A Monstrous Regiment of Women - Laurie R. King [83]
“At least stay until Tomlinson comes, let him hear what you have to say.”
“I’ve given you everything of any importance, Inspector Lestrade. It’s more important for me to be at that gathering of the Circle than waiting for your colleague.”
“He may decide to arrest Margery Childe straightaway.”
“If he does, then he’s a damned fool and ought to be back pounding a beat, and you can tell him that Sherlock Holmes himself said that. Arrange a meeting tomorrow if you like. Or midnight tonight, for that matter.” I gave him the number of the telephone that, along with the flat’s other furnishings, was temporarily for my use.
He waited until I was at the door before he asked me the vital question.
“Do you think she killed those women?”
I was taken unawares by a sudden jolt of revulsion for my persona, my shoes, and the decision that had brought me here.
“Frankly, no,” I said tiredly. “But I think you need to take a very close look at her. She is the common link between three dead women and a fourth who got lucky. She knows everything about her inner circle of followers. She knows that Veronica Beaconsfield and the others willed money to benefit the Temple. She has a friend on the staff of the Clarion, and this person would have known about the mutilations of the other victims. Margery has private rooms in the Temple complex, is often in retreat and unavailable, with a sharp-toothed maidservant to guard her doors, and very probably has some sort of private entrance. She is also embarking on a very expensive bid for public attention which will lead, she hopes, to a certain degree of political power. Clinics, literacy programs, and shelters can hardly be supported by the contributions taken in at the services. If you want me to tell you what your job is, I might suggest that a closer look at the church’s finances would be in order, and a close scrutiny of the automobile and drowning accident reports. Inspector Tomlinson will undoubtedly have his own ideas. Now, I am away. Good evening, Inspector Lestrade. Thank you for the drinks.”
I passed Inspector Tomlinson at the door, a tall and elegantly dressed figure perhaps a bit too aware of his own masculinity; not a characteristic, I reflected, that would help him on this particular case.
* * *
FIFTEEN
Saturday, 15 January-
Friday, 21 January
Woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect herself.
—Susan B. Anthony (1820-1906)
« ^ »
Beginning that Saturday night, I immersed myself in the Temple. Walking in just as the service was ending, I joined the Inner Circle as it made its way to the common room, oblivious of the raised eyebrows and shared glances, and announced to Margery my willingness to assume whatever of Veronica’s duties I might be capable of, until she returned.
That was my entrée into Temple business. I could not, of course, fill Veronica’s shoes administratively, but teach I could, and teach I did. I also ran errands, typed letters, answered telephones, fetched supplies, poked my nose into any available nooks and crannies, and in general offered myself up as anyone’s dogsbody. With no particular discussion on the matter, from that first night I contrived to assume the position of fledgling member of the Circle, and in that rôle I contributed (in a deprecating manner) one or two ideas to a proposed political demonstration, helped print the tracts, took them around to the other Circle members, and on Tuesday stood on the pavement outside Parliament to distribute them. We were not arrested, fortunately; answering the police questions might have proven awkward, but the mere participation in the act bound me to their hearts more tightly than any amount of hard labour.
As the days passed, with the bustle of the Temple affairs and the continued friendly, open enthusiasm of Margery, I began to wonder if I had not imagined the strange