The Lexington House Murder
~ Chapter Ten
Ichabod
Crane was furious. As he and Mailer bumped along in the carriage,
Mailer was yet expressing his shock that the Wellington-Trumbells
hadn’t mentioned a daughter, when Ichabod interrupted him.
“This
is what we shall do, once we arrive at Lexington House. I want to be
the one who speaks to them. I may be overly harsh in tone, but stay
silent. I want them to think you sanction by methods, without
actually committing yourself; in the event complaints are brought.
“You shame me, Crane - to think I wouldn’t stand up for
you. Regardless of the circumstances. Do you know the reason you were
actually called in on this case?”
Ichabod looked up slowly
at Mailer. “I thought it was because of Sleepy Hollow.”
Mailer
shook his head.“An apparent witness, not yet tested, has reported
that a murder was committed by the spectrum of a man now dead several
years. While I look forward to you interrogating that formidable
housekeeper on her visions of the dead, I cannot sit here and let you
think you were consulted simply because someone mentioned a ghost.”
“Then why am I here, Mailer?”
“Because I
pleaded with Dobbins to assign you to the case. You may think you are
known only for Sleepy Hollow, but many men in the force believe that
you alone are responsible for the modern methods of police detection
now used. For standing up for the belief that violence against
another’s person or property is not just a fate of life to be
blamed on the most convenient lower class person. But rather it is
crime, subject to examination, deduction, reasoning and, if
appropriate, trial as prescribed by the law. You have the admiration
of many of the men who, who feel you have elevated their position as
true policemen.”
“Here come I; in a new position as
Magistrate in a city of this size and importance. My first case, a
murder within the upper classes. I went to Dobbins immediately, and
asked him outright, who was the finest detective available any where
in the city.”
Mailer leaned towards Ichabod. “Dobbins did
not hesitate even a moment. He said to me
‘Crane is your man.
Touchy fellow, but the best reasoning crime solver I have ever met.’
The ghost story was a extra bit I thought might entice you or
at least give you a credible reason as to why you were called in from
another district. Sounds damn stupid, now. Crane, I am sorry for
being misleading. Are you against me now? Not that I would blame
you.”
“No ill feelings, Mailer. Actually I am rather
flattered. And this has certainly turned out to be an intriguing
case. Perhaps my dream of being a deputy chief constable is not
beyond my grasp. But it will take both our wits to figure out what
has happened here. If for no other reason than to provide some
justice to Miss Janelle.”
Mailer smiled and looked out the
carriage window. “Alright then, we are coming up upon the house.
Let us go in and make our acquaintance with the story of Megan
Wellington-Trumbell and with the formidable personage of Mrs. Eloise
Parker, housekeeper.”
The front door of Lexington House was
opened for the detectives by an extremely attractive middle-aged
woman. She stared at the both for only a moment, before beckoning
them in.
“I am Mrs. Parker, the head housekeeper here.”
Mailer and Crane each thinking that the woman was the very opposite
of what they had expected. She spoke to them in a smooth low tone.
“Constable Crane and Magistrate Mailer, it is so regretful that you
have made this trip. You see, neither of my employers is available
right now. And I myself am in the middle of settling the house
accounts. Perhaps we can decide on a more convenient time for you to
return.” She was so confident in her excuses that she began to move
back toward the front door.
“I too, am regretful, Mrs.
Parker.” Ichabod said in a booming voice. The sound of it had
startled Mailer, but the woman never even flinched. Ichabod began to
circle her, slowly. He continued in a loud, strong voice:
“Regretful, that the staff and the owners of Lexington
House apparently fail to understand that a homicide; that is the
cold-blooded murder of another human being, has been committed at
their home and in their midst. Too much time has been wasted,
allowing for “distressed feelings,” which I personally am not all
that convinced are sincere.”
“You, Mrs. Parker, will
alert your employers that they are to be ready to present themselves
in approximately one hour for questioning. Then you will return to
the small parlor, where Magistrate Mailer and myself, will interview
you regarding the murder. The remainder of the staff is to take the
police cabs waiting outside and proceed to the station where they
will be questioned, individually, by the station officers. Any
attempt to stop me and I will recommend that you all be removed to
the closest police station for questioning there.”.
Crane
wheeled and put his face very close to the housekeeper’s. He
lowered his voice considerably and spoke each word with deliberation.
“Heed me well, unless there is immediate cooperation shown,
this will end badly for you all.”
A young housemaid on the
upper landing let out a high pitched squeal. But she was quickly
stifled, by a look from Eloise Piece. She then turned her eyes to
Ichabod with a penetrating look of hatred. Not shock or anger at
being inconvenienced, but pure hate. Mrs. Van Ernst had been correct.
