Pentecost Alley - Anne Perry [162]
Ella Baker, with her hair tucked under her high coat collar, a coat borrowed from a client or a friend, and a pair of men’s trousers, perhaps over her own skirts tucked up, just under the coat’s length. She would let the skirts down as she left, undo her hair, and she would be invisible. It would explain why this had been more of a fight. She was taller and stronger than Nora, much heavier, but still far short of the strength of a man.
But why on earth would she have killed Ada McKinley? And what was her grudge against FitzJames? That could be anything … a slight, an abuse in the past, an injury not necessarily to her but to someone she loved … even a child lost. Perhaps she had been employed by the FitzJames family at some point in the past. That was an aspect he had never considered. He should have. A servant abused and dismissed would have a bitter grudge. When he heard about the butler who had got Ada pregnant, he should have looked at all the servants the FitzJameses had ever had. Young FitzJames would not be above seducing a handsome parlor maid and then having his father put her out in the street.
It all looked obvious now.
He left the house rapidly and walked down Old Montague Street and along Osborn Street, where he found Binns on his beat, then they went the few hundred yards’ distance to the tenement where he knew Ella Baker lived. He remembered Ewart had questioned her before about the possibility of her having seen the man leave, or of even having seen Finlay FitzJames. Ewart had said she was distressed then, obviously under pressure of extreme emotion. He had supposed it to be the natural terror and pity they all felt, knowing there had been another murder, and the shock and dismay that Costigan should have been hanged for a crime it now looked impossible for him to have committed.
And yet she had allowed him to be hanged. That was a double guilt that must have torn at her.
He banged on the door until the pimp who also lived on the premises came and opened it. He was unshaved and smelled of stale beer.
“What yer want?” he said abruptly, looking at Pitt and not seeing Binns behind him. “Yer too early. Geez, can’t yer wait till evenin’, yer bastard?”
Binns moved forward.
“Police,” Pitt said curtly. “I wish to talk to Ella Baker now!”
The man looked at Pitt’s face and Binns’s bulky form, and decided against arguing. He allowed them in, sullenly, and led them to Ella’s door. He knocked on it and shouted her name.
After a moment or two she came. She was a handsome woman, in a big, clean-cut way. Her features were strong, a trifle coarse. Her glory was her hair, thick, waving, the color of ripe wheat, dark, dull gold. It hung around her shoulders and down her back.
“Thank you,” Pitt dismissed the pimp, who went off sullenly, grumbling to himself. Pitt went inside the room and closed the door, leaving Binns standing outside it. The windows were small and two stories up.
“What you want this time?” Ella asked, staring at him, her brow furrowed.
“I can understand your killing Nora,” he said levelly. “She took Johnny Voss from you, and your one chance of marrying and getting out of here. But why Ada McKinley? What did she do to you?”
All the blood drained from her face. She swayed, and for several moments he thought she was going to faint. But he did not move to help her. He had been caught that way before, and had someone turn in an instant to a clawing, scratching fury. He remained where he was, his back to the door.
“I …” She gasped, choking on the sudden dryness of her own throat. “I … I never touched Ada, swear ter Gawd!”
“But you killed Nora….”
She said nothing.
“If I were to pull away that high neck of your dress, I’d see where she scratched you, trying to fight you off, fighting for her life….”
“No I never!” she denied, glaring at him. “You can’t prove I did!”
“Yes I can, Ella,” he said calmly. “You were seen.”
“ ’Oo seen me?” she