The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [53]
Bailey blushed. “Well sir, ’is wife said as ’e didn’t come ’ome last night. She didn’t realize it until this morning, like, but when she ’eard about the body bein’ found, she got upset an’ sent for us. The local constable knew it were ’er ’usband, o’ course, because ’er name’s Arledge—Dulcie Arledge, poor creature.”
Farnsworth was sitting upright in his chair.
“What else? What sort of woman is she, this Mrs. Arledge? Where do they live? What did he do, apart from music? He must have had money.”
“Don’t know about that, sir, but seems like ’e were quite famous in ’is own fashion. ’E did ’is conducting very well, so they say. As for Mrs. Arledge, she seems like a real lady, very soft-spoken, nice sort o’ manners, dressed very quiet like, although not in black yet, o’ course.”
“How old, in your estimate?” Farnsworth pressed.
Bailey looked awkward. “ ’Ard to tell a lady’s age, sir….”
“Oh for Heaven’s sake, man! Make a guess. You must have some idea. You’re not saying it in front of her!” Farnsworth said impatiently. “Forty? Fifty? What?”
“More like forty, sir, I should say, but still very pretty. One o’ them sort o’ faces that you can live with, if you know what I mean?”
“I have no idea what you mean!” Farnsworth snapped. Bailey blushed unhappily.
“Do you mean pleasing without being consciously beautiful?” Pitt asked him. “The sort that becomes more agreeable as you know the person better, rather than less so?”
Bailey’s face lit. “Yes sir, that’s exactly what I mean. The sort you wouldn’t get tired of, ’cos that’s all there is to ’er—sir.”
“A most attractive woman,” Farnsworth said sourly. “But that doesn’t mean her husband didn’t go out after whores all the same.”
Bailey said nothing, but his unhappiness registered in his features.
Farnsworth ignored him. “Find out, Pitt!” he said grimly. “Find out this Arledge’s habits, anything you can about him, where he went for his pleasures, how often he took walks in the park in the evenings, any”—he hesitated—“any peculiar tastes he might have had. Perhaps he abused women, went in for sadism or perverted behavior—something that might bring a pimp down on him.”
Pitt pulled a face.
“Don’t be squeamish,” Farnsworth said abruptly. “Good God, man, you know the situation! There’s close to hysteria over this second case. Banner headlines everywhere, and articles about police incompetence. There’s a by-election coming up, and already the candidates are out to make capital of it.”
“I’m not reluctant to do it,” Pitt explained as soon as Farnsworth finished speaking. “I simply don’t think peculiar tastes, or even sadism, would make a pimp behead a client. They don’t care, as long as they get paid and the girl isn’t marked too much to be useful anymore.”
Farnsworth looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Really? Well I suppose that is your field of expertise. It isn’t something I know a great deal about.” His lip curled in distaste. “All the same, I think you’ll find that’s the answer. Pursue it, Pitt. Do all the other things, of course. See where he was killed. Get your other witnesses, if there are any, but find those women!”
“Yes sir,” Pitt agreed.
“Do it.” Farnsworth stood up, still ignoring Bailey, and went to the door. He readjusted his jacket to make it hang more symmetrically, and went out without saying anything further.
“Shall I ask Mr. Tellman to do that, sir?” Bailey said helpfully now that Farnsworth was gone. He pulled a paper bag out of his pocket and put a peppermint in his mouth.
“No.” Pitt had made up his mind. “No thank you. I’ll do that myself. You can go on looking for where he was killed. There’ll be a lot of blood somewhere. Oh—and how he was moved, if you can.”
Bailey looked startled. “ ’Ow he was moved? Well, I suppose someone carried ’im. Bit messy, like, but if you’ve just ’acked a fellow’s ’ead orf, I suppose a bit o’ blood on yer clothes in’t goin’ ter upset yer too much.”
“Bit risky, carrying a headless corpse through the park,” Pitt said thoughtfully. “And why move him?