Page 34 of Cloaked in Deception (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #4)

Chapter Seventeen

D ew coated the grass and flower beds outside Mrs. Barnston’s inn the next morning, and a low-hanging mist curled up toward the rising sun.

As Jasper set out for the orphanage, he was unexpectedly grateful for his coat.

The air held a raw chill that would never be present in London in June.

Back home, the close, humid air gathered under his shirt before he could arrive at Scotland Yard each morning.

He now understood why the wealthy abandoned their city homes and set out for their country estates at the close of May.

Despite it being far more agreeable in the borough of Twickenham, Jasper needed to return to the city. Hell, after the telegram PC Landry had just delivered to his and Lewis’s breakfast table a few minutes ago, he began to wish he hadn’t left at all.

“What do you think it means, guv?” Lewis asked as he kept pace with Jasper.

The telegraphed message had been sent to the constabulary from Scotland Yard during the night.

However, the constable on duty—the same one who’d been sleeping outside the orphanage’s infirmary—had also slept through the arrival of the message.

When PC Landry arrived at the station, he’d found the ticker tape waiting, deciphered the Morse code, and brought it swiftly to the inn.

S Hayes admits George is Edward. G now missing. Westover is NCR.

There wasn’t room in a brief telegram for context, but Jasper knew the message must have come from Leo and understood what she meant.

That she’d gone to Scotland Yard with information regarding his case would not be overlooked by Coughlan or anyone else within the CID.

He wasn’t looking forward to the complications it would undoubtedly cause, but that was a worry for another time.

“Stanley Hayes must have arranged to adopt Edward Seabright, whom he raised as his own son, George,” Jasper explained to his detective sergeant as they walked along Hampton Road, now busy with horse-drawn wagons and carts, children and their mothers approaching the costermongers’ handcarts, and a few men in farmer’s threads.

“And now the boy is missing?” Lewis asked.

“It appears that way.”

Stanley had left London with George two days ago.

If Leo had spoken to Stanley, did that mean he was back in London?

And if George wasn’t with him, where had the boy gone?

The questions plagued Jasper. As did the fact that Leo had sent the message.

He’d asked her to stand down while he was away, and she’d sworn to do just that.

Yet, it seemed she had broken that promise.

“What’s this bit about Matron Westover being NCR?” Lewis asked as Jasper tried to calm his irritation.

Quickly, Jasper reminded him about the old letter found in Martha Seabright’s handbag.

Lewis recalled it, though he admitted to having forgotten about the initials NCR being used as a signature.

When Jasper went over Leo’s theory—that the payment enclosed had been for giving up her child, Edward—Lewis hissed through his teeth.

“She sold her own baby to Stanley Hayes? What kind of mum would do such a thing?”

The kind who wanted to be rid of her children, according to Esther Goodwin.

As Wellesley House came into view, Jasper went on, “Our victim last night was Charlotte Radcliff. Nurse Charlotte Radcliff.”

Lewis nodded, acknowledging the appropriate initials. “But then how is Matron Westover NCR?”

Jasper increased his pace. “That is what we are going to find out.”

The manor house was slightly less menacing in the morning light, but with Jasper bringing down the knocker, waiting a long minute, and then knocking again, the place took on last night’s unwelcoming impression.

After a few more minutes and another round of knocking, at last, the door opened. An older man with patchy silver whiskers, impressive jowls, and the clothing of a laborer gave them a once over.

“You’re the detectives, I take it,” he said.

Jasper had an idea as to who this was. “That’s correct. And you are Mr. Clooney, the groundskeeper?”

“Aye,” he said, stepping aside and allowing them in.

The murmurs of children’s voices could be heard in a nearby room, and a woman in a serviceable black gown and white mobcap swept into view from one corridor before disappearing into another.

There was a strange friction in the air, and Mr. Clooney’s prolonged hesitation after shutting the door added to it.

“Has something more happened since last night?” Jasper asked.

“It’s Matron.” The groundskeeper clasped his hands together and rubbed his palms nervously. “She hasn’t been seen this morning.”

The news should have struck Jasper like a hammer on an anvil. But it did not, and he merely shook his head. “I knew something was off.”

He should have paid more attention to the matron’s change in attitude after he’d brought up the Seabrights.

“What’s that? What was off?” Mr. Clooney asked. But Jasper didn’t have the time nor the patience to explain.

“Who is in charge without Matron Westover here?”

“That would be me, Inspector,” a short, older woman said as she came down the stairs at a brisk pace.

While Matron Westover had moved and spoken with cultured, gentle elegance, this woman was abrupt and direct.

She held Jasper’s stare as she came to a stop in the entrance hall.

“My name is Mistress Richards. I oversee the younger girls at Fortescue House across the street. I must ask what you said to Matron last night.”

There was no mistaking her accusatory stare or tone.

“I had questions to put to her regarding the murder of Nurse Radcliff,” he answered.

“She was clearly distraught about what happened to her aunt. I knew she should not have dealt with the police,” Mistress Richard huffed.

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” Lewis asked.

“None at all. She has never disappeared like this.”

“Cherry is missing from the stables,” Mr. Clooney interjected.

“Is that Matron’s horse?” Lewis asked.

