Mugs, Murder, and Mayfair

by L. A. Nisula

  “When did he disappear?”

  “The night before last.”

  A very busy night, it seemed. “From his shop?”

  “No one knows. He was reported missing by the assistant manager when he didn’t arrive to open the shop yesterday.” Inspector Wainwright spotted the latch that was halfway down and slightly to the left of the middle of the door and flipped it to let himself out.

  I followed. “The mug was thrown through the window on Tuesday night.”

  “I assume I can get the full report from Constable Polwarth.” Inspector Wainwright started walking briskly down the street in the direction he and Lupo had come from.

  I followed. It seemed a rather obvious question, but I felt I had to at least try to point out the possibility. “So have you determined if your missing person and Inspector Fulson’s body are the same?”

  “He doesn’t think so.”

  That was an odd answer, and one Inspector Wainwright didn’t sound particularly pleased with. “So you’re not confident that it isn’t? Any particular reason?”

  “I never trust anyone else’s observations over my own.”

  “You mean he didn’t let you see the body?”

  Inspector Wainwright didn’t answer, but Lupo pressed against his leg companionably. The dog seemed to be able to interpret his mood better than I could.

  I snorted at Inspector Fulson’s lack of sense. I could understand wanting to spend as little time as possible in Inspector Wainwright’s company, but that did not excuse shoddy police work. I spotted Constable Jackson by the corner, waiting for Inspector Fulson to finish inside the shops across the street. “Come along.” I started across to him.

  Inspector Wainwright looked as if he were going to ignore my order, but Lupo was an obedient dog and trotted off behind me, dragging Inspector Wainwright along.

  Constable Jackson smiled when he saw me, gave Inspector Wainwright a wary look, and bent down to pet Lupo. “How are you, Lupo, old fellow? Solved the case already? Did you remember something, Miss Pengear?”

  “Possibly. I was hoping to have another look at your sketch of the victim.”

  Constable Jackson pulled out the sketch from his pocket and held it so both Inspector Wainwright and I could see it, telling me he knew exactly why I had asked for it. Inspector Wainwright spent a few moments studying it intently, then turned and walked away with Lupo bouncing along behind him.

  Constable Jackson grinned. “Didn’t jog your memory, then?”

  I smiled back. “No, no, but I was hoping. Thank you, though. You know Lupo?”

  “One of the best dogs we have. He found a missing boy just last week from a blanket left behind. If there’s something to find, I’d trust him with it.”

  “That’s good to know. Come by the shop if you want some tea.” I didn’t mention gossip about the case, but I assumed that was implied. Besides, I needed to hurry to catch up to Inspector Wainwright.

  I found him back on the street not far from the shop watching Lupo sniff around. “So that wasn’t your missing person?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “I suppose ruling it out is something, at least. Are you two looking for something here?”

  He didn’t answer, so I tried to think of what they might be interested in. “Whoever threw the mug through the window passed the front of the shop.”

  “I’ll be sure to let Lupo know.”

  It was possible that meant he was going to look into it. “I think he heard me, didn’t you, sweetie?”

  Lupo wagged his tail and looked up at Inspector Wainwright, clearly expecting something. Inspector Wainwright’s hand drifted to his pocket, then pulled away. I realized he didn’t want to be seen giving Lupo a treat for no real reason. Clearly, Lupo was having a good influence on him. I turned to the window and started pointing out the broken panes, completely unnecessarily as they were covered with copper and therefore very obvious. When I turned back, Lupo was wagging his tail lazily, so I assumed he’d gotten something good.

  I was still thinking of something more to ask Inspector Wainwright when I heard the exceptionally irritated voice of Inspector Fulson from halfway down the street. “Why are you still here, Wainwright? I thought I answered all your questions on my case.”

  “I still have a case of my own to investigate.”

  “A case? Oh, your missing barber.” Inspector Fulson said it as if it were a minor matter, not something to be bothering his murder case with.

  “Yes, the missing barber, a Mr. Purnell.” Inspector Wainwright was doing a good job of pretending he hadn’t noticed Inspector Fulson’s dismissal of his case.

  Inspector Fulson kept trying to get the upper hand. “And you should be where working on that?”

  “Right here, as a matter of fact. I have several promising leads in the area. And as you bring it up, I did have a few more questions on how our cases might be related.”

  “What connection do you have between the case and this area?”

  “The dog followed the scent here, and the mug which broke this window appears to be one from the victim’s shop.”

  “But he had no connection to the area?”

  “I have not finished my investigation of that point, and then there is the possibility that the abductor is connected to the area, not the victim.”

  “So a dog and a mug that’s shattered and missing half the pieces.”

  “I doubt any important pieces are missing.” Was it my imagination, or was Inspector Wainwright assuming that we had done a proper job of collecting the evidence? “And Lupo is the best dog in the kennel.”

  Lupo wagged his tail at that, which made Inspector Fulson glare again.

  “I don’t see any connections between the cases. If one arises, I will let you know.”

  Inspector Wainwright ignored the dismissal. “As will I. What does the timeline look like?”

  “What?”

  “The timeline. How does the broken window fit in the timeline with your dead body?”

