Murder at the Ashmolean, page 28
‘It was an honourable time,’ countered Whichford.
‘For the few,’ said Daniel. He stood up. ‘But, I repeat, My Lord, you have nothing to fear from me. This is the end of it. I do believe you are an honourable man. You now have to consider if you are also above the law.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Daniel and Abigail’s train journey back to London from Oxford was in the comfort and privacy of a first class compartment, courtesy of Gladstone Marriott and the Ashmolean, which meant they were able to discuss the outcomes of their Oxford experiences.
‘Basically, it’s unsatisfactory,’ said Abigail. ‘Baron Whichford murders Gavin Everett and gets away with it. Lord Chessington kills a Special Branch detective and also gets away with it. No culprits have been brought to justice.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Daniel. ‘Piers Stevens will stand trial for the death of Eve Lachelle. And we did discover her body. Also, you exposed the fraud that had been perpetrated against the Ashmolean and made sure that most of the stolen artefacts were returned.’
‘But again, one of the criminals involved in that, Josiah Goddard, gets away scot free,’ protested Abigail.
‘Because the Ashmolean didn’t want the adverse publicity that would go with a prosecution,’ Daniel pointed out.
‘It’s not justice!’ insisted Abigail, frustrated.
‘It’s justice of a sort,’ countered Daniel. ‘It’s justice for Eve Lachelle. The Ashmolean has got most of its stolen artefacts back.’
‘Alright, I believe that Lord Chessington didn’t deliberately mean to kill Inspector Grafton, but Baron Whichford did mean to shoot Gavin Everett,’ Abigail persisted. ‘He went to see him armed with a pistol. That’s murder! And he’s got away with it!’
‘I’m afraid it’s called living in the real world,’ sighed Daniel. ‘The British Establishment is very good at protecting its own: senior aristocracy, royalty, cabinet ministers, prime ministers. During our investigation of the Jack the Ripper murders, my guv’nor, Fred Abberline, and I came across evidence that pointed at the possible involvement of Prince Albert Victor, the Duke of Clarence.’
‘The Queen’s grandson?’ said Abigail, stunned.
‘The very same.’ Daniel nodded. ‘In collusion with Sir William Gull, the Queen’s physician, who was also the physician of Prince Albert Victor. Although the evidence was circumstantial, there was enough to suggest that we needed to talk to them. You and Inspector Pitt said that I can get people to talk. If that’s true, I learnt everything on how to do that from Abberline. He was the master.
‘Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes and Mary Jane Kelly, all slaughtered during August and September 1888. The newspapers and the public were on our backs to find the killer, and both Abberline and I thought we had a line. Prince Albert Victor and Sir William Gull, in – we were sure – collusion with others.
‘It soon became obvious that the idea of talking with Prince Albert Victor was out of the question – we were told so in no uncertain terms. But that still left Sir William Gull. If, as we suspected, Sir William and Prince Albert Victor were working together, and with others, murdering these women, we felt we might have a chance at cracking Sir William and getting a confession from him, in the same way that I got a confession from Baron Whichford about him killing Everett.
‘With someone as high up as Sir William, we had to get authority from our superiors to talk to him. He was the Queen’s physician, after all. So, just as you and I did when we talked to Superintendent Clare, we presented the evidence we had so far. We were refused permission to take that line of enquiry any further. We were told the evidence we had was only circumstantial with nothing to back it up. We were also told that national security was at risk. The idea that there might even be a suggestion that the Queen’s grandson and her physician could be implicated in what was going on was out of the question. So that line of enquiry was dropped.’
‘And Jack the Ripper was never caught,’ said Abigail.
‘No. But there were no more killings. Gull died in 1890. Prince Albert Victor was implicated in the Cleveland Street homosexual brothel scandal in 1889 that Fred and I also investigated, but – as I’ve mentioned before – none of the top aristocrats involved were ever charged, just the telegraph boys themselves. Like I say, the Establishment looks after its own.’
‘Was that why you left the police force?’ asked Abigail.
‘It may have had something to do with it,’ admitted Daniel. ‘I’d thought being a private enquiry agent I’d be free of that sort of unfair pressure. But it seems from this case, things don’t change.’
Then he smiled and opened the copy of the Oxford Messenger they’d bought at the railway station. ‘But some things do change for the better. One good thing has come out of it all. Your friend Esther finally has her own byline on a proper story.’
The story was right across the front page.
BODY OF MISSING WOMAN FOUND. MAN CHARGED WITH HER DEATH. By Esther Maris.
The body of a young woman, Eve Lachelle, who went missing from her Oxford home three months ago has been found. There is debate on whether her death was deliberate, or an accident, but a local young man, Piers Stevens, has been charged with causing her death.
Then followed details of Eve Lachelle, her time working as a waitress at the Quill Club, which Esther described as ‘a secretive club for gentlemen in the heart of Oxford’, and a picture of Piers Stevens looking distressed.
‘She’s on the front page,’ said Daniel. ‘And that’s thanks to you and the stern telling-off you gave her editor. So we have achieved something.’ Curious, he asked, ‘How did you get Lord Chessington to return all those precious ancient artefacts to the Ashmolean?’
‘I suggested to him he set up his own archaeological trip to Egypt and he could find others to replace them.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He thought it a good idea. In fact, he asked me to go with him.’
‘Oh? And what did you say?’
‘I said no.’ She turned to Daniel and nestled her head into his chest. ‘I think I’m happy with the ancient relic I already have.’
Daniel chuckled and kissed the top of her head.
‘Abigail Fenton,’ he murmured. ‘I love you.’
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JIM ELDRIDGE was born in central London towards the end of World War II, and was blown up (but survived) during attacks by V2 rockets on the Euston/Kings Cross area of London where he lived. He left school at sixteen and did a variety of jobs, before training as a teacher. In 1971 he sold his first sitcom (starring Arthur Lowe) to the BBC and had his first book commissioned. Since then he has had over 100 books published, with sales of over three million copies. He lives in Kent with his wife.
jimeldridge.com
By Jim Eldridge
Murder at the Fitzwilliam
Murder at the British Museum
Murder at the Ashmolean
COPYRIGHT
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2019.
This ebook edition published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2019.
Copyright © 2019 by JIM ELDRIDGE
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–2302–7
Jim Eldridge, Murder at the Ashmolean
