03 - Murder in Mink (21 page)

Sam shook his head.

“Hardly see ‘em, they only come after dark. Except for
last night, of course.” Sam smiled, pleased with himself, “You were after her
just now for that one, weren’t you?”

“We thought she had conducted a…” Clara hedged for words,
“A procedure last night.”

“That was Ethel Thwaite. I knew her voice, she has a bit
of an impediment. She used to clean for me. She isn’t married.” Sam added the
last as if it wasn’t fairly obvious.

Clara’s mind was working fast. If they could find Ethel…
If she would talk to them…

“Where does she live?”

“24 Alms Street. With her widowed mother.”

“Thank you.” Clara was on her feet again, “Thank you so
much Sam.”

The sailor grinned as she hurried out.

“Glad to be of service!” He called.

Clara gave him a wave before she was across the street
and hurrying in the direction of the police station.

Inspector Jennings took the information calmly enough and
agreed that it would be best if Clara called on the girl first. The police
arriving on her doorstep would likely frighten her. She would more than likely
be scared enough already as it was.

Twenty-five minutes after learning about Ethel from Sam,
Clara was on the doorstep of her house and already feeling it was fortuitous
she had come. For the door was open and there were sounds of distress inside.
Clara didn’t knock; she walked in and took a look at the scene in the front
room with the practical eyes of a nurse. It had been a rough four years in that
hospital, but it had taught Clara that getting upset over injury or illness was
not helpful. You had to be pragmatic, keep a cool head and avoid getting emotional.
Even so, Clara felt her heart sink as she saw poor Ethel helplessly lying on a
sofa, blood on the floor and on rags her mother was trying desperately to press
to her bleeding daughter. There was too much blood, far too much.

“How long has she been bleeding?” Clara asked sharply.

Mrs Thwaite looked up astonished that someone had entered
her house unannounced. She had been the one making the weeping sounds. Her
daughter was too weak to do so.

“Since this morning. It won’t stop, I’ve never known a
monthly to be this bad.”

Clara did not correct Mrs Thwaite, there would be time
for that later.

“I’ll call an ambulance.”

Clara hurried outside suddenly wondering how she was
going to find help. There was unlikely to be a phone in the street from which
she could call the hospital.

“Think Clara!” She glanced up and down the road, there
had to be somewhere.

She picked a direction and began to walk, there was no
knowing if it was the right way to go, but she moved purposefully deciding that
force of will alone would have to make it the right way. Just at the end of the
road she spotted a sign for a small grocery. She dashed forward and burst
through the shop door.

“Do you have a phone?” She asked the man behind the
counter.

He looked at her blankly, then shook his head.

With a groan Clara raced out of the shop and headed back
the way she had come without even thinking to check the road. There was a loud
squeal of brakes and Clara unconsciously braced herself, expecting to be
struck. There was just a moment to consider how stupid she had been and then a
tyre bumped her and she fell down.

“Clara!”

Clara was unhurt. The car had been almost stationary when
it had nudged her over. She had run her stockings though and her hat was
covered in muck. She glanced up at the driver of the vehicle and saw Timmy.

“Are you all right?” Timmy asked, reaching down to her.

“No time for that! We have to hurry!” Clara was on her
feet and pushing Timmy back into the car, “There is a girl in trouble and we
have to get her to the hospital!”

Timmy, baffled but used to taking orders, hopped into the
driver’s seat and set the car off down Alms Street at Clara’s direction.

“I’m supposed to be picking up Mrs Campbell from the Town
Hall.” Timmy mumbled, not exactly trying to make difficulties but aware he was
putting his position into peril.

“I’ll explain to her.” Clara reassured him, “Do you have
blankets in this car?”

“Some they use for picnics in the boot.”

“Right, while I go in spread them over the back seat. You
are going to need them.”

Timmy gave her a worried look.

“This is important Timmy, just hold your nerve and you
will be fine.”

24 Alms Street loomed on their right. Clara jumped out
before the car was fully stopped and hurried inside.

“I have a car outside that can take Ethel to the hospital.”

Mrs Thwaite was bamboozled by this stranger coming into
her house, but she was too worried over her daughter to think about it deeply.
She had to get her to a hospital and if this woman she didn’t know was prepared
to help, so be it, she would accept it if it would save Ethel.

