Free Act of Murder by Alan J. Wright Page A

public?’
    She lifted her head and he was surprised to see tears welling in her eyes.
    ‘My dearest – have I offended you?’
    ‘Offended?’ She uttered the word with a heavy emphasis, and appeared to be on the verge of elaborating when she stopped and took a deep breath. ‘Have I been a disappointment to
you, Richard?’
    He held her hand tightly. ‘Of course not. But why should you think . . .’
    ‘Haven’t I done everything – and more, much more – that a wife can reasonably be expected to do?’
    ‘You have been my rock, my darling wife.’
    She looked him fully in the face. ‘Yes, I believe I have. I have even done things of which I am now deeply ashamed.’
    Richard sighed and looked around. There was no one within earshot. ‘You have done nothing whatsoever to be ashamed of. I know the thing to which you refer. To which you always refer. And
it is of no consequence, I assure you.’
    ‘No consequence!’ Georgina gave a hollow laugh.
    Richard looked blank. ‘I think you’re tired. Tonight’s performance must have been more fatiguing than we expected.’
    ‘I am not fatigued, you stupid man!’
    Two of the assistants stopped what they were doing and looked down the row of seats at their employers.
    ‘Get on with your work!’ Richard snapped, twisting his head around quickly. ‘Or there’ll be no work tomorrow, I assure you all of that!’
    Chastened, they resumed their tasks.
    ‘So please tell me, Georgina, what this is all about.’ His voice now was tinged with a growing exasperation.
    ‘This afternoon,’ she said. ‘You lied to me.’
    He gave a nervous smile. ‘I did not lie, dearest. Those card sharps were the very stuff of nightmares, I can assure you.’
    ‘If by that you mean they were not real, then I accept what you say.’
    Before he could respond, she went on. ‘But I am not referring to these mythical card sharps, nor to the alleycat you must have been tomming. No. I refer to something else
entirely.’
    Richard, his face a picture of relief and confusion, begged her to continue.
    ‘The man you spoke to, the one you say asked you to present a show of touching morality to his Sunday School children.’
    Richard averted his gaze.
    ‘I knew it!’ she said with a note of triumph in her voice. ‘You promised me that sort of thing was done with. If Edward were to find out –’
    Richard laughed. ‘So what if he were to find out?’
    ‘Well, I should like to remind you of his promise to provide his backing. His considerable financial backing.’
    ‘Georgina, my dearest. Have you ever considered the possibility that I might be able to secure other, shall we say, more worldly backers? Backers who would be a little less squeamish than
your sainted brother?’
    ‘But you promised that things would change.’
    ‘Oh, change is very much what I have in mind, my sweet. It simply may be necessary to effect it without the involvement of dear anointed Edward.’
    *
    Violet Cowburn sat up in her hospital bed and placed her hands gingerly on her chest. ‘Three broken ribs!’ she said. ‘How can I do anythin’ wi’
three broken ribs?’
    Constable Bowery, who was sitting beside the bed, slowly shook his head. It was a conundrum, he seemed to be saying.
    ‘It hurts me when I breathe.’
    ‘It would.’ Jimmy Bowery glanced down the long stretch of beds in the female ward.
    Why wouldn’t she answer his question? Didn’t take much breath to give a simple bloody nod. So he tried again. ‘It was your dad did this, wasn’t it, Violet?’I mean,
did your dad throw you down the stairs?’
    ‘Me dad? Did ’e ’eck as like!’ She turned away and began to cough, which caused her to wince in agony and clutch at her chest once more.
    It was no more than he expected. If Ding Dong Bell had thought he would come away from the Royal Albert Edward Infirmary with a statement confirming Billy Cowburn’s guilt, then he
couldn’t have been more wrong. This lot stick together like