Death at Dinner

by L. A. Nisula

“No more than I’ve already said. He’s trying to delay to improve his position.”

  “And you have no idea what he saw in the books to make him hesitate?”

  “None whatsoever. Can you see yourself out?”

  I was surprised by the abruptness of the dismissal, but Mr. Warland seemed serious. “There were two other guests who were supposed to be at the party—”

  “You’ll have to ask Carrollton about them, or Delford. Now, if you don’t mind.” He went to the door and held it open.

  There didn’t seem to be any choice. I stood up and left the flat.

  When I got back out on the street, I glanced at my watch pin. It was too late to pay a call on Mrs. Delford. I’d have to save her for the morning. And Mrs. Albright was probably waiting to find out what I’d learned at Scotland Yard, so I took the Underground home.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Back home at Paddington Street, Mrs. Albright was in the front hall before I’d gotten my latchkey out of the lock. “Have you solved it?”

  “Not yet. I did visit Mrs. Pomeroy and got addresses for the main suspects.”

  “How is she doing?” Mrs. Albright gestured for me to follow her into her flat.

  We’d only seen her that afternoon, but I said, “She seemed to be in good spirits.”

  “It’s hard for her, all on her own with the rest of them ill. Here, have some homemade fish and chips. I should visit her again tomorrow.”

  I took the plate she offered me. “If you do go, can you check a tonic that’s being delivered for the butler?”

  “You think it’s connected? Vinegar?”

  “Yes, please.” I took the bottle she held out and drowned my chips. “I don’t think it’s connected so much as I want to rule it out. I’m pretty certain it’s sugar-water with a bit of alcohol.”

  “But it could be.”

  Mrs. Albright looked so pleased to be a help that I couldn’t disappoint her. “Certainly. Especially if something was introduced into it. This fish is really good.”

  “I’m glad you like it. My cousin runs a chippy. It’s her recipe. So who did you question today?”

  So she wouldn’t be distracted. “Mr. Warland and Mr. Sharma.” I started to describe what I’d learned about the possibility of embezzlement.

  “Well, that’s a much better motive than anything they have on Alma. You should go and tell that nice inspector about it in the morning.”

  I was going to protest. I could just imagine how livid Inspector Hamilton would be when he found out I’d been investigating, but then Mrs. Albright brought out a cake piled high with cream and strawberries.

  “I remembered you didn’t get your cake the other day. Victoria sponge, wasn’t it?”

  I didn’t tell her I’d managed to get some in the end. “It looks delicious.”

  As she served out the pieces, she casually asked, “So do you think this information will clear Mrs. Pomeroy?”

  So it was a plan to get on my good side. “I don’t know, but I’ll let him know there are other avenues for him to explore.” Now I just had to figure out how I was going to make my meetings sound casual.

  Chapter 16

  THE NEXT MORNING I searched through my desk, looking for any work I hadn’t completed, but there was nothing. I’d finished everything I’d had open, and the case was preventing me from finding new work. By 9:30, I had gotten my desk sorted out and had run out of excuses. I had told myself if I was going to investigate, I was going to start with the worst appointment first. That would be Inspector Hamilton. I assumed he'd be in his office on a Saturday since he was working on a murder case. I still hadn’t come up with a good explanation for how I happened to run into two of the guests from that dinner party in one afternoon, but I'd promised Mrs. Albright, so I kept working on it all the way to Scotland Yard.

  As I waited in line for my turn with the receptionist, I considered leaving a note on the back of one of my cards, short, with no explanation of how I got the information. But Inspector Hamilton would imagine the worst possible scenarios, which probably wouldn't be far wrong, and I wouldn’t get any information out of him. Not that I expected to, not directly anyway. But he did have a habit of leaving his files open on the desk. And I did want to see the look on his face when I told him what I’d discovered, so when it was my turn to be called to the window, I said, “Cassandra Pengear to see Inspector Hamilton. I have some information for him.”

