Stabbing Set with Sapphires

by L. A. Nisula

  “That isn’t necessary. But if you could put a note somewhere where it won’t interfere with the crime scene, that would be helpful. And then lock the front door when you get back.”

  “Certainly.” I went back into the salesroom and grabbed a pen from under the counter and paper from my typewriter case as it seemed the fastest and wrote, “Use Front Door” in large letters. I debated the best way to end and finally decided on “Police Here.” After recent events, that wouldn’t cause a panic or even a raised eyebrow, really, and then we could tell them what happened in person.

  In the back courtyard, I found a tall crate and pinned the note to it, then moved the whole thing to the front of the alley where everyone would have to pass to get to the back door. I knew I didn’t have much time since I did need to lock the front door, but I made a quick scan of the area. There was a muddy patch near the entrance to the tea seller next door with footprints leading to and from the back door, but it was a rather out-of-the-way spot if you weren’t coming from that door. The footprints didn’t seem to continue much past that patch, although I saw a few smudges which could have just as easily come from delivery men. Everything else looked just the same. I doubted I’d have time to examine the ground properly, so I went back inside and locked the door.

  I found Miss Kleinman in the lounge with Miss Peters and Miss Eaton. She looked up when I came in. “I sent my brother for pastries. He should be here soon.”

  Miss Peters brought the kettle over. “Not much selection of tea today, I’m afraid.”

  I was going to volunteer to run to the shop next door and get some when Miss Henderson burst into the room, followed by Miss Fairfield at a more sedate pace. “Oh, Connie, I just heard. I'm so sorry."

  I looked around the room to see who Connie was. Miss Peters was looking up, but it was Miss Eaton whom Miss Henderson threw her arms around.

  “I know you were keeping it a secret, but now that he's... Now you don't have to keep it secret anymore. I heard you two talking about the engagement when I went into the office for a... for some paperwork. How awful, but you didn't find the body, right?"

  Miss Eaton furrowed her brow as Miss Henderson enveloped her in a crushing hug, then her face fell and she started to sob. “It's true, it's true. He and I were going to be married just as soon as he could get away from his family obligations.”

  Miss Peters patted her back and Miss Kleinman went to get her a cup of the weak tea.

  "How long were you engaged?” Miss Fairfield asked. This seemed to be new information for all of them, and they were torn between the desire for fresh gossip and wanting to comfort her.

  "Almost three months."

  "But, well, I heard..."

  "Oh, we talked about it before that, but it was official for three months."

  "Why didn't you tell us?" Miss Peters asked as she brought a chair for Miss Eaton.

  "His family...” The phrase was drowned in her sobs before we could hear what they objected to.

  Everyone's eyes went to her left hand. “So you had to hide the ring? How romantic,” Miss Henderson said.

  “You should hold onto it in this tragic time.” Even though she was trying to be subtle, it was obvious Miss Peters wanted to see it. So did the others, although no one wanted to say so directly. It only made sense, considering they worked in a jewelry store. Even Miss Kleinman’s eyes darted to Miss Eaton’s hand.

  “We hadn’t gotten to rings. He was going to design one, but it was never perfect.” Miss Eaton faded into sobs again.

  “How tragic for you,” Miss Henderson said.

  “But you’ll have his letters,” Miss Peters added.

  I felt like I was in the way, as I didn’t know any of them, not really, after only a week. I left the lounge and went into the hall. I could see the constable using the telephone in Mr. Kleinman’s office, so the Yard should be on their way.

  I went to the end of the short hallway and looked around the door to see what I could of the crime scene before Inspector Wainwright closed it off, but since I didn't want to contaminate it and give Inspector Wainwright a good reason to be annoyed with me, I couldn't see much.

  The body had fallen on the table so I couldn't see him properly through the door. The tools and bits of stone were only partially blocked by him, though.

