A Woman Unknown Page 0,88

it’s mine. Can I have the shoes back, and the frock? Later I would see Marcus, and he would ask me what she had said.

‘What’s the matter?’ Deirdre asked.

I thought of Edith Thompson, so confidently taking the stand to defend herself against a charge of murder. ‘Deirdre, you need a solicitor.’

This was entirely different to Edith’s Thompson’s case. No one had accused Deirdre of murder. Yet.

‘Won’t you sit in with me?’ she asked.

‘That wouldn’t be allowed.’

She groaned. ‘Don’t tell me I have to go through all that again, and telling it to some solicitor.’ She brightened suddenly. ‘It could be Mr Lansbury.’

‘Mr Lansbury would not be the best person. Think about it. What he was doing wasn’t exactly above board. He will be watching his own back.’

Either my words or my manner told her that trouble could be just around the corner.

‘Then get me a Jewish solicitor. My brother, he’ll find someone.’

‘I don’t see how, when he’s only been here a few days. And where do we find a Jewish solicitor on a Saturday. Why Jewish?’

‘Because a Catholic would despise me, a Protestant wouldn’t care. I think a Jew would have feelings.’

I racked my brains, but could think of no one.

‘The gym,’ Deirdre said. ‘Brasher, the boxing promoter. He knows everyone.’

I looked up at the station clock. It was approaching five. If we were not back in Kirkstall by six, Marcus would send out a search party. ‘Come on. We’ll take a taxi. Where is this gym?’

I was right in thinking that Detective Sergeant Wilson would come to Norman View to collect Deirdre.

I let him in. ‘Mrs Fitzpatrick is in the front room, with her solicitor.’

I did not relish the call I would make to Philippa, to tell her that I had found the woman unknown but that the investigation did not appear to have moved on even an inch.

‘How does she do it?’ Sykes joined me on a sofa in the hotel foyer. We were trying to blend in, so as not to upset the real guests by being living, breathing reminders that a murder enquiry was underway. It was easy for me, but Sykes cannot help looking like a plain-clothes policeman, in my eyes anyway.

‘How does who do what?’

‘Deirdre Fitzpatrick. Not only does she arrive with the fiercest solicitor this side of the Pennines, who presents her as more sinned against than sinning, but in her wake come two priests and six nuns, four in black, two in brown, speaking up for her, offering to act as chaperone, insisting she is in a state of near collapse after her multiple ordeals. Where’s the bishop? Why isn’t the pope here? Apparently she’s planning to take the veil. How soon before she’s canonized?’

‘Calm down, Mr Sykes. People are looking.’ It was time to go outside before we were thrown out. ‘Come on, I need some air. And I’d quite like a ride on the back of your motorbike.’ I had come into town with Sergeant Wilson, while Deirdre travelled with her solicitor.

‘Where do you want to go?’ Sykes asked.

‘I’ll tell you when you calm down.’

Avoiding the main entrance, we walked through the corridor towards the hotel’s side door, where there is entry to the tobacconist’s and the hat shop, both of which were still open. Sykes muttered something about buying a small cigar and went into the tobacconist’s. I decided to tell Madame Estelle how pleased I was with the hat she sold me on race day.

She was packing up for the night, but delighted to see me. ‘You were in such a dash when you came in for the hat last week, we didn’t have time for a word. Are you pleased with the hat?’

‘It’s perfect, and brought me luck, too. I backed the winner.’

Madam Estelle clapped her hands. ‘There you are, just goes to show! Some people say luck at the racecourse depends on the size of your brim. Obviously that’s not true. It’s the quality of the hat, whether brimmed or a cloche.’ She drew back the curtain that concealed the shelves where she kept her stock, brought out a small hat box and removed the lid with a flourish. She lifted out a cream and brown silk turban hat, decorated with a coffee-coloured flower.

‘It’s lovely.’

She handed it to me. ‘Try it on. I designed it myself. The moment it was finished, I thought, Mrs Shackleton to a t.’ Madam Estelle moved to the back of the shop and bolted the doors that led into the hotel.