  “Wait to be called.”

  By the time I was called to the lift, I had decided my best bet was to impress him with my information quickly so he wouldn’t ask too many questions and wouldn’t think I was holding anything back.

  Constable Fulton was waiting for me by the lift again. He was friendly enough as we walked down the hallway, and I didn’t see any signs that Inspector Hamilton would be in a bad mood when I got there.

  I plastered a smile on my face as Constable Fulton opened the door and announced me.

  “Show her in, please.”

  Constable Fulton held the door for me. I couldn’t read Inspector Hamilton’s tone of voice through the door, so I settled for saying, “Good morning,” in as businesslike a way as I could manage as I entered.

  Inspector Hamilton was sitting behind his desk. He didn’t stand when I came in but gestured mutely to the chair across from the desk.

  I sat down. If he wasn’t going to speak, I wouldn’t be the first to break the silence.

  Inspector Hamilton arranged the files on his desk, covering all of the interesting parts I noticed, then he looked up.

  “Mr. Sharma came to speak to me.”

  I tried to read Inspector Hamilton, but his very average face hid everything. Mr. Sharma had said he was going to talk to Inspector Hamilton, so it would be best for me to be honest. “Yes, he mentioned he was going to.”

  “And when was that?”

  “When we had tea.” I tried to sound casual, like I met random people for tea every day.

  Inspector Hamilton wasn’t buying it. “I told you, murder is not a lark. You should not be questioning suspects.”

  “I met him for tea, not in some interrogation room hidden in the cellar. It was a public place. And he has no motive. Besides, it’s a good thing we did meet. As Mr. Sharma was telling me about the proposed merger, we realized that Mr. Ainsworth must have been investigating embezzlement.” I didn’t expect him to congratulate me, but I had expected some enthusiasm.

  But Inspector Hamilton was very blasé about that revelation. He waited for my excitement to run down, then said, “I know.”

  I was prepared to be disappointed, then I remembered, “Yes, Mr. Sharma said he was going straight to you when he left the tea shop.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I knew before Mr. Sharma came.”

  “You knew?”

  “Miss Pengear, I appreciate that you went to help your friend, but Scotland Yard has resources you don’t. We already have the information you’re just discovering.”

  “How—”

  Inspector Hamilton took pity on me. “Mr. Carrollton told me himself.”

  “Mr. Carrollton knew about it?”

  “He knew Mr. Ainsworth suspected it was happening, and that Mr. Ainsworth had a suspect and was planning to tell him about it as soon as he gathered the last of the evidence, but not who he suspected. He was hopeful that it would save the merger talks.”

  So much for my brilliant detective work. “How did you find out about it?”

  Inspector Hamilton smiled. “When I questioned him. Remember, he was the only other one who noticed you lurking in the corner.”

  “So you knew from the beginning.”

  “I did. We are looking into it, among other things.”

  “What things?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “The pills?”

  He kept staring at me.

  “I suppose you’ve determined what it was that killed him.”

  He straightened the papers on his desk.

  When
he didn’t go on, I asked, “Strychnine?”

  “No, cyanide.”

  “Cyanide?” I could tell Inspector Hamilton was enjoying my surprise.

  “That’s right. A very large dose of cyanide.”

  “There couldn’t be a mistake?”

  “No, no mistake.” He smiled a little. “I asked them to check again since the symptoms you described were more in keeping with something like strychnine, but they were certain. No strychnine, lots of cyanide. I told you, we have resources you don’t. Now go home and let me investigate. I will lock up the guilty party and only the guilty party, all right?”

  I grabbed my handbag. I was much too irritated to tell him about the guests who had not been at the dinner party. Let him find out for himself. “I’m going. I’m going.” I hoped he didn’t notice that I hadn’t agreed to anything.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Being told to stop investigating by Inspector Hamilton should have discouraged me. After all, I had done everything I had told Mrs. Albright I’d do. But now I’d gotten the investigating bug, and I resented the fact that Inspector Hamilton had found out my brilliant clue before I had. I went to the cafe that Mrs. Albright had suggested earlier in the week and ordered myself a bit of sponge cake and tea then sat by the window to plan.

