by L. A. Nisula
“So what’s the verdict?” I asked.
Kate put the glass sphere on a simple o-shaped stand on top of a black cloth. When she had our attention, she took her hammer and smashed it to bits. Among the glass fragments and powder, we could see a mid-sized brass key. As the guard rushed in at the sound of breaking glass, Kate said, “The Heart of Night had a key inside.”
Chapter 19
WHEN THE GUARD HAD BEEN SUFFICIENTLy calmed down, the three of us discussed the possibilities of the key, but we couldn’t come up with any way to know specifically what kind of key was inside the stone. Constable Kittering came back a few minutes later to tell us Inspector Wainwright would be returning. Kate gathered up the glass fragments so they could be compared to what was found near Mr. Morris while I promised Miss Kleinman I was still working to sort all of this out.
As we left, I offered Kate tea, but she was in a hurry to get back to the shop. “We’re training a new clerk and I don’t think he quite understands the entire point of chaperone-proofing things, so I don’t like to leave him too long. Miss Mason is developing a tendre for him so she won’t reprimand him, and Ada is off visiting an aunt in Sussex.” I thanked her a few more times as I helped her find a cab, then started the walk to the Underground station.
I had no idea what to make of the key. Clearly it went to something that Lady Suffolk didn’t want unlocked, but Kate had only been able to give us a rough idea of the general shape and weight and therefore the size of the key. Too small to be for a building. Possibly for a box at a bank or a safe somewhere, but I had no idea where.
But Mr. Morris might have known. I wondered if there was any connection between him and Lady Suffolk besides Miss Eaton. And that led me to wondering about Miss Eaton. Perhaps he was the one manipulating―no, she was the one with two fiancés and the elaborate lie she’d told Inspector Wainwright. So how did the mysterious Mr. Broome fit in? That was a very interesting question. I pulled out my watch. Even though Kleinman and Company closed early on Saturday, if I hurried, I should have a few minutes to speak to Mrs. O’Connell before Miss Eaton got back from the shop, provided she was at the shop, of course.
~ * ~ * ~
Mrs. O’Connell opened the front door on the first ring. “Miss Pengear, how nice to see you. Please come in. Would you like some tea? Miss Eaton isn’t home yet, but I’m expecting her any minute. She's already half-an-hour late.”
I followed her into the foyer. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time; besides, it was you I wanted to speak to. I was hoping you could describe Mr. Broome for me.”
“I can do better than that, love. You see, I know folks in the theater. I used to tread the boards myself before I inherited this place from an old auntie. But I still know people in the trade, including good old Johnny who takes the publicity pictures for the little theaters. He came for tea and a chat after you left yesterday, and as Mr. Broome showed up while he was here, I asked him to take an engagement photograph for Miss Eaton. And when they left, I asked him to make me an extra print of it, just in case it was needed.”
“And you have it?”
“Of course.” She went to the desk in the corner and took a small, thick envelope from under the blotter. “I was going to give it to the police, but then I discovered the awful man who’s been coming here to question her was in charge, and I didn’t think he’d have any idea how to use it. Pity, he’s really not bad looking if he didn’t scowl so much.”
I’d never thought of Inspector Wainwright as good looking. Inspector Burrows had a certain charm, and even average Inspector Hamilton was nice to look at when he smiled, but Inspector Wainwright? I shook that thought out of my head. “Would you mind if I borrowed the photograph?”
She held the envelope out to me. “You can have it, love. When you’ve figured out how it can help, then you can explain matters to him. Oh, and tell him Miss Eaton isn’t going to speak with him if he comes pounding on the door demanding it. He should start with paying condolences. Now that nice constable he has following her, he knows how to deal with people, but I'll let you hurry away. I can see that's what you want.”
“If only he’d listen. Thank you for this.” I tucked the envelope with the photograph into my handbag and hurried out the door.
I’d barely made it to the street when I heard, “Miss Pengear, what a surprise.”