Mrs. Parker was certainly capable of producing the most menacing of
expressions. When the woman passed her eyes over his face, Mailer
felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up.
Crane walked
confidently into the small parlor and stood looking out the window.
In the back gardens a very young girl played with her nanny. She
would have been a very pretty little girl, but for the flat, empty
expression on her small face. Something about the forlorn look of
that little girl made Crane even more incensed.
Behind him,
Mrs. Parker now presented herself. “I have given your message to
Mr. Wellington-Trumbell. He, being the civic-minded and caring person
that he is, has graciously agreed to see you in one hour. But begs
your understanding that Mrs. Wellington-Trumbell cannot be disturbed.
She yet suffers from shock.”
Ichabod indicated the
housekeeper was to sit down. She did.
Ichabod moved so that
he was standing directly above her, forcing her to look up. “A
certain Miss Janelle Washington does and will, for a very long time,
suffers also from a devastating shock. Much more devastating than I
believe could possibly be true of Mrs. Wellington-Trumbell. I
therefore shall expect to question her by herself, either before or
after her husband. One of the female staff may be present, if that
would make Mrs. Wellington-Trumbell more comfortable.” Again the
woman showed no change in the her facial expression, but her eyes
darkened and glared at Ichabod.
“Now, Magistrate if you
will kindly take notes, I shall begin.”
“Ready,
Constable” Mailer emphasizing the title with his voice.”
Mrs.
Parker, I understand you came upon the murderer in the large sitting
room at approximately 4:30 am. Why were you downstairs at that
moment?”
“I am a light sleeper. I was awakened by a noise
coming from the lower floor sitting room. I went down to investigate
it.”
“What exactly did you see in the sitting room?”
“I saw someone who appeared to be Thomas
Wellington-Trumbell, the master’s younger brother, bending over
Margaret with the knife.”
“But Thomas is dead, so you are
saying that you saw his ghost, bending over the girl.”
“Upon,
reflection, I realize that in the dark the attacker I saw must have
been someone who resembled Thomas from the back. I believe when I
first spoke to the police I was in deep shock myself.”
“So.
At this point we are to understand then that you no longer claim to
have seen a ghost?”
“Yes. Just someone who appeared to be
Thomas from the back.”
“Who is Megan?” Crane evidenced
no change of expression or tone which would have underscored the
abrupt change in topic.
The question, though, had brought a
wariness into the housekeeper’s face.
“She is the
daughter of my employer.” She managed to regain her even tone.
“And how old is she?
“Five years old”
“I
am soon to become a father, myself, Mrs. Parker, for the very first
time. I have little experience with children. This child looks rather
unhappy to me.”
“She has her moods, like any child.”
“Was Margaret a satisfactory employee? By that I mean, did
she perform her work well, good attitude, met her hours, no staying
out late, that sort of thing.”
“I often had to explain
things to her more clearly than with the others. But in general, I
had no complaints about her work.”
“Did you like her?”
“I do not engage in emotional ties with the other staff.
Margaret was a pleasant and respectful girl. I can only say I had no
dislike of her.”
Crane had been pacing the floor, now he
took a seat across from Mrs. Parker. “You hear a noise in the
middle of the night, and go down to investigate. Without rousing one
of the other staff to alert them of whatever it was you were
“investigating.”
“No.”
“And your first
reaction upon seeing this ghostly tableau of a man attacking some in
the sitting room was not to cry out for help. Not to arouse the
house, nor even light the lamps. But to quietly slip back up to the
servants quarters to awaken only the driver to go and fetch the
police.”
“First, I wished to avoid startling the man, I
went directly to the driver before waking the master, because I
thought best to lose no time fetching the police; when it would
hardly matter if the master knew at that moment or five minutes
later. And there was no reason to light the lamps, they were already
lit.
“But just now you said it was dark in the room. So
dark you were almost mislead into thinking a ghost of a man you know
was standing before you. You are now claiming that you were in such
shock at the sight you mistook a man for a ghost in a well lit room.
And yet, in this severe state of shock you respond with a very cool,
reasoned and well thought out course of action.”
Mrs.
Parker did not answer.
“You do not appear to me to be a
timid woman, Mrs. Parker. Did it not cross your mind, to try and help
the girl, she may well have still been alive; why did you not to come
to her aid; try to wound the man or stun him. You could have grabbed
anything - something, a small chair, a vase…any of the five sturdy
walking sticks which sit not two feet from the entrance of the
sitting room.”
“It was obvious to me that the girl was
already dead.”