  I still hadn’t returned Mrs. Delford’s handkerchief. That wasn’t investigating; that was returning lost property. And if murder happened to come up in casual conversation, well, I really couldn’t help that. And I still hadn’t seen Mr. Ainsworth’s office. There could be all sorts of things the police had missed. After all, they hadn’t found the handkerchief or the pipe. I went into the nearest Underground station and consulted the map.

  The office was closer than Mr. Ainsworth’s house and all on one line with no changing trains. It was Saturday, so unlikely to be open, but now that I’d thought of it, I wanted to get a look at the place, even if just from outside. Besides, that would give me more to tell Mrs. Albright if she asked about the case.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The offices of Ainsworth & Delford Esq. were in a nondescript building on a side street above a mid-range jewelers. I rattled the handle of the street door not expecting anything, but it opened. The flight of stairs leading to the office was narrow but had been fitted with gas lamps. I found the door to the office closed but unlocked, and, more surprisingly, there were two clerks inside sorting through papers. They both looked up when I opened the door. The slightly older one put down his papers and came to greet me.

  “Good afternoon, Miss. If you are in need of legal counsel, someone will be in on Monday who can assist you. I could add your name to the appointment book if you’d like.”

  Mrs. Delford would see my name and know at once that it was a lie, so I stuck to the truth. “I’m not a client, I was looking for Mrs. Delford.”

  “She won’t be in for a few days. I can take a message.”

  “Oh no, that’s all right. I’ll try her at Mr. Ainsworth’s. I believe she’s staying there to wrap things up after the unfortunate incident.”

  “You know about that, then.”

  “Yes, I was at the dinner where it happened.”

  He nodded sympathetically “It was certainly tragic. Would you like some tea?” He gestured to the younger clerk, who put down the papers he’d been sorting and got the kettle from the steam pipe and pulled out one of the chairs for me.

  They looked like they wanted a break, so I said, “That would be very nice.”

  While the two clerks arranged the cups and a packet of biscuits for us, I looked around the office as best I could from my chair, but there was nothing significant. The room held three desks and a large amount of paper spread out across all of them. There was one large banker’s box open on the central desk that seemed to be the source of the papers, but I didn’t see where it had come from. There was a door leading to the inner office. I assumed the rest of the boxes of papers were stored in there, and there didn’t seem to be any way for me to sneak a look at them. “I was surprised that there was anyone here today, being a Saturday and all.” The older clerk raised and eyebrow and I realized I’d need an excuse to be there. “But I was just down the street when I realized I had something of Mrs. Delford’s that I ought to return to her, so I took a chance before braving the Underground.”

  That seemed to be explanation enough for him. “Well, the funeral was yesterday, so the office was closed, but the court won’t take that as an excuse for late paperwork, so here we are, holding down the fort as it were.”

  The younger one handed me a cup of tea and held out the packet of biscuits. “So you’re a friend of Mrs. Delford, then?”

  It seemed wisest to say, “Yes, I know a few people at Scotland Yard so I’ve been looking out for her during this trying time.”

  Both clerks lowered their heads a fraction in acknowledgment of the tryingness of the time.

  “Very kind of you,” the older clerk said.

  “We all need friends at a time like this,” the younger one added. “I hope it isn’t impertinent to ask, but has she discussed her plans with you?”

  “Her plans?” What kind of plans could she have? Running off to some island with her embezzled money? I struggled to come up with a good answer. “I’m sure she’ll need some time off. She was very upset by it all.”

  “I meant about the firm.”

  “The firm?”

  The older one picked up the kettle and re-filled my cup. “Yes, didn’t you know? She inherits the firm.”

  I stared at him. “I wasn’t aware that she had a law degree.”

