Death of a Suffragette (The Flora Maguire Mysteries) by Anita Davison

Author:Anita Davison [Davison, Anita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2023-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

18

Flora pushed through the main door of Prince Albert Mansions but was forced to a halt when she almost collided with a woman who was on her way in. Flora backed away, murmuring her apologies.

‘It is of no consequence,’ the stranger muttered through a heavy black veil as she swept past Flora and up the stairs, a hint of a floral perfume trailing behind her.

‘Good afternoon, Miss,’ Dunne said, distracting Flora. ‘Damp out today. That fog’s nasty stuff. You’re soaked afore you knows it.’

‘Uh, yes. Indeed.’ Flora turned towards him with a polite smile, then glanced up at the landing, which stood empty. ‘Who was that lady who came in just now? You were talking to her when I arrived earlier.’

‘That would be Mrs Crabbe.’ He stroked his chin with one hand. ‘Can’t say I was talking to her exactly. She tends not to engage in conversation with the likes of me, if you see what I mean.’

‘I think I do, Mr Dunne.’ Flora smiled as an image of her mother-in-law floated into her head. ‘Didn’t you say she doesn’t go out much?’

The porter’s brows rose into his hairline. ‘Come to think of it I did, and she doesn’t. That’s the first time I’ve seen her all week.’

‘I see, well thank you, Mr Dunne.’ Flora ushered Sally outside into a light drizzle, glad she didn’t have to go far as drops of moisture gathered on strands of hair that escaped her hat. The road was less crowded now it was nearer the luncheon hour. Apart from the horse buses and carts that whooshed through gathering puddles, the only pedestrians were a nanny who manhandled a bulky, coach-built pram through the narrow Hyde Park gate and a man in a grey overcoat with his hat pulled down who strode along on the park side of the road.

The shop window of Boltons Library was partly obscured by handwritten cards of all shapes and sizes, some pristine and new, others faded by the sun. Most of the messages they contained offered handyman services or appealed for lady’s maids, butlers and domestic staff. Each displayed an accompanying number in a corner to which the applicant could apply, thus keeping the employer’s identity a secret, which reiterated to Flora that Miss Evangeline Lange had a desire for secrecy.

The heavy glazed door resisted Flora’s gentle push, opening just enough to give her a reflected view of the road behind her. The man in grey had halted opposite, his attention focused in her direction. His face struck her as familiar, but she couldn’t remember where – or even if – she had seen him before. Pausing, she turned back to get a clearer look, but a horse-drawn bus blocked her view, disgorging a stream of passengers onto the pavement. When it pulled away again, the man was no longer there. Really, Flora, you are imagining things.

‘What’s wrong, Missus?’ Sally stared up at her.

‘I thought—oh, it was nothing. This constant fog makes me see shadows everywhere.’ She straightened her shoulders and gave the door a firm shove.

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