“No, Cherry belongs to the orphanage.”

“But can Matron Westover ride?” Jasper’s question received a nod of the groundskeeper’s head. As the first train of the day from Twickenham station was not leaving for another thirty- five minutes, he presumed the matron had left the vicinity on horseback.

“Most of her clothes are gone,” Mistress Richards said, an edge of panic to her already tense tone. “I’m quite concerned for her.”

Matron Westover had run, no question. And Jasper was beginning to comprehend why.

“Mistress Richards, I need to see Martha Seabright’s file,” he said. “Her children were placed here in 1871.”

She scoffed at him. “I cannot share that with you. Recipients of the fund are guaranteed their privacy, no matter how far back the year may be.”

“Seabright?” Mr. Clooney said. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in an age.”

Unlike Mistress Richards’s fractious reaction to the Seabright name, the groundskeeper merely looked a bit wistful. It was unexpected, considering one of the children had killed his dog.

“I understand Gavin Seabright gave your dog too much sedative one night so he could sneak out and run away,” Jasper said.

Mr. Clooney grimaced and shrugged. “It were an accident. He were a troubled one, that young boy. Especially after what happened with his wee brother.”

Clearly, the groundskeeper didn’t hold the incident against Gavin.

“Felt right awful for what he done,” the man kept on. “Offered to work for me for the whole summer to make up for it. And he ended up staying on as my assistant of sorts until he left here.”

Sir Eamon had not imparted that detail. Had he, Jasper might not have worried so much about Gavin’s character and his visit to the morgue to see Leo.

“You recall Edward Seabright?” he asked the groundskeeper.

“Oh, aye. I remember every grave I’ve ever dug for a wee one.”

“Mr. Clooney,” Jasper began, “did you see the child after he had passed?”

“See him?” The groundskeeper crinkled his forehead. “No, no. I couldn’t ever bear it, looking at the dead little ones. No, he were already in his wee casket. I only lowered it into the grave.”

“Who then placed the child in the casket?” Jasper asked.

At this, Mistress Richards protested. “Inspector, your questions are quite perturbing. What is their purpose?”

“Forgive me, but last evening, Matron Westover became agitated when I asked about Martha Seabright and her infant son, Edward. Martha was shot and killed a few days ago in London, and my investigation since then has led to the story of Edward’s death.

Without going into greater detail, I need to know if Matron Westover was ever a nurse here. ”

Leo’s message— Westover is NCR —sat like a rock in his gut. It grew in size when Mistress Richards answered.

“She was. Many years ago. In fact, she was our first head nurse. Why?”

He closed his eyes. “And her name at that time?”

“Radcliff. Caroline Radcliff,” she answered.

Nurse Caroline Radcliff. Not Charlotte, but Caroline.

“Mr. Clooney,” he said, turning back to the groundskeeper. “Was it Caroline Radcliff who prepared the casket?”

He gave a nod. Matron Westover had been the one to declare Edward dead. And yet, she’d sat before Jasper in her office last night, claiming to not recall the Seabright name. Then, after Jasper’s inquiries about the family, she’d packed her things and fled in the night.

“Did she marry, then?” Lewis asked, scribbling everything down in his notepad. “Take a new last name?”

“She married one of the masters here, Charles Westover. Sadly, he died, but she remained.” Mistress Richards canted her head. “I think, in part, because of her aunt.”

Jasper raised his hand, feeling spun around. “Charlotte Radcliff?”

“Yes, Charlotte was Matron here for many years. When she decided it was time to step down, the governors approved the exchanging of their roles.”

So, Nurse Radcliff had become Matron Westover, while Matron Radcliff had become Nurse Radcliff.

“The wrong Nurse Radcliff,” Jasper murmured.

Lewis lifted his pencil. “Guv?”

The groundskeeper and Mistress Richards stared at him in confusion too.

But at last, Jasper had some clarity. Leo’s theory had been correct: The baby had not died.

Paula’s suspicion all these years had been warranted, and bringing up Edward with Matron Westover last night had tipped her off that her secret could be coming to light.

Caroline Westover had facilitated the sale of Martha Seabright’s infant son. Martha had clearly known of the transaction, as she had been paid for her decision. Now, Martha was dead.

If Paula Blickson and Gavin Seabright had learned the truth, if they found out their mother had sold their brother and that Nurse Caroline Radcliff had helped, they would have strong motive to take their revenge on the two women.

But why now? Thirteen years had passed uneventfully.

And surely, Paula and Gavin, had they approached Nurse Radcliff in the infirmary last night with the intention of killing her, would have recognized her as the former Matron. They would have known she wasn’t the same Nurse Radcliff responsible for Edward’s disappearance.

It led Jasper to think the killer had been someone else. Someone who hadn’t resided at the orphanage and who’d only been given a name—Nurse Radcliff—and the place where to find her.

“Inspector, please explain what you are thinking,” Mistress Richards urged. He’d been silently sorting through all the pieces of information, leaving the others to wait.

“I am coming upon the reason Nurse Radcliff was killed,” he replied. “And possibly why Martha Seabright was as well.”

There was nothing more to be done here. He and Lewis needed to get back to London.