Basham, Robert F. Clifton [inspirational books to read .TXT] 📗

police artist put together.”

Doctor Barker, studied the drawing and handed it back to the detective. “ I will admit sir that the woman in question is quite attractive. However, let me tell you that this is not Mildred Perkins. Mildred Perkins was a nurse here. She was making her rounds when a German bomb hit the hospital. She, some other members of the staff and a few patients were killed that night. Some were blown to bits. I will tell you this. If you want my opinion the woman in the drawing appears to be one, Emily

Watson, a patient we thought was vaporized in the attack. Apparently we were wrong. I looks like she escaped, but believe me, she is not Mildred Perkins, unless she's come back from the dead.”

“Fine Doctor, then what can you tell me about this patient of yours, Emily Watson?”

“Other than the fact that I know she's missing from this hospital, nothing. I'm sure both of you know that my hands are tied with the doctor/patient confidentiality.”

“Berty, I wouldn't insult you by attempting to have you do away with your professional ethics. I know you can't supply us with important information in this case. However, I'm certain that you know someone, someone not tied down by ethics who can talk with us,” said Basham.

“Well since you put it that way, I suggest you talk to a woman known as Edwina Fillmore. I'll give you her address.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

Emily Watson

 

Alistair Basham stood behind Inspector Richardson as the detective knocked on the front door of the house located at 300 Cyprus Street, Bethnal Green, London. Both man waited patiently for someone to open the door. When someone did, Richardson removed his Derby and said, “Good day. I'm Inspector Richardson of the Metropolitan Police and this is Mr. Basham. I hope that you are Eleanor Fillmore.”

“I am and why are you here?” answered the tall thin woman who was seventy five years old with completely, white hair.

“This is a matter of great importance and may I say a case where hopefully you can provide me with some information,”said the detective.

“About what?”

“Emily Watson”.

“Oh her. What's she been up to now?, asked Eleanor.

“Excuse me, but I don't think having our conversation on your front porch is the place to talk.”

“Alright, come in and wipe your feet, both of you.”

Once inside the parlor of the home both men stood, waiting to be told to be seated. When the elderly woman took a seat in a rocking chair she said, “Alright, sit down and tell me what this is all about.”

“ I'd like to start with how you are familiar with Emily Watson”, said Richardson.

“She's my niece, my brothers daughter.”

“I see and can you tell me why she was in Haven Manor?”

“ Certainly, because she's cracker's (insane).

“Could you tell me if she was always that way or was there something that caused her condition?”

“I'll start right at the beginning. When she was ten years old, she accused her father, my brother, of incestuous acts. Naturally, he denied it. My sister in law, Emily's mother refused to believe it and accused Emily of lying. Well, Emily complained constantly that my brother was abusing her. The more she complained the more her mother refused to believe her. Finally, at age sixteen, Emily told her father that if he continued to do what he was doing she would go to the police. Now, I don't know what happened after that, but one day my brother went into his tool shed and hanged himself. Thereafter, Emily's mother blamed her daughter's imagined stories about her father as the cause of his death. During an argument between mother and daughter, Emily became enraged and strangled her mother to death.

Emily was arrested. While in custody she was evaluated and found to be mentally ill. The court ordered her confined to a mental hospital and she was sent to Haven Manor. Now, since the police are interested in her, what has she done?”

“We believe that she is responsible for several murders in East London,” said the Inspector.

“How could that be? She was confined”, said Eleanor.

“During an air raid the hospital was struck by a bomb. We think that in the damage and confusion Emily walked away,” Richardson explained.

“I see. Well, that's about all I can tell you about my niece, poor, pathetic thing. Do you know where she may be?”

“No, we were hoping you might be able to tell us.”

“Sorry, I haven't a clue.”

“Well thank you very much,” said Richardson.

On the drive back to Harrow, Basham asked, “Well. What do you make of what the woman told us?”

“ Right now, I don't know what to think. What's your opinion?, asked the Inspector.

“I must admit that it is intriguing. I'm no psychiatrist, but I see her motive for killing Bennett and Dixon due to recall of the abuse to her by her father. Assuming that both men acted inappropriately of course.'

“And her motive for killing the women?”

“Again and this is purely speculative, I believe that when she comes in contact with certain elderly women, they remind her of her mother. This triggers memories resulting in the urge to kill. I'd even go so far as to say it may be a desire to kill her mother again and again, over and over.”

“Well, you are the authority on the subject of her criminality. I'm responsible now for her capture,” said Richardson.

“How are you going about it now that you know who she is?”

“My theory is that now alone, without funds, ration book, and the false identity of Mildred Perkins, Emily Watson is wandering the streets of East London. That being the case every foot patrolman holding a copy of the composite drawing is on the lookout for her. At the same time I intend to post plainclothes officers at the top and bottom of every tube entrance in the area. Since people are not allowed into the tubes for shelter until four pm, two officers are assigned on the subway platforms in case she wants a ride out.”

“Seems like you got everything covered.”