  “It doesn’t.” Inspector Fulson turned and walked away.

  Lupo gave a sniff of irritation at his retreating figure. Inspector Wainwright appeared very interested in getting Lupo’s leash untwisted until Inspector Fulson turned the corner. “Come along, Lupo. We’d better get you back for dinner.”

  Lupo heard dinner and perked up at once. Inspector Wainwright started back towards the Underground station, in the opposite direction from where Inspector Fulson had gone. I watched them leave, then started back to the shop.

  I was a bit surprised by Inspector Fulson’s response. Certainly, I didn’t get along with Inspector Wainwright, and most of Scotland Yard disliked him to one degree or another. Only Inspector Burrows seemed to be friendly with him, and now apparently Lupo, but I’d never met anyone who didn’t acknowledge Inspector Wainwright’s talent as an investigator. He was thorough, objective, logical, and quite willing to follow a clue wherever it led, even if he complained the entire time, as he frequently did when the clue led anywhere in my direction. So I had never known a police inspector to disregard his information without at least hearing it out. They might try to send their constables to communicate with him whenever possible or slip files under his office door when he was out, but they didn’t ignore him. Not like Inspector Fulson was doing. It was unprofessional, illogical, and it meant that I couldn’t comfortably say that the two cases weren’t related, not the way I could if I knew the connections had been looked for and ruled out.

  Chapter 3

  WHEN I GOT BACK TO THE SHOP, Ada was at her desk logging the morning’s work. Kate had taken the opportunity to stop counting and fix some tea. “How did it go?”

  “Inspector Fulson isn’t showing anything to Inspector Wainwright, so I don’t know that it went particularly well.”

  Kate handed me a cup as I gave them all the details of my conversations that morning. When I’d finished, Kate asked, “So the mug and the murder could be connected?”

  “I don�
��t know. I would feel better about the whole thing if Inspector Wainwright was able to look into it properly.”

  “Well, let’s think about this. We have a dead body and a missing barber. The question is, how are they connected?”

  Ada stabbed her pen into the inkwell and accepted the cup of tea Kate brought over. “It seems the first question should be is it even possible for them to be connected?”

  Kate looked up from the teapot. “Well, they ought to be. Really, what are the chances of a kidnapped barber being dragged past our shop on the same night that a corpse was left down the way? Perhaps in Whitechapel, but in Mayfair?”

  Ada sighed. “I know how much detectives hate coincidences, but if that’s what this is, then all you two are doing is putting poor Constable Jackson between the two inspectors.”

  “And he doesn’t deserve that.” I took a sip of my tea. “Still, two crimes meeting right outside your shop, and in Mayfair. I’d almost believe Inspector Wainwright is right when he says I attract his strange cases.”

  “Maybe they both have other connections to the area, and that’s why they were both here,” Ada offered. “There are plenty of shops around here where they could have had other business. Or they could both know people in the area.”

  I saw the problem at once. “Then why didn’t Inspector Wainwright or Inspector Fulson find those connections when they were going around asking about the two men?”

  Kate put down her empty cup. “Maybe they weren’t looking hard enough? I wonder if he’s asked at the missing barber’s shop. Pity we don’t know where it is.” Kate pushed back her chair. “What did you say Constable Jackson was looking for?”

  “Wells for his brother.”

  Kate went to the shelf and pulled four books down without looking at them—not that looking at them would help, as they kept all of the books in the shop in pastel paper covers to hide the titles in another effort to make it easier for their main clients—young ladies with rich, stuffy papas—to purchase what they liked while still looking respectable. It also allowed them to charge a premium, and I suspected Kate liked knowing that she was making the rich gentlemen pay in some cases double what they would have if they simply allowed their daughters to buy Advanced Steam Methods or Theoretical Annulus Placement at one of the other tinkering shops scattered around town. It was also why I’d left the inventorying of books to Kate. She had them arranged and labeled in some manner only she knew, but she did know where every single book she’d shelved was.

  “I think we’ll give him the uncovered discount, don’t you?”

  Ada didn’t look up from her tea. “I doubt his brother wants his books with pink paper covers. The lilac perhaps, but not the pink.”

  Kate pulled down several more books, put most back, and came to the table with five for further consideration. “If Wainwright and Fulson aren’t going to look into the connections, where do you think we should start?”

  Ada turned towards me, clearly assuming the question was directed at me.

  I wasn’t quite certain who Kate thought ought to be asking what, but I realized we might be able to find the shop. “There was something printed on the cup. I wrote it down after I had as much of it as I could assembled. It might be possible to figure out the shop name from that. And as Inspector Wainwright took the cup, it must be related to his case. And that means it would be logical that it would be from the missing barber’s shop.”

  Kate nodded and collected up the books she’d finished with. “And then we could go there and see if there’s anything to connect the two crimes. That’s perfect.” She put two of the books behind the counter and re-shelved the rest, then returned to take another biscuit.

