by L. A. Nisula
“Vandalism? I can’t imagine anyone in our shop doing such a thing, but I’m sure we can settle that. I would hate for there to be any hard feelings at all. If you’d tell the owner to come here and discuss it with us, we’ll see everything’s made right at once.”
“Excellent,” Kate said with a deceptive cheerfulness. “I am the co-owner, so we can discuss the matter right now. I’m not overly concerned about the repairs, although I do have an invoice from our builder who’s handling them, but I did want to find out exactly what happened.”
“I meant the other owners,” Mr. Reed said.
“I’m afraid Ada is busy working on the inventory today. You’ll have to deal with me. But I will make certain she is aware of all the details before I agree to anything binding. Now, as I was saying...”
I left Kate to distract Mr. Reed and tried to get a look at the scheduling book, but if there was one, it wasn’t anywhere on the desk. I looked around the rest of the shop hoping to find some clue. There was a set of shelves on the back wall, divided into a series of six-inch-square openings, each with a shaving mug in it that must have been what our mug had looked like before it had been thrown through the window, and each labeled with a name. More interestingly, four sections had name labels on the shelf but no mug. I moved close enough to read the names: Patel, Clairidge, Kincade, O’Brien. I glanced at the chairs along the side wall. Three clients waiting to be shaved. So, one mug unaccounted for.
I was trying to figure out how to determine which was missing when I heard Mr. Reed say, “Now there’s no need to get hysterical,” and Kate answering in the firm voice she used on the school children who came into the shop and fiddled with things they oughtn’t touch, “I assure you, I’m quite calm. I merely wish to speak to Mr. Purnell so we can all be clear on the situation.”
“Mr. Purnell can’t... I mean he isn’t... I mean he wouldn’t... I mean really, what do you expect from us?”
It seemed we now knew the name of at least one person involved in Inspector Wainwright’s case, although he was most likely the one who’d reported his employer missing. Still, I thought I’d better intervene before Mr. Reed started to hyperventilate. “Do you keep all of your shaving mugs there?”
Mr. Reed seemed glad of any distraction and didn’t seem to find the question odd. Or perhaps he thought we were odd enough that he wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d started asking where they kept their mome raths. “That’s correct.”
“And does anyone take theirs home with them?”
“No, of course not. Unless they bring one with them.”
So our mug had to be one of the four missing ones. “Now if I could just have a quick word with your clients here...”
“I should say not. Really, this nonsense has gone on long enough. Miss, I am sorry your little shop was damaged, but send your solicitor, and we’ll have a calm, reasonable chat about it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
“So do we,” Kate said coldly. “Here’s my card. You can expect to hear from Mr. Pennington soon. Good day.” We waited until we saw him glance at the card and note the very posh Mayfair address of the shop, then swept out before he could say anything.
Outside, we started back towards the Underground station, ignoring several cabs that slowed as we passed and dodging around a boy on the corner asking every passer-by if they had any messages to deliver. When we were far enough from the shop that no one could see us with a casual glance outside, Kate said, “Really, I wasn’t going to worry about the window since Mr. Bergman is so reasonable, but after that, I’d very much like to see Mr. Pennington have a go at him.”
“So would I.” I’d met Mr. Pennington and seen him work on one or two occasions, and if I ever had need of a solicitor, he was exactly who I would want. Mr. Reed didn’t know it, but he was definitely going to regret not dealing directly with Kate.
Kate grinned at that thought, then changed the subject. “So did we learn anything from that?”
“We did indeed.” I told her about the shelves and the cups and the names.
“So that’s why you wanted to talk to the clients. I wondered. What do we do next?”
“Bring this information to Inspector Wainwright, I suppose.”
“And he won’t tell us which is the right name. Pity. I was just beginning to feel we were getting somewhere.”
“It is.” I glanced back at the messenger boy. “Unless...” I turned and went back to the corner.
“Message to deliver, ladies?”
“No, but we do have a job for you. It pays two shillings.”
His ears perked up at once, but he merely said, “I’m listening.”
“I need you to find the names of the three clients getting a shave in the barber shop right now.”
“And why’s that?”
I decided the detective angle would work well with him, fortunate since it was truthful. “I have four names. Three belong to those clients, one needs to be reported to the police.”
“And you don’t know which is which. Is Brookson one of the names?”
An odd question, but I was sure I had asked odder ones in my time. “No.”
“Good, easy as anything. Half now, half when I give the names.”
I handed over half the agreed-upon fee and watched him run up the street and into the shop.
Kate leaned over and murmured, “How do we know they’re the correct names?”
“Why do you think I didn’t tell him what we were looking for?”
He was back in less than ten minutes, jogging up the street to us. “Kincade, Patel, and O’Brien.” He held out his hand for the rest of the money.
I counted out the coins and a bit extra for being honest. “How did you do it?”
“Told you it was easy. Went up to each of ’em and asked, then said ‘no, that’s not it.’ To make it play proper, I yelled out, ‘Anyone here named Brookson?’ after I’d finished but afore I left. Let ’em think I had a message for a Brookson, you see.”