“Miss Eaton.” The last person in the world I wanted to see while I was standing on this front step. “I was just coming to see how you were doing after your tragic loss.” Thank heavens I remembered she was pretending to be Mr. Morris’s fiancée.
“I feel much better now that I’ve spoken to Inspector Wainwright and gotten all that off of my chest. They’ve even taken Constable Edwards off of guarding me.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I noticed she was carrying a paper of fish and chips. “I’m sure you don’t want to let your food get cold.”
“Would you like to come up and have some?”
Not after what I suspected she’d done the last time she’d had guests for fish and chips. “I really have to go. I didn’t notice the time when I set out.”
“If you’re sure.”
She sounded so doubtful that I felt I had to say, “Perhaps I can call on you tomorrow?”
“I’m sorry, I have to visit my family.”
I wondered whom she was really visiting, but I managed to sound at least a little disappointed as I said, “I see.” A sudden idea struck me. “Do you need the cab? The Underground is such a crush at this hour.” I didn’t give her a chance to answer. I told the driver, “Oxford Street, please,” in case she didn’t know where I lived―the street of shops was always a likely destination―and hopped in. As we pulled away from the curb, I looked back and saw Miss Eaton watching me from the pavement.
When we were well away from the boarding house, I rapped on the roof of the cab and called to the driver. “Please take me whereever you picked her up.”
“I’m not supposed to do that sort of thing, miss.”
“She’s a suspect in a kidnapping.” I thought fast. “Then take me to Scotland Yard and wait. I’ll get the inspector in charge, and you can bring us both there.” Even if Inspector Wainwright wasn’t in, Constable Edwards or Constable Kittering would do just as well.
I felt the cab slow and the driver turned to look through the trapdoor in the roof. “You really want to go to Scotland Yard and pick up an inspector?”
“That’s right. If that’s the only way to find out where she was.”
He sighed. “Would you rather go with the inspector or on your own?”
I opted for caution. “What sort of a place is it?”
He smiled. “I’ll drop you there, but give me something with your name on it so I can tell them if they ask after you.”
“Fair enough. The inspector’s name is Wainwright. He’ll recognize me and possibly groan a bit.”
~ * ~ * ~
The cab stopped on a street in Mayfair. As I handed up the fare and one of my cards with Inspector Wainwright’s name written on the back, the driver said, “I don’t know which house she came from.”
I looked around. “That’s all right. I do.”
Once the cab had driven away, I went up the three steps to Lady Suffolk’s townhouse. It was all making sense. Miss Eaton had been her lady’s maid. The servants always knew more than their employers thought; she would have known all about the Heart of Night without being told. I gave a good sharp rap on the door, hoping I sounded enough like someone from Scotland Yard to arouse curiosity.
The same butler opened the door to me. “I’m here to see Lady Suffolk.”
“She is not receiving at this hour. If you would leave your card.”
“I am quite certain she received someone not half an hour ago on the very topic I wish to discuss. I’ll wait.”
I wasn’t surprised when Lady Suffolk came out of the shadows to slam the door in my face before the words were fully out of my mouth. I stuck my boot in the
gap, preventing her butler from completing her implied order. “If you want me to go, I will, but then the police will know all about the key.”
There was a very short hesitation, and then the door swung open again, and I was dragged inside before I could register who was doing the dragging.
“Don’t mention that outside. Walls have ears, and pavement, post boxes, anything and anyone can hear you outside.”
“Then you should have invited me in to begin with.”
“I can still throw you out.”
“But you won’t, because you want to know what I know.”
Lady Suffolk sighed. “Come into the parlor.”
Lady Suffolk led me through the first door in the hall and into a large sitting room that from the massive fireplace to the gilt everything else was clearly meant to impress. I ignored the ostentatious show of wealth and sat in one of the armchairs. I decided a show of knowledge would be my best chance to unsettle her. “Miss Eaton, your former maid, came to blackmail you with the key that was in the Heart of Night.”