  While Kate re-filled everyone’s teacup, I got out my notes on the mug and we set about trying to figure out the name of the shop. There wasn’t much to go on. We quickly discovered that the bit of the name I had put together was not the beginning of the shop name, as there was no listing for anything like it in the Guide to London Businesses. We were deciding how to go about dividing up the rest of the names of barber shops in the book to see if the bit we had was any part of a name when there was a knock at the door. Kate got up to answer it and brought Constable Jackson over to our table.

  “I’m sorry, ladies. I didn’t mean to disturb your meal.”

  “You weren’t,” Ada said as she fixed him a cup. “We were just considering how to go about figuring something out.”

  He accepted the tea without hesitation, which told me he was off duty at last. “I came to see if Miss Ferris had found any books for my brother. Did Miss Pengear mention it?”

  “She did, and I think I’ve found just the thing.”

  While Kate went to get the books, Constable Jackson accepted our invitation to sit down and have some scones. While he was looking at the jams Ada had set out, he noticed the paper I’d been taking notes on. “Looking for the Peerless Gentleman’s Barber and Grooming Shop, are you?”

  We all looked over at him.

  He grinned. “Inspector Wainwright mentioned it when he was asking about Inspector Fulson’s body this morning. I may have overheard some of their conversation.”

  “Odd name for a shop,” Kate said from the shelves. “I would think it would be a subtle reminder to the gentleman they weren’t peers of the realm, which is probably not something that sort would want to be reminded of.”

  Constable Jackson laughed at that. “Unless he was hoping the mention of peers would put them in mind of it?”

  “What exactly did Inspector Wainwright say?” I asked.

  “Only that he thought the man had been taken from his place of employment, the Peerless Gentleman’s Barber and Grooming Shop. He didn’t mention the victim’s name or anything, and I had to go watch the crime scene before I could hear anything else useful, but I did see Inspector Wainwright show Inspector Fulson his sketch, although Inspector Fulson didn’t show him ours of the body.”

  “That seems strange to me.”

  “I thought so as well, but neither of them seemed likely to give me an explanation, and Lupo had other things on his mind.”

  Kate handed over the books she’d found. “Do you think the cases are connected?”

  “They could be, although how I don’t know. It does seem to be quite a coincidence.”

  “Where is the shop?” I asked as he flipped through the books Kate brought over.

  “Westminster, but I don’t have an exact address. I’ll take both of these.”

  But we didn’t need an exact address. As Kate and Constable Jackson finalized his purchases, I picked up the directory. Now that we had the full shop name, it was easy enough to find the address, and as the only shop in the directory with that name was indeed in Westminster, it seemed we’d found the source of our shaving mug.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  After a good night’s sleep, the idea of tracking down a shaving mug that may or may not connect the two cases happening outside Kate and Ada’s door seemed less interesting, particularly as I was certain it would mean more time spent with either Inspector Wainwright or Inspector Fulson, and neither was inclined to tell me how their case ended if I wasn’t on the scene when it happened. But when I went down to breakfast, Kate was as enthusiastic about it as before. “What time do you think a barber shop opens, Cassie?”

  “I was thinking about that. As there’s still so much work to be done on the inventory, and it really isn’t a case...”

  “The inventory will get along just fine, and I would like to know why our shop window was smashed.”

  Ada put a plate of freshly toasted muffins between us. “Cassie, you know neither of you will be any use until you have some answers.”

  I realized she was probably right. “I suppose it would be safe enough to go mid-morning.”

  “Excellent. That will give us plenty of time to get a start on the racks of cutting tools, and Ada can write it all up while we’re gone.”

  Ada seemed to think it was a good idea, so I didn’t o
bject. Besides, it would be comforting to know the murder had nothing to do with us.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The Peerless Gentlemen’s Barber and Grooming Shop proved easy enough to find, located on a side street, with an understated sign above the door and a large, etched glass window out front. Now that we were standing outside of it, I realized I had no idea how to go about getting any information from the shop, or even what would help us decide if the mug was related to either of the cases. And further complicating matters, a barber shop was not the normal sort of place for a pair of ladies to turn up. “We’ll need a reason to be here.”

  Kate was unbothered by that. “I thought we’d go with a variation of the truth. My shop was vandalized by a mug from their shop, so I’ll ask to speak to the manager to find out what happened. While I’m doing that, you look for clues.”

  It wasn’t a bad plan, and it was certainly better than anything I had, so I nodded, and we went in.

  The shop was busy but not crowded, with several stylists in white coats moving around and most of the barber chairs filled. Everyone turned to look at us when we entered, which seemed a bit excessive, and dangerous for the three sitting with shaving cream on their chins waiting to be shaved, unless they knew the assistant was still preparing his razors by the mirror. The only man walking around without a white coat came over quickly, snapping orders at the others as he did. “Carry on, carry on. I’ll deal with this. Ladies, were you looking for someone?”

  Kate answered at once in her most governess-like tones, which I suspected she’d learned from Ada. “The owner, please.”

  “If someone had a problem with their cut or shave, I’m certain I can be of assistance. Mr. Reed, Assistant Manager.”

  “No, this wasn’t a customer matter. Tuesday night, one of the shaving mugs from your shop was thrown through our shop window. I wanted to find out how that was allowed to occur and see that it doesn’t again.”