  I pulled out the small magnifying lens I had on a chain around my neck―a gift from Mrs. Albright―and tried to use it to get a better look at the scene. The lenses unfolded so I could use it like a monoscope to scan the room. There were several small stones scattered across the desk. From where I was standing, I couldn't be sure what they were, but they were blue, so I would have guessed sapphires. So the killer hadn't been going for random things but had a target in mind.

  I heard a pounding on the front door and put the lens away. Inspector Wainwright wouldn’t want me anywhere near the crime scene. I darted down the short hallway and into the main corridor. As I passed the door to the selling floor, I could hear Mr. Kleinman explaining the latest events to Inspector Wainwright. I was almost at the lounge when I saw Miss Eaton come out and head towards the sales floor. “You may not want to go in there. Inspector Wainwright just arrived.”

  “Oh, thank you, I suppose.” She managed a strained smile.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Yes, I mean, it was. Tragic,” she said in the flat voice of someone in shock.

  “When did you last see him?” I tried to sound like a sympathetic friend, but apparently I didn’t do as well as I thought since she shook her head and wandered aimlessly towards the hall to the vault room. I was going to hurry after her and stop her before she saw Mr. Morris lying there, when Inspector Wainwright and Mr. Kleinman entered from the sales room.

  Mr. Kleinman held out the bag from the bakery. “Miss Eaton, would you bring these to the lounge?” I realized he probably didn’t know about the engagement. Miss Kleinman certainly hadn’t.

  Miss Eaton took the bag from him and wandered back to the lounge without saying anything.

  Miss Kleinman came out a moment later. “Douglas we need to―Inspector, you’re here. I’ll show you where he is.” She led the way to the vault with Mr. Kleinman and Inspector Wainwright following. I followed them. We all stopped just outside the door to the foyer.

  Chapter 10

  INSPECTOR WAINWRIGHT WENT TO THE BODY. “This is how you found him?”

  “That’s right.”

  He examined Mr. Morris’s neck, leaning in very close to look at the knife handle sticking out of it. “Did anything strike you at first glance?”

  “Only that he was dead.”

  He straightened. “All right, you may return to the lounge to await questioning.”

  Miss Kleinman ignored Inspector Wainwright and stayed in the doorway. I debated what to do, but when I took a step back, Miss Kleinman grabbed my sleeve. I stayed put. Mr. Kleinman looked like he wanted to run, but he didn’t want to abandon the two of us. I was sure Inspector Wainwright knew we were there, but he seemed resigned to it as he intently studied the desk and didn’t say anything.

  We watched in silence until Inspector Wainwright came to the door. “What do you think these are?” He held out a few of the blue stones from the table wrapped in a handkerchief.

  Miss Kleinman took the loupe from around her neck and inspected each piece, some of them two or three times. “I’m not an expert, Inspector. He was the one you should have asked. Or maybe Miss Fairfield.”

  “But your opinion?”

  She held the stones out to Mr. Kleinman, who was studying his shoes very intently in what seemed to be an effort to avoid giving an opinion. Miss Kleinman sighed and grabbed his hand to drop the stones in and put the loupe on top.

  Inspector Wainwright was still waiting for her answer. “In my less than expert opinion, there were four pieces of blue glass there and three small sapphires, all almost the same shade.”

  Inspector Wainwright looked at Mr. Kleinman. When he didn’t offer an
opinion, the inspector prompted, “Sir, do you agree?”

  Mr. Kleinman hurriedly picked up the loupe. “Yes, yes. That seems right.”

  “Very well. Constable, would you find this Miss Fairfield and send her over?”

  Constable Kittering nodded and left. Inspector Wainwright held out his hand until Mr. Kleinman put the stones back into it. Miss Kleinman plucked her loupe out of Inspector Wainwright’s hand and put it in her pocket. “There is one thing we should determine as quickly as possible.”

  Inspector Wainwright didn't look up. “No one has been in the vault?”

  “No, we didn't want to disturb the scene.”

  “Very well. You may check very carefully.”