It worked. Lady Suffolk started to fiddle with the fringe on her sleeve. “And if she did?”
“She got the key by kidnapping a co-worker, framing an innocent man, and then murdering him. Do you really think you can handle her on your own?”
“And what do you propose?”
“Go to the police. Help them catch her for the murder. If she’s locked away, you won’t have to worry about blackmail.” That wasn’t completely true; Miss Eaton could blackmail her from prison just as well, but I was hoping Lady Suffolk wouldn’t think of that.
“And why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m here, talking to you, not trying to get the key from her to use myself.”
“What do you know about the key?”
I smiled at her, trying to look like I knew more than I did, which was absolutely nothing beyond its presumed existence. “Why don’t you tell me about it, and then I’ll know if you can be trusted or not.”
She leaned back. “So you don’t know as much as you’d like. All right, she tried to blackmail me with it. So what?”
So much for finding out the source of the secret. “Did she have the key? Did she show it to you?”
“Yes.” Now that Lady Suffolk knew how little I knew, she wasn’t going to give me anything more.
“And the key was kept inside the Heart of Night?”
“Correct.”
“So the Heart of Night was a fake, just glass, all along.”
“Correct again.”
“Is there a real Heart of Night?”
“Not in my possession, but it was based on a stone rumored to belong to Marie Antoinette, so the deception worked.”
“Were there any small sapphires kept inside it?”
“Small sapphires?” Now she looked confused. “Eighteen small sapphires?”
“There were only three, but they were found near the body, with glass from the Heart of Night. Two cabochon-cut, one emerald-cut.”
I could see that news had thrown her. “That’s―surprising.”
I tried to think back to our other conversations. “You said her fiancé stole from you. She had told others at the shop that she was engaged to the man she later tried to frame.” Lady Suffolk didn’t answer, so I added, “I can send for the original police report on the robbery and find out all the details. Were those from the stolen bracelet?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It seems I was deceived by her more than once.”
If it had been someone else, I would have said something comforting, but I didn’t think kindness would get Lady Suffolk to help catch Miss Eaton, so I said, “And passed her off on another victim.”
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
“I will tell Inspector Wainwright you have information for him. Tell him what we have determined here, and you can help bring her to justice. I’ll show myself out.” I knew I wouldn’t get anything else from her, so a dramatic exit seemed my best option.
Outside it was starting to get dark, which was when I realized just how much time I had spent chasing across London and for how little result. At least it seemed that way.
But servants knew everything. Just because Lady Suffolk wouldn’t talk didn’t mean I couldn’t find something out here. I glanced down at the kitchen door. There was a maid sweeping the stoop I leaned over the railing and smiled at her “Did you happen to see the young woman who visited here about half an hour ago?”
“You mean Connie? She used to work here.”
“So you knew her?”
“Not well; the likes of her wouldn’t have anything to do with the likes of me.”
She clearly did not like Miss Eaton. Perfect. I leaned on the railing “Do you have time to talk?”
She looked me over “Wait a second.”
I watched her go inside. She came back carrying a small stack of letters “Housekeeper needs these taken to the aviary.”
I caught on. “That’s quite a walk. But I happen to be going that way. Of course, if we shared a cab, then you’d have time to stop for tea.”
“That’s just what I was thinking.”
We walked down the block until we were out of sight of the house, then hailed a cab and had it take us to the nearest aviary. The maid, who introduced herself as Sarah, got the letters sent off, and then we found a nice little teashop on the next block. We took a table in a quiet corner, and I ordered us a large pot of tea and scones and a selection of cakes. Sarah smiled as I kept ordering more treats. When the order had been taken, I leaned in and asked, “So you knew Miss Eaton?”
“Sure I did. Not that she spoke to me, mind. She didn’t have time for the likes of me. But I watched her.”
“Did she have a young man?”