Between them they helped Ethel to her feet. She was a
dead weight in their arms, sagging forward. Clara had an awful feeling she was
too late, Ethel didn’t even seem to have the strength to drag her feet as they
edged towards the door and there was more blood trickling down her legs. Mrs
Thwaite was gulping down on her sobs, but her face spoke of her utter distress
over what was happening. Clara was cursing inwardly, using all the words her
parents had told her a lady never knew, let alone spoke, to silently describe
her feelings for Mrs Patterson. More than ever she was determined to nab the
woman.

What if this had been Susan? So easily it could have
been, and what of the others over the years that had stepped into that viper’s
lair hoping for help? Had they lived or had they suffered the fate of Ethel?

Timmy was gobsmacked when he saw the pale, bleeding woman
being brought from the house. Not least because he suddenly recognised her.

“Ethel?”

The girl’s head seemed to jerk up, as though she had
heard, but then the lifelessness returned.

“Help me get her into the car Timmy.” Clara instructed,
seeing the young man’s confusion.

“She waitresses at Lyons tearooms.” Timmy took Ethel
around the waist and picked her up as though she was nothing but a rag doll,
“What’s happened to her.”

“She needs a hospital.” Clara said firmly, not about to
discuss Ethel’s condition on the street.

She bundled Mrs Thwaite into the back seat with her
daughter then joined Timmy in the front with orders to drive as fast as he
dared. She knew she would regret it, but right now her discomfit had to be upstaged
by Ethel’s dire needs. Timmy pressed down on the accelerator. Clara clenched
her eyes tight shut. And they were on their way.

Later on Clara could hardly describe what had happened in
that first hour at the hospital. All she remembered was the controlled panic in
people’s voices, the rush of nurses, the summons of a doctor and then Ethel
being swept away into a room that smelt of disinfectant and bleach. Mrs Thwaite’s
heavy sobs rang in her ears a long time after the woman had actually stopped
crying. Clara comforted her as best she could, what could be said other than it
would be all right and that her daughter was in the best possible care?

She sent Timmy away. Told him to dump the blankets now
covered in blood and to carry on with his original task, but once he was done,
she said, she would be most grateful if he could go to the police station and
explain to Inspector Jennings where she was.

So Clara sat alone with Mrs Thwaite, and lost the next
few hours, burying them behind a fug of forgetfulness as there was no other way
to deal with them. Someone made them a cup of tea, she couldn’t remember who,
and Mrs Thwaite finally cried herself out and sat trembling beside Clara asking
herself over and over what had gone wrong, why was this happening to her?
Sometime in the afternoon, when Clara was feeling light-headed from missing
lunch and Mrs Thwaite had fallen into an uneasy doze, Inspector Jennings
appeared.

Clara left Mrs Thwaite silently and walked away to one
side with him.

“What exactly is happening?” Jennings asked in a low
voice.

“I think Ethel Thwaite is bleeding to death. In fact, she
may have already done so. We haven’t seen a doctor in ages.”

Jennings face fell.

“Damn!” He hissed.

“I don’t know what to say to Mrs Thwaite.” Clara felt a
wave of emotion suddenly overwhelm her, she had been keeping it tight inside
from the moment the chaos had begun, but now it started to escape her. She
realised she was very close to crying, “I keep thinking this could have been
Susan.”

“Don’t Clara, you can drive yourself mad that way.”

“How many other girls have suffered like this, inspector?
Mrs Patterson is a fiend.”

Jennings nodded solemnly.

“I know, and I will stop her.”

“When?”

Jennings had no answer. Clara wanted to scream at him,
not because she was angry with him, rather she was angry at the world in
general. Angry that it could be so hard to nail a woman like Mrs Patterson.
Angry that nobody seemed able to do anything. It made her throat tight, until
she could taste bile. She was so furious it seemed impossible that it didn’t
show outwardly, it felt like a fire raging within, so much so she expected to
exert warmth, to burn with it. Instead she appeared calm and cool.

“Is that the doctor?” Jennings looked up.

A man in a white coat was heading for Mrs Thwaite. Clara
and Jennings hurried over. The doctor gave them a curious look.

“Are you to do with Ethel Thwaite?” He asked.

“Yes,” Clara said without hesitation, “Is she…”

“We’ve managed to stop the bleeding and we think she will
pull through.” The doctor said.

Clara was so relieved she felt as though her whole body
sagged with the lifting of tension by about two inches. Mrs Thwaite was rousing
from her sleep.