“Very clever.” I handed over the rest of his payment.
He quickly counted the coins and grinned when he realized how much there was. “Thank you, ladies. This detective work pays well.” He waved and went back to his corner.
“Now what?” Kate asked as soon as he was out of hearing.
“Scotland Yard should know about this, and unfortunately, Inspector Wainwright seems to be our best choice there.”
Chapter 4
GETTING TO THE DETECTIVES’ FLOOR was always a bit of a process, involving long lines and explaining ourselves before we were granted access to the lift. But Constable Jackson had said to come and tell them if we thought of anything useful, so at least the wait was productive, and we eventually made it to the detectives’ floor. All of the constables there knew I knew my way around, so no one asked if we needed assistance, and there was no need to explain why we were going to Inspector Wainwright’s office and not Constable Jackson’s desk or Inspector Fulson’s office. The door was closed, so I knocked to be polite.
“Enter,” Inspector Wainwright snapped. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one he was impatient with.
When I opened the door, Inspector Wainwright looked up. He took one look at us and went back to the papers on his desk. The corners of Kate’s mouth twitched up as she tried not to laugh at our lack of welcome. I walked into the office and sat in one of the two visitor’s chairs he’d managed to squeeze into the space, and nodded for Kate to take the other. I let him stare at his papers for a few moments to remind him that I didn’t mind sitting in silence, then said, “You know we won’t go away just because you ignore us.”
“But I always hope.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. Inspector Wainwright might actually have been trying to make another joke.
Inspector Wainwright sighed and turned a page in his file.
That was the best acknowledgment we were going to get. It seemed wisest to get directly to the point and try to shock an answer out
of him. “So what is the connection between Mr. Purnell and someone named Clairidge?”
That got his attention. “What do you know about Purnell and Clairidge? Never mind, I don’t want to hear it.”
I knew I’d startled him when he actually asked for an explanation. But I had apparently also startled Lupo, who must have been sleeping behind the desk. He darted out and ran over to Kate’s chair, as she was closer, certainly no indication he liked her better. Kate picked him up and started scratching him behind the ears. “Hello, little guy. Have you solved it yet?”
Inspector Wainwright rubbed the bridge of his nose. I decided to leave him alone and turned my attention to Lupo. “I bet you’d like to know how we found that out, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you?”
Lupo wagged his tail enthusiastically, which I took as an affirmative answer although it might have meant Kate found the right spot behind his left ear.
“Well, I pieced together the logo on the shaving mug, which had the name of the shop, or part of it, and we were able to figure out the full name from there.” No reason to get Constable Jackson in trouble. I proceeded to tell Lupo all about our visit to Mr. Purnell’s barber shop and the conversation with Mr. Reed. “But I got a look at the empty spaces in the rack, and that gave me four names. And then we found out the names of the three customers, and Clairidge was the only one left. So it seems logical that Mr. Purnell took that cup for a reason.”
I’d known Inspector Wainwright was listening to the entire story with far more attention than Lupo, who was far more interested in Kate and the head rub, but he confirmed it when he grumbled, “And how did you determine that? Steal the appointment book?”
“They don’t seem to keep one, at least not out where I could see it. I paid a messenger boy two shillings to go find out the names of the men being shaved for me. It stands to reason that Mr. Purnell took that particular cup along with him to tell someone something. How else would it have wound up thrown through a window halfway across town?”
Inspector Wainwright got up from his seat and slapped a few coins on the desk in front of me. “Now they’ll all expect half-a-crown from the police.” He clipped the lead to Lupo’s collar. “Come along, you need to get your dinner.”
At the word dinner, Lupo jumped off of Kate’s lap and trotted happily behind Inspector Wainwright.
“What was that all about?” Kate asked as soon as they were gone.
“We’re trying to be nicer to each other. For Inspector Burrows’s sake.”
“Really?” Kate leaned in, ready to hear details.
But I had noticed something else. Inspector Wainwright was putting forth more effort than I’d thought. He’d left the file on his desk open, and I could see the name at the top of the sheet. Clairidge. I grabbed the papers and started reading.
It was a list of people Mr. Purnell owed money to. From what I could gather, they were loan sharks he’d borrowed from over gambling debts. Most of them had alibis, not brilliant alibis, but dinner with their wives or tickets for the music hall or a night at the pub. Mr. Clairidge was one of the ones who did not have an alibi listed by his name. Inspector Wainwright had been to his office and been told by the office manager he hadn’t been around. He’d also been to his last known address and had been informed that they did not keep track of their tenants so long as the rent was on time. He could have been away for a perfectly normal reason. Or he could have been involved in collecting some of his other debts. Or he could have been out abducting Mr. Purnell. But how to prove it?
Find him, I supposed. But that was something Inspector Wainwright would be better able to do, and loan sharks were not people I wanted to get involved with. I put the papers back in the file, trying to line them up exactly as they had been.
