LITMIR.BIZ

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was in bands, called leukonychia striata, and the clerk knew that this was a symptom of poisoning, with lead or arsenic often the cause.

      “As Enid had also suffered hair loss prior to her death, the clerk was convinced that something untoward had happened and an investigation was launched once Dr Woolley confirmed that there was no arsenic present in any of the tonics he had prescribed. It was common at the time for some women to whiten their skin by using a mixture of vinegar, chalk and arsenic, but Alfred Rodgers was vehement that his wife never paid any attention to those ‘ridiculous desires of fashion’ as he called them.”

      “I take it,” said Debbie, “that her husband was putting a noose round his neck when he said that. Why on earth are some men so stupid? All he had to do was say his wife was fashion conscious and quite possibly he’d have walked away scot-free.”

      “Yes, Debbie, you’re correct. But then, if he had, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about tonight, would we?”

      “Stupid man,” muttered Mike. “Now we’re suffering a hundred years later because of him.”

      Again, Louise refused to rise to the bait, continuing instead with her tale. “After this, the investigation increased in intensity, and the police concentrated entirely on Alfred. Nobody even thought to question Eve Rhodes, even though she, too, was present at Enid’s death. Even Alfred failed to think of involving her, probably because he never thought he’d be found guilty. By the time it was evident that he was going to be charged, several months had passed, Eve had left the mill and nobody knew where she had gone to.

      “The case went to trial eventually, with the prosecution claiming that Alfred had been adding small amounts of arsenic to Enid’s meals over a period of several weeks until the concentrated levels in her bloodstream reached the fatal level. The jury seemed to be influenced in this by the fact that Enid had changed her diet in recent weeks, adding rice to most meals — rice was known to contain higher levels of arsenic than other foodstuffs. The prosecutor claimed that made it easy for Alfred to add small levels of arsenic and just hope it would be assumed to be the natural level in the rice if anybody analysed the cause of death.

      “In his defence, Alfred denied initiating the change to her diet, but was unable to offer a suggestion as to why she had so suddenly altered her eating habits. When pressed on the matter, Alfred said it must have been something to do with somebody at work, but neither the mill-owner nor Enid’s colleagues had any knowledge of this. The prosecution claimed that this was proof that Alfred was trying to deflect suspicion onto somebody else, and this proved to be the final nail in Alfred’s metaphorical coffin.

      “Alfred was found guilty of murder and was hanged at Strangeways on March twenty-fifth 1912 — and as we were talking about Crippen before, the hangman, Rochdale’s John Ellis, was the same man who executed Crippen in 1910, and he was also an assistant to Henry Pierrepoint, first of the dynasty of executioners.”

      Louise stopped and waited for a response. I picked up the detailed sheets and began skimming through them, more to avoid eye contact with Louise and a possibly difficult question than to glean any more facts. Then a thought struck me.

      “So this Eve Rhodes,” I began, “I mean, how come they couldn’t trace her? If she was the only other person present when Enid died, surely it would have been important to find her.”

      “So you’d think,” replied Louise, “but remember, this was 1911, and initially there wasn’t any thought of foul play. But, even so, once it became a murder investigation, you would think that they would have made greater efforts to find her. And that is the real point of all of this.” She looked at me and smiled, and I suddenly felt glad that I had been the one to ask the question.

      “I don’t understand,” said Gail, and Trish nodded in agreement. “What is the real point of it all?”

      “Let me explain,” said Louise. “Alfred had a brother, Ernest, who campaigned unsuccessfully to get the death sentence quashed, and he looked everywhere for Eve. Digging far deeper than the police ever did, he trawled through records and managed to discover that she had come over from Canada — otherwise we wouldn’t even have known that about her. He eventually traced Eve’s parents, Mr and Mrs Haborham, who lived in Montreal. They had no more idea where Eve was than anybody else, but Ernest did manage to find out some interesting details concerning their daughter.

      “She had married a man called Anthony Rhodes in 1908 — a lovely man, according to the Haborhams — but the marriage hadn’t worked out. Eve walked out on her husband and baby son a year or two later, leaving Anthony Rhodes distraught and the Haborhams threatening to disown their daughter. This all happened just before the Crippen arrest actually, in the first half of 1910. Not wanted back at her parents’ home, and not prepared to return to her husband and child, Eve seems to have disappeared from Montreal altogether; her parents told Ernest that they never heard another word about her whereabouts.

      “Ernest refused to give up, though, and eventually found Eve’s name on a passenger manifest for a sailing from Quebec to England — she travelled on the SS Laurentic, the same ship that was used to intercept Crippen earlier in the year. Perhaps she had heard all about the Crippen case and had decided to travel to England to follow in his footsteps. Nothing was ever proven, of course, but I think there is enough in Ernest’s findings to at least doubt the guilt of Alfred Rodgers and raise questions as to the involvement of Eve Rhodes in the murder.”

      Louise stopped and began to collect her papers. “Is that it?” asked an incredulous Mike. “You mean I’ve sat here and listened to your theory on why a murderer shouldn’t have been executed but somebody else should have been? And without a shred of evidence? What a waste of time!”

      “There is more to this, much more,” said Louise, “but there isn’t time to go into all of that now. Read the factsheets I handed out, and, as the course progresses, I’m sure it will all become clear. Remember, I’ve been researching this for a long time. I wouldn’t expect you to understand everything in one short session.”

      Mike clearly wasn’t interested in debating this further. He picked up his belongings and walked out of the classroom without a word to any of us; Emma trailed in his wake like a faithful lapdog. The remaining five of us looked at each other before executing a group shrug of the shoulders, and we all tidied away in readiness for leaving.

      I walked out alongside Gail and Trish, with Debbie following just behind us. “That was interesting,” said Gail. “Do you think that woman did kill Enid or was it her husband after all?”

      “It’s impossible to say on that evidence,” said Trish. “Doubtless Louise will have some more to tell us next week, or there might be more details in the handout.”

      “I didn’t notice anything specifically in the papers,” I interjected, “although I didn’t have time to read them in full. But I agree, we don’t have enough information at the moment. We’ll have to wait and see what Louise has to say next week.” I turned and addressed Debbie. “What do you think about it all? You’ve been very quiet.”

      “I know. Sorry. I suppose I’ve just been considering what I’ve heard, taking it all in. I don’t really have an opinion yet.”

      “Well, I for one can’t wait for next week,” I said as I bade farewell to the other three and walked slowly home.

      I rang Julie as soon as I arrived back. “You’ll be happy to hear that the course is going to run, so that’s my Tuesday nights sorted for the next few weeks. Now it’s just the other six nights I’ve to worry about.”

      “Dad! Honestly, one minute I’m having to fight to get you out of your flat at all, the next it sounds like it’s going to be a job to keep you in at night! So what about the others on the course? Have you made any friends yet?”

      “Not the way I think you mean, but, yes, we seem to get on quite well. Changing the subject, you’ll never guess what the topic tonight was.”

      “You’re right, I won’t. I don’t do history, Dad.”

      “I

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