  No one had to ask what she was checking for. Miss Kleinman pulled her skirts in close and followed Inspector Wainwright into the vault. I could feel Mr. Kleinman tense as she opened the second safe and pulled out the drawer.

  “It's gone.”

  Inspector Wainwright pulled out his notebook. “The stone was called the Heart of Night, correct? I'll need a description.”

  “Of course.” Miss Kleinman made her way back to the hallway as Inspector Wainwright examined the lock on the safe.

  “Was it insured under your new policy?”

  “Just this Saturday.”

  Inspector Wainwright scribbled something in his notebook. We didn’t have time to ask anything else before Miss Fairfield arrived. Inspector Wainwright came back to the hallway and held out the stones to her. She took them and looked at them through her own loupe, which had several filters like Mr. Tolland’s.

  “Well?” Inspector Wainwright asked.

  “These four,” she pointed to the darker pieces, “are blue glass. The others are small sapphires.”

  “Could they have been cut from the Heart of Night?”

  She shook her head. “The sapphires are the wrong color.”

  I noticed the phrasing of that.

  Apparently so had Inspector Wainwright. “And the glass?”

  “That’s the odd part. It seems to be the same color as the Heart of Night, but I can’t tell properly here, and I never really inspected the Heart of Night.”

  “Was that normal?” Inspector Wainwright asked.

  Miss Fairfield shrugged. “It didn’t need repairs, so there was no reason for me to.”

  Inspector Wainwright nodded. “That will do for now. If you would return to the lounge. And I’ll need the use of one of the offices.”

  “I’ll get mine ready,” Mr. Kleinman offered.

  Inspector Wainwright nodded and turned back to the crime scene. It was clearly a dismissal. Miss Kleinman sighed and started back towards the lounge. The rest of us followed, except Mr. Kleinman, who returned to his office.

  Miss Fairfield seemed troubled as we walked. I slowed so we both fell back a little and waited until she asked, “What do you think he was doing in there?”

  I could see she had something on her mind that wasn’t the murder. “I don’t know. What did the glass Inspector Wainwright showed us suggest to you?”

  Miss Fairfield looked thoughtful but didn’t answer until we entered the lounge. “I suppose he could have been making a copy of the Heart of Night.”

  “It does seem to fit,” Miss Kleinman said as she stared arranging the teacups that already seemed to be in place. “But why? And why kill him?”

  “Maybe the killer forced him to do it,” Miss Peters offered. She looked over at Miss Eaton. “And then he refused to give it to the thief, and the thief killed him for his honesty.”

  I hated to admit it, but it was better than any theory I had at the moment. “Could he have done it?”

  “Make a copy of it?” Miss Fairfield nodded. “He had the skill; it would just be a question of means, I think.”

  “Means?”

  “If he had the right tools, for starters.”

  I glanced into the hallway and saw that the door to Mr. Kleinman’s office was closed. I didn’t remember him ever closing it, and Inspector Wainwright would never have left it open. “Come along,” I whispered. “Let’s have another look.”

  Inspector Wainwright had already put tapes across the door to the foyer. I brought Miss Fairfield to the edge of the blocked-off area and handed her my magnifying lens with the lenses fully extended. “Just take a look at the worktable there and tell me if it looks right.”

  She scanned the table quietly. “He’d have to have gotten the glass from somewhere, of course. We don’t have the facilities for making it, and it’s not something we have lying around. To do a proper job, it would have to have been custom made to get the color and the basic size and shape right.” Then she went quiet, and I could tell she was concentrating on what she was seeing. “That’s odd. Did the police take anything from the table?”

  “Just the stones as far as I know. Unless there was something hidden behind something else.”

  “Very odd, then.” She scanned the table again. “I don’t see any tools he could have used to cut the glass or do any kind of shaping. There’s not even anything to mark where he would want to cut.”

  “So he couldn’t have been working on it at the table there?”

  “No, not as it’s set up now. If there were other tools that were taken away, of course, that would be another matter, but what I see there is too big for any proper work. I mean he’d have broken the glass if he tried to hit it with that hammer.”