I paused and considered my train of thought. It was possible... I took the pen and a sheet of scratch paper from the box Inspector Wainwright kept on his desk and wrote, “Fulson’s body Clairidge?” and left the note in the middle of the file.
Kate had been watching me the entire time. When I’d finished the note, she asked, “Then we’re done here?”
“For now.”
“Good. I’d like to be gone before he gets back.”
I smiled at that, pocketed the two shillings he’d left me, and followed her out of the office.
Kate waited until we were out on the street to ask, “What did you mean by Fulson’s body Clairidge? You think that’s the connection?”
“It makes sense in an odd way. Mr. Purnell had to have enough time to grab the mug. Perhaps he wasn’t abducted. Perhaps he went to go and meet this Clairidge somewhere near the shop, maybe to say he couldn’t pay, and knew there was a chance that he wouldn’t come back, so he took the mug to be a clue. And... well, I’m not really sure where the theory goes from there, but perhaps Inspector Wainwright has some other clue that will fit.”
“Something that he hasn’t already checked?”
“He had a list of names, almost half without alibis; he may not have realized Clairidge was the one he ought to be focusing on.”
“Do you think he looked at the shaving mugs while he was there? That’s how we made the connection.”
“Doubtful, although to be fair, without the one thrown through your window, if anyone noticed a missing shaving mug among all the others, they would probably have thought it was broken in some perfectly mundane way.”
“I suppose it’s not his fault he doesn’t have a convenient shop window, and if something like that were thrown through a window at Scotland Yard, who would know what the target was? We really ought to get back and tell Ada all of this.”
I knew Ada would indeed want to hear everything, and probably have some ideas of what it all meant, so we made for the Underground station.
~ * ~ * ~
As Kate and I approached the shop, I could see Mr. Bergman was hard at work on the window. Kate hurried inside to look at the progress. “I should be able to start resetting the alarms now.” She was already going for her toolbox.
Ada came out from behind the counter. “Then Cassie and I are going to do some investigating.”
Kate made a sort of hum of acknowledgment, but she was halfway up a stepladder so I couldn’t tell if she’d heard Ada or was simply agreeing with whatever she said.
Ada already had her hat and coat on and was getting her marketing basket. She touched my arm and steered me back towards the door. “We’ll want to be away once she starts testing them,” she murmured.
“They’re that noisy, then?”
“And the neighbors get that ornery.”
We were barely out the door when the first alarm went off, and I could see Ada’s point. I also noticed something else. “Those alarms went off as soon as the window was broken.”
“Yes, that’s what they’re supposed to do. The door is on a delay, but not the windows.”
“And when the alarm went off, I doubt anyone slept through it.”
Ada smiled at that. “I can tell you for certain that no one did. At least half the block has mentioned it to us, in the politest way possible, of course.”
“So they would have been looking out of their windows?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“So whoever threw the mug had to get away as quickly as possible once he had, and couldn’t come back this way if he didn’t want to be spotted.”
“And as no one thought the broken window was a crime worth investigating, I suppose no one’s asked them what they saw.”
So she was following my line of thought. “Exactly.”
“Kate and I were saying that we ought to get our neighbors something as an apology for the whole incident. Now might be a good time to arrange it.”
And speak to most of the shop owners on the street while we were at it. “That seems like a very neighborly idea.”
“Then we’ll start at Mrs. Gillington’s. She’ll have something we can get as an apology present.”
Mrs. Gillington owned a shop just down the
street from Kate and Ada’s, which sold loose tea and imported sweets and a few cakes and specialized in gossip. It was located on a side street, so it was highly unlikely that she would have seen anything, but Ada seemed to think she was the best place to start, and I wasn’t about to argue with Ada’s knowledge of their neighborhood. While we walked, I gave Ada a quick summary of our morning. “It seems Lupo is having a positive effect on the inspector,” was all she said, but then we were already at our destination, and we certainly didn’t want Mrs. Gillington to know the whole of our conversation.
Mrs. Gillington was alone when we entered, seated behind her counter knitting something unidentifiable. She greeted us at once, then without pausing for breath said, “I heard you had a bit of trouble at your shop.”
“You and most of Mayfair, I’d wager,” Ada responded.
Mrs. Gillington leaned in for a good gossip. “Indeed.”
“So Kate and I thought we would give everyone a little packet of something as an apology. Do you have any suggestions?”
“I have some lovely scones just out of the oven. Or there is some cake, if that seems more interesting. Let me get you a morsel.” Mrs. Gillington opened her display case and started offering us samples of whatever she seemed to have the most of. While she plied us with bits of cake and biscuits, she asked, “Are the police looking into it, then?”
Ada shrugged. “Constable Polwarth took a full report, but as nothing was taken, I don’t think it will be much of a priority.”
So Ada thought it was best to let everyone on the block think it was a thwarted robbery. It was certainly less upsetting than a possible murder.
“Nothing taken? Well that’s lucky, then.” Mrs. Gillington offered us a bit of Bakewell tart.
Ada nodded. “Yes, the thief broke some panels on our window, but then the alarm went off and must have scared him off.”
