Stabbing Set with Sapphires

by L. A. Nisula

  “Did you say anything that could have upset her?”

  “I didn't say anything. I was writing down her address when she was overcome.”

  “What about Inspector Wainwright? What did he say?”

  “According to him, 'How well did you know the deceased?' A fairly standard question.”

  I had to admit he was right.

  He looked at the papers on his desk then seemed to make a decision and put all but one in a folder. “I’ll be back in a second, I just need to get a new pen.”

  I nodded and watched him leave the room, then leaned across the desk to see what he’d left out.

  It was a witness information form. The one filled out with Miss Eaton’s information, including the address of the flat where she lived. I had no doubt Inspector Burrows knew I’d look at it. So why had he wanted me to see that? To know where she lived? So I could try my luck at her away from the shop? It was the only thing I could think of.

  Inspector Burrows came back, and I leaned back in my seat. He sat down across from me and re-arranged the papers again.

  I knew I had a better chance of getting answers out of him than Inspector Wainwright, especially if he wanted my help, although even he wouldn’t give too many so I had to choose carefully. “Have you learned anything from the murder weapon?”

  He smiled in a way that told me he’d been expecting questions from me. “Nothing helpful. It was a paper knife. Miss Kleinman identified it as the one on her desk this morning. Her office door was unlocked, which apparently is not unusual.” He closed all the folders in front of him. “I think we’ve done a good enough job of making it look like you’re being questioned. You can go back out there. Probably best if you wait until I’ve spoken with everyone; then I can let you all go at once.”

  I didn’t mind that order one bit. It would give me a chance to hear what everyone thought of this new wrinkle in the investigation. But I thought I ought to say something so he wouldn’t know how eager I was to be out there listening to what everyone was saying. “All right. It’s not like I have stacks of typing waiting at home.”

  Inspector Burrows smiled. “I know perfectly well that once you get a mystery knocking about in your brain you forget all about getting any new typing clients. I also notice you didn’t protest too hard. Just make certain you tell me what you find out. And maybe let her stew for a day or two before you try anything. Something I said may sink in.”

  I nodded.

  In the lounge, Miss Fairfield and Miss Peters were still clustered around the teapot. The others seemed to have followed Miss Kleinman’s orders to return to the sales floor and stayed there.

  “So what do you think of him?” Miss Fairfield asked as she handed me a cup.

  “A nice change from Inspector Wainwright, don’t you think?” No need to tell them how well I knew him.

  Miss Peters offered me the plate of shortbread. “I thought so, but you should have seen the way Connie reacted to him.”

  Right to the point. That made it much easier for me. “I can’t believe he would have said anything to upset her.”

  “I didn’t think he seemed the type either, but you didn’t see the way she ran out of here.”

  “How was she before he called her in?”

  Miss Peters shook her head. “She seemed fine to me. That was why it was so strange. He went out of his way to be nice to me when he was questioning me about finding Mr. Morris that morning, and I made a point of telling her how much nicer he was. I feel rather bad about it now if he did do something to upset her like that.”

  “The funeral is this afternoon, maybe that’s why she’s on edge.”

  “I suppose.” But Miss Peters didn’t look convinced.

  “Where do you think she went?”

  “Home, I would think,” Miss Fairfield said.

  Before I could ask anything else, Miss Kleinman came in. “Miss Fairfield, there’s a client with a watch that needs to be looked at, and as we’re only open a half-day today―”

  Miss Fairfield put down her cup. “I’m coming, Miss Kleinman.”

  “Miss Peters?”

  “I had a cough so I came for some tea. I’m on my way back out now.”

  “Miss Pengear, I can ask the inspector if you need to stay when he’s finished with Mr. Garver.”

  “That’s all right. I can ask him when he’s done.”

  “That’s right, he was one of your references, wasn’t he? Then I’ll leave him to you.”

  “My tinkerer friend said she could come tomorrow before the shop opens, if that’s all right with you.”

  “That’s perfect. I will be so glad to get that bit of this mess over with. I’ll let Inspector Wainwright know. Perhaps I could tell Inspector Burrows to deliver the message.”

  “Inspector Wainwright is coming then?”

  “He wanted to see the results. I couldn’t very well say no when it might help solve all of this. He even oversaw the making of a plaster cast of my hand for the test.”

  “I suppose that’s good. Then he can’t say there was something wrong with it if he doesn’t like the outcome.”

  “My thoughts exactly; that’s why I agreed to it.”

  When Miss Kleinman had disappeared back into her office, I went to stand where I could see the other office door. When Mr. Garver came out, I poked my head around to tell Inspector Burrows that I thought Miss Kleinman wanted me gone. He seemed to find that amusing but didn’t object.

  Chapter 13

  I HURRIED BACK TO PADDINGTON STREET to change into something that was appropriate for a funeral then met Miss Peters outside of the teashop we’d agreed on. We both decided that actually having tea would simply put off the inevitable, so we started walking towards Mr. Morris’s house. Miss Peters and I were both dragging our feet by the time we got to the front door, but when we knocked it was opened promptly by a comfortable-looking woman in a black dress with her hair piled neatly on top of her head. She smiled slightly when she saw us.