  I nodded and took the lens back from her. “I’ll mention it to Inspector Wainwright.”

  She nodded with a look that said better you than me and went to re-join the others.

  I stared at the table from the door. What did that tell me? Either he wasn’t making a copy of the gem or the killer had enough time to clear away some of the tools to make it look like he wasn’t. Except they left the glass behind. Why leave the glass behind? I would have thought that was the first thing they’d clear away. Did they think we wouldn’t make the connection? And if they had time to clear away the tools, they would have had time clean up the glass.

  “Miss Pengear, you do realize that is a murder scene, don’t you?”

  I gave Inspector Wainwright my best smile. “Well, the dead body I identified there this morning did seem to indicate it, which is why I am staying on this side of the door.”

  Inspector Wainwright was not in a mood to be amused; not that he was ever in a mood to be amused. “Then you won’t mind joining the others wherever it is they’re having tea.”

  I stepped back in the direction of the lounge. “I suppose you noticed there were no tools he could have been using to make the copy on the table.”

  “And now you’re an expert in forging precious stones?”

  “No, that’s why I asked Miss Fairfield to take a look. Not that she’s an expert in forging, but she does know about crafting jewelry.” I could see the words had made it through his rather thick skull, so I smiled at him and said, “I think I’ll get some tea. Would you like some?”

  He glared at me.

  “No? All right, then.” I turned towards the lounge.

  As I entered the lounge, Miss Henderson announced, “We are officially out of tea.” She held up the empty box.

  Miss Fairfield looked over. “Well, that cannot be allowed to stand.”

  I saw a chance to investigate something that had been nagging at me. “I’ll run next door and buy some more, if you like.”

  Miss Peters fiddled with her empty cup. “That would be very kind. We don’t usually shop there, but we can make an exception.”

  “An exception?”

  “Well, they weren’t very fond of us moving in here. I think they were going to purchase the building and open their own tearoom. For the first few months we were here, they left their rubbish outside our shop, tossed boxes in our back courtyard, petty foolishness like that, so we avoid them.”

  Miss Henderson chimed in, “So if you don’t mind, don’t tell them you’re from here.”

  “Certainly not.�
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  “I’m sure Miss Kleinman will give you some money out of petty cash,” Miss Fairfield said. “Be sure to ask for it.”

  “I will. Thanks.” As I went to Miss Kleinman’s office, I wondered if the tea sellers were angry enough to sabotage their neighbor.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Once I’d collected the money from the petty cash box, I went next door. The shop was smaller than the Kleinmans’, with a long counter dividing it in half and several ladies clustered around the display of new Chinese teas. I could see how a tearoom would have increased their profits. The room smelled of brewing tea and melted butter, although I couldn’t see a kettle or anything that would have needed butter. One of the gentlemen at the counter motioned me forward. “May I help you, miss?”

  I realized I’d never bought tea in quantities like this before. “I’m purchasing tea for a small office.”

  “Of course. Did you have a particular variety in mind?”

  I thought back to what had been served. There hadn’t been much of a pattern. “What do you recommend?”

  “Well, not the afternoon blend―it’s all fannings―you might try the Darjeeling or the Earl Grey.”

  He seemed to know his stock, which I took as a sign in his favor, I supposed. “Some of both, then.”

  “How much?”

  I paused to count how much Miss Kleinman had given me and extrapolated the amount from that. The clerk went to fetch the tea and write out the receipt. As he was making change for me, I knew I had to say something before I left if I wanted to get information. “Terrible business next door.”

  “You know about that? I didn’t realize it had made the papers.”

  “I was thinking of buying something there.” I thought fast. What would be in the price range of the office worker I was pretending to be? “They have some nice mechanical pieces. But after hearing about the events there...”

  “Robbery is not a nice thing, but it must be expected in that line of trade. I wouldn’t worry too much. If their client records were secure, then no real harm done to customers, right?”