  “She does not. Nonetheless, it is hers. It was set up that way when Mr. Delford and Mr. Ainsworth began the firm. Everything went to Mr. Ainsworth on Mr. Delford's passing, and if there was no new partner, it was to be passed on to Mrs. Delford on Mr. Ainsworth's passing. Now, as you say, she does not have a law degree and therefore cannot practice law, so a few of us were hoping to pool our money and buy her out, if she wanted to sell. That would be so much nicer than having strangers come in and take over.”

  “How much were you offering?”

  The figure he named almost made my jaw drop. “As much as that?”

  “It’s the best we can do, I’m afraid. So she hasn’t said anything to you?”

  Or to Inspector Hamilton, I suspected. “I don’t think she’s been in any state to make those kinds of decisions.”

  They both nodded and murmured something that sounded like, “Of course, of course,” but came out as a sensitive buzz in two-part harmony.

  “You won’t mention it to her, though, will you?” the younger one asked. “It’s just that we want to approach her in the right way, and it’s just possible that we might be able to raise a little more money before we do.”

  “I understand completely.”

  “I knew you looked sympathetic.” The younger clerk began to gather up the empty cups.

  The older clerk rose to show me to the door. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have been more help to you. Have a lovely afternoon.”

  Since he was holding the door for me, there didn’t seem to be much choice but to leave. As I descended the stairs, I wondered whether or not to tell Inspector Hamilton about Mrs. Delford’s inheritance. It did give her motive, but it was the sort of thing he should be able to find out for himself, so I didn’t see much need, unless I wanted to pay a call on him at some point. But for now I had a handkerchief to return.

  Chapter 17

  MR. AINSWORTH HAD LIVED in a townhouse in a respectable part of the city inhabited by doctors, successful inventors, other lawyers, and their families. I could hear a primary school somewhere around, and several curtains twitched as I climbed the steps to the front door. It was an old-fashioned kind of house, with a bell by the door and no pneumatic tube for calling cards. I gave the bell-pull a tug and waited.

  I didn’t have to wait long before the door was opened by a parlor maid. She asked for my card then ushered me inside. I expected to be asked to wai
t somewhere, but the maid must have been in a hurry since she led me directly to the sitting room where Mrs. Delford was going through papers.

  “Miss Cassandra Pengear to see you.” She ushered me in before Mrs. Delford had a chance to answer.

  Mrs. Delford didn’t seem put out. “Thank you, Ruby. Please bring some tea.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Delford moved the papers to a chair. “We met at tea the other day I think, outside of Scotland Yard. You were helping Mrs. Pomeroy, weren’t you? Were you able to help prove her innocence?”

  “I don’t know. They’re still investigating. I found your handkerchief at Mr. Carrollton’s, though, and I wanted to return it to you.”

  “That was kind. Please sit down.”

  I put the handkerchief on the table and sat in the chair opposite her.

  “You said they were still investigating. Does that mean you know what they’re looking at?”

  “There’s been talk of embezzlement. That Mr. Sharma found something wrong with the books. Do you know who would have had access to them? Perhaps at Mr. Ainsworth’s office?”

  “Only Mr. Carrollton and Mr. Warland would have been authorized to look at any papers we had in our office, and Mr. Ainsworth of course. We keep them under lock and key, and Mr. Ainsworth was the only one with the key. I have it now. Does the inspector know about this?”

  So Mr. Warland was back at the top of my list of suspects. “Yes, he does. In fact, I spoke to him about it.”

  “When did he find out, I wonder.”

  “He mentioned that Mr. Carrollton told him the night it happened.”

  “Oh.”

  The maid came in with the tea tray, and we waited while she set it down and left.

  Mrs. Delford reached for the teapot. “I wonder why Inspector Hamilton never asked me about it.”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “He doesn’t confide in me. I have to drag every bit of information out of him.”

  Mrs. Delford poured out the tea. “So you think they suspect me? Because the poison was in his pills?”