  “Good afternoon. Thank you so much for coming.” She seemed kind but calm and detached. I identified her as someone from the funeral home. “There is some tea in the drawing room. Please help yourselves.”

  We thanked her and meandered in. Miss Peters spotted the others from the shop and went to see them. I stood by the tea-urn and scanned the room. Who seemed the most likely to talk? There were small knots of people scattered about the room, each group keeping to themselves, none of them interacting with each other. I spotted the group from the shop, Mr. Garver and Miss Henderson and Miss Fairfield, by the refreshments. A small group of men by the fireplace looked like they could belong to the same club. Another group by the window seemed to be wearing matching ties and might have been at school with him. I didn’t see anyone that seemed to be the center of the gathering.

  The woman from the door came to fill her cup from the urn. “How did you know him?”

  I realized I probably looked a bit lost. “We worked together for a little while. I’m doing some typing at the shop where he worked, so I didn’t really know him well. I did want to pay my condolences to his family, and I’m afraid I’m not quite sure who they are.” I was expecting her to point them out or say they were unwell and resting upstairs. I didn’t expect her to say,

  “That would be me. Mrs. Davidson.”

  “I am so sorry. I thought...” It seemed to make it worse if I said I thought she was an employee.

  “No need to worry. I’m his cousin and the closest he had to family. Not that we were all that close. My husband had planned to come, but business interfered at the last minute, and I wasn’t even all that put out at him if you can believe it. But someone had to come, and it was me.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, then.”

  “Thank you.”

  Then something about the whole thing struck me as odd. “So he didn’t have parents?”

  “Well at one point he did, although I suppose joking about such things at a funeral is in bad taste, isn’t
it? They passed away many years ago, while he was at school. In India, I think, or was that Uncle Milford? In any case, no, he had no close family.” One of the clubby-type men came towards us. “If you’ll excuse me, I think they want to say they’re sorry and get away from here. It was very nice to have met you, and so kind of you to come.”

  I took my teacup and went to stand in the shadow of some potted plants. If Mr. Morris had no disapproving parents, why had he and Miss Eaton kept their engagement a secret? Come to think of it, where was Miss Eaton? I scanned the room, but there was no sign of her with the group from Kleinman’s. Of course, she would probably have known his other friends and might be speaking to them. I made my way across the room, trying to look as if my only purpose was to meet up with the group from Kleinmans' but really scanning the crowd.

  “Miss Pengear, Miss Peters said you’d come.” Mr. Garver smiled at me.

  I smiled and nodded all round.

  “How nice to see you,” Miss Henderson said automatically. I suspected she was saying it to everyone while she eyed the small table of sandwiches in the corner.

  Miss Fairfield leaned in. “Do you know who we’re supposed to be talking to?”

  “That’s his cousin over there. She seems to be our hostess.”

  “Then I suppose we should go and say something, then we can leave.”

  “Before they offer us anything to eat?” Miss Henderson asked.

  “I don’t want to stay that long. I’ll buy you a sandwich down the road if free food is that important to you.”

  “No, no, I thought...”

  I tried to seem casual as I said, “I was going to offer Miss Eaton my condolences, but I haven’t seen her.”

  “Oh, she didn’t come,” Miss Henderson said.

  “Why ever not?”

  “She said it was all too new and painful for her.”

  There were several sympathetic nods. It seemed like a proper excuse, but now that I was finding things in her story to question, I wondered.

  “Let’s go say we’re sorry and get out of here,” Miss Fairfield murmured.

  The others nodded and meandered towards Mrs. Davidson. Miss Peters turned to me, but I shook my head. “I already spoke to her. Go ahead. If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave after I’ve finished my tea.”

  “Of course. I’m planning to leave with the others. Thanks for coming, though.”

  I took my tea back to the shadows of the plant and sipped it slowly while I watched the room. It would have helped if I’d known what I was looking for. Something out of place was the best I could do. But everyone in the room seemed to be acting normally. People stayed in their little groups; occasionally someone new would join them, or a small bunch would break off from the larger group and make their way over to Mrs. Davidson. There would be a few words exchanged, then, duty done, the little bunch would meander for a few minutes then head for the door. I tried to watch the groups when they weren’t near Mrs. Davidson, but it all seemed to be the same sort of slightly nervous chatter. I saw the group from Kleinmans' break into smaller groups, pay their respects to Mrs. Davidson, then meet up again by the door. I refilled my teacup from the urn. I decided to stay until I finished the cup then give up for the day.

  I’d finished half the cup when I saw Mr. and Miss Kleinman arrive. They scanned the room, and I could tell the moment Miss Kleinman spotted me. She caught her brother’s arm and steered him towards me.

  “Miss Pengear, how nice to see you.”

  I put my cup down on the table. “And you, Miss Kleinman, Mr. Kleinman. I’m afraid you missed the others from the store.”