Crane allowed himself a smile, “How so”
“Well, I could see her clearly stretched out and that the
wound had stopped gushing blood. Of course I thought her dead. And
just perhaps, Constable, I am human enough to instinctively want to
protect myself from being attacked.”
“Far more than
human, you must be extraordinary to be able to see right through a
man. As you yourself just so recently emphasized, the man’s back
was to you, bending over the body.”
Crane stood up and
crossed his arms. “Unless you want us to believe you paused to walk
around the scene before leaving to wake the driver, I do not believe
you knew Margaret was dead only from seeing her at ten feet away in a
dark or lit room. And I do not understand how you could describe a
wound as gushing, when she could have just as easily bled out slowly.
Unless of course you witnessed the wound being inflicted.”
He
paused. “Or perhaps you too were a witness, James
Wellington-Trumbell!” Crane dramatically threw open the parlor door
the whole way, revealing the somewhat hunched-over figure of the
master of the house.
James quickly regained his dignity and
walked firmly up to Ichabod. “How dare you use your bullying
tactics on my housekeeper? I will not allow this to go on for one
more moment. I will contact my solicitor at once. Surely, this
‘interview’ is not proper police procedure!”
Suddenly
James whirled around at the sound behind him. His wife, Helen, stood
there cowering. Her husband could not keep the contempt out of his
voice. “I thought I made it quite clear to you, that you were to
remain in your bed chamber.”
“I was alarmed that Megan
might hear your voices. I came down to see after her. You know James,
it might be better that I take her away until this matter is over.”
Ichabod was surprised indeed. He had not thought the woman
capable of completing a phrase, never mind actually daring to advise
her husband in any manner.
Helen Wellington-Trumbell’s body
had shaken during the whole of her speech and from where Mailer sat
he thought he could see what appeared to be a fresh ugly bruise
beginning on the side of her head.
Helen backed up to exit
the room. James caught her by the arm rather roughly, but immediately
began to speak assuringly to his wife.
“No need to worry
about Megan, my dear. Mrs. Parker and I will take care of her, but I
do believe you should consult our physician immediately to diagnose
your continued state of shock over this matter. I will take you
myself, this instant. Perhaps the doctor will recommend that you go
alone to the country house. I would be happy to make all the
arrangements.”
Helen Wellington-Trumbell looked straight
into her husband’s face and fell into a dead faint on the floor.
After what seemed like an hour, but was just shy of half that time,
Helen was being lifted onto a pallet by the local patrol officers to
be transported to he doctor’s office. She appeared to remain
unconscious. Ichabod and Mailer stayed close to the woman as she was
being lifted, at one point deliberately blocking James’ attempt to
kneel next to his wife.
“If you and Mrs. Parker would
kindly go ahead and hold open the front entrance, we will accompany
your wife.” Ichabod said. James looked at Crane with pure malice,
but indicated by a nod of his head, that he and Mrs. Parker would
proceed ahead.
Even before he could bend over the prostrate
woman, she was suddenly awake and tugging at Mailer’s sleeve. He
bent his ear close to the woman’s lips. “Do not let Megan stay
with them, I beg you. I beg you. And do not let Janelle come to this
house ever again. Please do these things I am asking.”
As
the stretcher carrying her, came within view of her husband, she
quickly re-assumed an attitude of unconsciousness again.
Crane
let the gurney continue on its way. He blocked James’ way with his
arm. Crane said to the man firmly, “I will be sending over a patrol
officer to guard Miss Megan. I am directing both you and Mrs. Parker
to stay away from the child. If you do not follow my instructions I
shall have the Chief Constable approve a removal order for the girl.
And that my dear Mr. Wellington-Trumbell would certainly raise a lot
of unpleasantness. Now good night to you both.”
Ichabod and
Mailer walked over to their own carriage waiting for them and climbed
in.
Mailer slowly shook his head. “My god, Crane, what a
day! With each break through another mystery presents itself. If you
don’t mind, after we drop you off at the constabulary, I will go on
to the Van Ernst’s. I think it best if I talk to Janelle and
explain that we will need to keep watch of her for several days.”
“Yes” Crane answered. “Before you go, if you don’t
mind, gather the statements made by the staff members at the patrol
station. And have them delivered to my office. But I will not be
going there now. I prefer to be dropped off at my home.” Mailer
looked a little startled at the quiet tone of confidence in which
Ichabod spoke. ‘Do not pull such a long face Mailer, things may
look dark at the moment, but I believe I see light ahead. All will be
known soon. Go and look after your Janelle.”
The carriage
pulled up in front of the Constables house and he leapt down. “Cheer
up, Mailer. You are going to get a citation and a raise in pay out of
this.”