“I hope so professor. Let me ask you this, why take the identity of Mildred Perkins?”

Probably because there was a friendly connection between the two. Mildred Perkins was the nurse assigned to that particular ward where Emily lived. The night of the bombing by chance Emily went to the nurse's office and found her dead. She took Mildreds coat, pocketbook and shoes, then left through the hole in the wall. Keep in mind that this is only my theory”.

“Well it's as good as any. I wonder where she got clothing to wear?”

“Any bombed out boutique or possible from someone's clothesline.”

***************

Emily Watson took her time walking on the sidewalk. From time to time she would stop and turn around, looking to see if anyone was following her. If and when she saw a uniformed bobby she would cross to the other side of the street. She was becoming tired, thirsty and hungry, but she had no money. Remembering Helen she began looking for charity tents, a place where she could get something to eat, to drink, a place to sit down and rest. If she was lucky she might be offered a bed for the night. Still, there was the problem of the drawing in the newspapers. Someone, anyone, might recognize her as the young woman wanted by the police.

In the middle of the city block Emily saw a woman's Voluntary Service Mobil Canteen. She headed for it. When she got there two women workers looked out of the opening in the side of the vehicle and said, “Are you alright girl? You look a might done in.”

“Actually, I'm quite hungry,” she answered.

“Here now, we mustn't have that. What we have here is for the blokes fighting the fires and pulling people out of the damage, but also anyone down and out because of the blitz. by the looks of you I think we can spare a cup of cocoa to go with your meal. It's Roundtree mind you”.

“That would be wonderful”, said Emily.

“It will be just a minute. Mable dishing it up for you right now.”

After being handed the hot meal of sausage, potatoes and a salad Emily sat on the curb eating it. When she was finished she heard a voice behind her say, “ Now, Miss, we want you to come along with us. We'll make sure you get your medicine, a nice warm bed each night and three meals a day. I might say that it's much more than most get now days.”

Emily turned and saw a uniformed police officer standing with two plainclothes detectives. One of them in a brown suit said, “Now Emily or Mildred if you prefer come along like a nice girl. We won't want any trouble out here on the street and in public.”

“No! You want to send me back, back to that place where they torture me. You don't know what it's like being stuck with needles or being electrocuted while people stand around watching. I've done nothing wrong here. I'm no street walking tart.”

***********

 

Inspector James Richardson stood looking through a small, thick, plate glass window mounted in the door of the holding cell at the Fleet Street Station. He watched Emily Watson seated on the black, leather covered mattress on top of the small bed in the room. As he watched he noticed that she was talking, but couldn't hear what she was saying. Turning to the uniformed turnkey he said, “Alright open it up.”

When the cell door opened Emily turned her head at the sound, then stood up as Richardson entered the room. “Who are you?”, she asked.

Richardson told her who he was and told her that he wanted to talk to her.

“What about?”, she asked.

“Well, I'd like to start with asking you if you know an elderly woman, named Henrietta Camp?”

“No, never heard of her,” said Emily.

“Alright, do you know a man named Alford Bennett?”

“I know that he's a bad bloke, an abuser he is.”

“Do you remember hurting him?”

Emily didn't answer. Instead she looked up at the ceiling.

“Do you remember working in a library recently? A library located near Victoria Station?,” asked Richardson.

“Why would I be in a library? I'm much to busy to take time out of my schedule to be in a library.”

“Busy doing what?”

“I'm a social worker. I attend to the elderly in times like this. I make sure that they are safe and healthy.”

“Oh, that's nice. Can you tell me just how many people you have helped?”

Oh, I don't know. Three or four. I'd have help a lot more if the police hadn't picked me up and brought me here.”

“I'm sure you would have. Now, what can you tell me about Clyde Dixon?”

“He's an evil, evil, man.”

“Then I take it you don't like him.”

“I'll tell you this, I'd like to see him dead.”

“Do you remember hurting Mr. Dixon?”

“Did I?”

“Yes, mighty bad, I'd say.”

“Good.”

“Let's return to your work as a social worker. You said that you made sure that the elderly that you worked with were safe and healthy. How did you go about it?”

“I'd take their blood pressure and once I was done I made sure that they would go to another place, a place where they would be away from the bombs and destruction.”

“I see. Well, thank you Miss Watson.”

“For what?”

“For talking with me.”

“Can I go now? I must go now. I've lost my pocketbook and my stethoscope.”

“Just sit and rest. We'll see that you go where you can see many stethoscopes.”

“Good. Thank you.”

*************

Alistair and Inspector Richardson sat in the kitchen of Basham's home. Speaking to Marjorie Helm, the Inspector said, “I managed to find a jar of honey. One of the officers at the station house has a cousin out in the country side. Evidently the chap raises bees. I thought that you might like to have it”.

“Oh, indeed sir, thank you”, Marjorie replied.

Turning his attention back to Alistair, Richardson said, “So, that winds up the case involving Mildred Perkins, also known as Emily