  “Good, good,” Mr. Kleinman said as he scanned the room.

  “We didn’t want to make them uncomfortable by being here when they were,” Miss Kleinman explained.

  “So where’s the family?” Mr. Kleinman asked. “I’d like to get this over―I mean, I’d hate to impose for too long.”

  I smiled at Miss Kleinman as she jabbed her brother in the ribs. “That’s Mrs. Davidson, his cousin. It seems she’s it.”

  “Oh, I was under the impression there were disapproving parents. Oh well. Come along, brother dear, and try not to say anything else foolish. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Miss Pengear.”

  I watched as Miss Kleinman dragged her brother over to Mrs. Davidson. They exchanged a few words, and Mr. Kleinman seemed to be in good form. Then they meandered towards the door. There didn’t seem to be anything to be gained by hanging around, so I put down my teacup again and started my own wander towards the door.

  “Miss Pengear?” I stopped as Mrs. Davidson caught up with me near the coat rack. “I’m sorry to bother you as you were escaping, but you said you knew my cousin at the shop where he worked? I’ve been asked several odd questions by the other employees, and I was wondering if you could clear something up. I didn’t like to ask since I didn’t know who he was close to there, but you implied you hadn’t been there long?”

  “That’s right. Just a week or so. But I’m afraid I didn’t see him very often. I’ve been typing.”

  “Oh dear, then you were the one that―”

  “Found him?” It seemed the most delicate way to put it. “Yes, that was me, or I was in the group.”

  She seemed hesitant then, so I tried to reassure her. “I’m not sure I’d be much help, but I’d like to try.”

  “It’s just that I’ve been asked twice how his fiancée was doing, and I had no idea he had one. It was by people from the shop, so I thought...”

  “It was one of the girls at the shop, yes. Miss Eaton.”

  “Oh dear, I said we weren’t close, but I really had no idea. If I’d known, I would have invited her. I hope she doesn’t think...”

  “She knew it was today. She had told her friend she was too upset to come.”

  “Perhaps I should pay a call on her. I’m sure she’d like some of his things around her now. It will all go to me unless he changed his will, but I would certainly think she was entitled to at least a portion of the estate. I’ll have to take it up with our solicitor. That’s probably best. He’ll know what we should do to be fair on all sides. Oh dear. You don’t know her address, do you? I suppose not. I’ll have to ask that policeman. I wonder if it has to be today. I don’t know if I can face him today.”

  “They would have her address at the shop.”

  “Of course. I’ll pay a call on Miss Kleinman and ask her. She’s so much easier to talk to than that Inspector Wainwright, I think it is. Yes, I can tell by your expression I’m not the only one who finds him a bit...difficult. But you’d think he would have mentioned the fiancée. Well, I won’t delay your escape any longer. Thank you so much for coming.”

  As I made my way to the Underground, I considered what Mrs. Davidson had said. It was odd that Inspector Wainwright hadn’t mentioned Miss Eaton to get the family’s views on her at least.

  Mr. Morris’s memorial made me want to investigate his death and even more so Miss Crawford’s disappearance, but I was at a loss for what to do. I went back to my flat, intending to review everything I had been told so far over a nice cup of Earl Grey and some almond cake Mrs. Albright had made. But I had barely gotten my tea ready when I heard an unfamiliar knocking at my door. I kept the kettle with me―boiling water was as good as anything in an emergency―and went to see who it was.

  I opened the door and found a constable I didn’t recognize holding up his warrant card. “Good afternoon?”

  “Miss Cassandra Pengear?”

  He didn’t look like he wanted to arrest me. “Yes?”

  “And is this your card?” He held out a small rectangle printed with my name, “Typist” centered under it, and an engraving of a typewriter beside both.

  “Yes?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like you to accompany me to the hospital. A young woman was brought in, and this was the only identification we found on her. We were hoping you could provide us with a name.”

  It sounded legitim
ate, and he was acting like a policeman would, but after the events of the last week, it didn’t hurt to be cautious. “I’m at a critical place in my work. Which hospital is it?”

  “Saint Bart’s.”

  “Then if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll finish up and go down there myself. I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes here. Whom should I ask for?”

  “Just give your name. They’ll send you to the correct room. Thank you for your assistance.” He tipped his hat and left.

  I went to the window and watched the constable walk down the street until his custodian helmet was lost in the crowd. When I was sure he wasn’t watching the building, I grabbed a notepad and my hardest pencil and scribbled a note to Mrs. Albright telling her where I’d gone and why. I ripped it from the pad, careful to leave a bit of the corner of the page attached to the notepad, and leaned the note against the teapot. Then I laid the pencil across the notepad. The constable hadn’t sent up a card, so he must have rung Mrs. Albright’s flat and been let in. That meant she would have seen him and could provide a description, if needed. If I didn’t come back, she would know to call one of the inspectors at Scotland Yard who knew me, and between them they would either find the note, or see that the notepad had been used recently and find the imprint of the note on the next sheet and probably the one after if I’d pressed as hard as I’d meant to. It didn’t hurt to be careful.