“She flirted with Humphries, the gardener, but I wouldn't call him a young man, and I don’t think it was serious. She used to clip things out of the paper, things about flashy men in London, actresses, parties. I think that’s what she wanted. Someone glamorous.”
I wouldn’t have called Mr. Broome glamorous. Something of that must have shown in my face.
“Not looks, she wanted the whole air of it, fancy digs, fancy clothes, fancy restaurants. A way to make a scene. Wouldn’t matter how he looked if he could give her that. Dashing, that’s what she wanted, more than looks or anything. And money. She always seemed to be looking for an angle, a way to get some.”
That made more sense. Dashing was how Mrs. O’Connell had described Mr. Broome. “Would that man have to have money?”
“I don’t think so. I think she’d find a way to get it for both of them, if he was the sort she wanted and didn't mind it being a bit less than honest.”
“Do you know of anything she could be blackmailing Lady Suffolk about?”
“Blackmail? Connie would do that sure enough, but Lady Suffolk would have to do something worth blackmailing her over first. She just sits and counts her invitations and decides who she’ll honor with her presence. The ones she rejects probably dance for joy.”
We were interrupted by the arrival of the tea. I gave her a chance to enjoy it, then asked, “Is there anything else you can think of about her? About other places she worked maybe?”
“Now you see, that’s what I thought you were going to ask about. The trouble with her references.”
“Trouble?”
“Not that they saw it, she was too clever, but I have a friend who works for the Haskels, her last family before us. She told Lady Suffolk she’d been a lady’s maid to the daughters and had the references to prove it, but my friend said she weren’t nothing of the sort. She’d been a plain parlor maid, but how she got that job no one knows since she didn’t know the work. In any case, after a few months, she told the mistress that she was real friendly with the master but was feeling guilty about it even though he’d forced himself on her. The mistress bought the whole thing and felt sorry for her and wrote her the reference to get her a better post just for the asking, to g
et rid of her, you see. The thing is, my friend told me she wasn’t the one he was friendly with; that was the housekeeper. And she thought Connie did it to be nice and cover for them and backed the story up. But my friend said she was certain it was all a plan to get a better post.”
“Something to get her closer to London?”
“Exactly.”
I sipped my tea. “Did you know anything about the bracelet that was stolen?”
She shook her head then looked like she understood something. “Does it have something to do with why Humphries was sacked without warning?”
“I think so.”
“I wondered about that. He was just gone one day with no explanation, but none of us heard anything about stealing. I wish I knew more, but it would be her lady’s maid that would have known about it.”
“And that was Connie Eaton.”
“Exactly.”
“What was Humphries like?”
“A mean old git. Not actually old, just acted like it. Not her type at all, which was why I never connected him leaving to her. I thought she was making fun of him when she was flirting. He’d have been flattered, I think. No time for us lower servants, but she was a lady’s maid and pretty to boot. He’d have fallen for her lies because he wanted to.”
As we finished our tea, I tried to think of anything else to ask, and I could tell she was trying to help, but neither of us could think of anything useful. I shared a cab with Sarah back to Mayfair and dropped her off a few doors from Lady Suffolk's house. I didn’t feel up to walking the three blocks to the Underground station in the dark, and I was so busy turning the information I’d found over in my mind that I realized I probably shouldn’t trust myself to do it anyway, so I had the cab take me as far as the fish and chips shop near Paddington Street and bought myself some dinner to take to my flat.
When I’d finished my meal, I took Mrs. O’Connell’s picture out of the envelope and looked at it. Miss Eaton and her beau were standing in front of Mrs. O’Connell’s fireplace. His thin arm was draped casually around her. She was leaning on his shoulder. They had been photographed from the waist up so I had a good view of their faces. I leaned in to study his, but I didn’t recognize him from anyone I had interviewed. Thin face, no chin to speak of, darkish hair, probably brown. But there was something familiar about him. I slid the photograph back into its envelope. It would come to me.