“Ethel?”

“Would you like to come this way and see your daughter?”
The doctor asked kindly.

Mrs Thwaite just about managed a small nod and forced
herself to her feet. Following the doctor urgently she disappeared into a side
room, leaving Jennings and Clara behind. Surely Ethel would talk to them now,
Clara kept thinking, surely she would agree to be a witness? Clara didn’t dare contemplate
the alternative.

After Mrs Thwaite had gone in to see her daughter, the
doctor came back out and gave them that same curious look.

“Inspector Jennings,” The inspector held out his hand to
shake, “This is an associate from Brighton, Clara Fitzgerald.”

The doctor remained mute.

“We are investigating a woman who deals in illegal
abortions. We believe Ethel Thwaite was her latest victim.”

“I would agree with that.” The doctor said.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Jennings
pushed.

“She was lucky, very lucky.” The doctor replied with a
shrug and then he turned and left them standing in the corridor.

It was half an hour later that Mrs Thwaite poked her head
out the door and asked if Clara would enter the room. Clara agreed and came
face-to-face with a much healthier looking Ethel. She was still peaky, and her
skin pale, but her eyes were bright and alert. Far from the dragging, half-dead
creature they had brought to the hospital.

“I think I have you to thank for saving my life.” Ethel
beamed at Clara, “How did you come to be there at the right moment?”

Clara took a deep breath and then revealed herself.

“I had just come from Mrs Patterson’s house.”

Ethel’s smile didn’t fade, but it did stiffen.

“Mother, why don’t you go see about getting a bite to eat
while I chat with this lady?” She said.

Mrs Thwaite wavered, not wanting to leave her daughter.

“I’ll be all right.” Ethel assured her, finally waving
her off with a promise from Clara that she would not leave until Mrs Thwaite
returned.

Ethel’s mother left the room feeling more confused than
ever.

“You understand, mother doesn’t know?” Ethel said, her
bright eyes digging into Clara.

“Yes.”

“So who are you?”

“Clara Fitzgerald. I happened to stumble onto your
situation because my cousin came very close to the same procedure. I have every
intention of stopping Mrs Patterson from carrying out her filthy trade.”

“Who are you to say what a person should or shouldn’t
do?” Ethel snapped, taking Clara by surprise.

“I presume you are aware she came very near to costing
you your life?”

Ethel gave a shrug of her shoulders.

“These things happen. I took a chance, wouldn’t be the
first I’ve taken.”

Clara felt it best to change tack.

“I am not fool enough to think that I can stop girls seeking
out someone to rid them of their troubles.” Clara said calmly, “But I can’t
allow a woman who has come close to, in fact probably has, killed some of those
girls who have sought her help to carry on practicing her trade. I am not one
of those who believe having a baby out of wedlock is a fate worse than death.”

“You are a rarity then.”

“Would your mother prefer you dead, than having a baby?”
Clara asked pointedly.

Ethel had the dignity to look away.

“I am not about to judge women who get themselves into
trouble. But I will judge a woman who ‘helps’ them with a knitting needle for a
handful of money. Mrs Patterson is no saint coming to the aid of girls’ in
distress, if she was she would take a bit more care. But she doesn’t give a
damn if any girl she tends lives or dies. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

Ethel tightened a wad of the hospital blanket that covered
her into a ball in her fist, but she said nothing.

“It angers me.” Clara continued, “There will always be
women who think they need the help of people like Mrs Patterson. Women who are
desperate. Perhaps there are even some of her sort out there who genuinely want
to help the girls who come to them. Mrs Patterson is not like that, she is a
common criminal. Who, after she was done with you, threw your baby out with the
rubbish for the rats to eat.”

It was harsh, Clara didn’t like to say it. But Ethel
should have no illusions about the woman she was protecting with her silence.

“Threw it out?” Ethel seemed pained by the thought.

“Did she show you any kindness at all to justify
defending her?”

Ethel fudged with the blankets.

“She said the last girl she had in ran away, and she
hoped I wouldn’t be so silly.” Ethel grimaced, “I wasn’t sure I could stick it,
but I had to save up a month’s wages for the cost.”

“How long were you in with her?”

“Ten minutes, can’t have been many more. She said it was
better done quick. I lay on her parlour table, like a corpse laid out. I’ve
never been so humiliated…” The tears came, at last breaking through the cold
exterior Ethel had been maintaining desperately.