by L. A. Nisula
The note was a more complicated task than it sounded. I didn’t want to spend too much on the mechanical bird to deliver it, but mechanical birds went directly to the detectives’ floor while a cheaper messenger boy would have to hand the note in at the front desk, and I didn’t want to make Inspector Burrows play messenger for us too often, so that meant I had to fit all of our new information on as small a piece of paper as possible. That meant making my letters as tiny as possible while still being readable—a task my typewriter would have made much easier—and being as concise as possible. I managed to do a fair job of it, mainly by abbreviating everything I could. I was fairly certain Inspector Wainwright would be able to figure out what I meant, and if not, he could always go and ask Inspector Burrows to interpret for him, which wouldn’t be the worst thing for either of them. I gave the ink a moment to dry, then carefully re-read what we had found out.
As I was reading our theory on the list of names being other blackmail victims, I thought back to what Ada had said. The only reason to kidnap someone was to get something for their return. And the only thing Mr. Purnell had was his blackmail materials. But how would someone know he was a blackmailer if they weren’t being blackmailed themselves? That was the problem. The only reason we knew about it was that Mr. Frankes had mentioned it, but he clearly didn’t care for Mr. Clairidge, and besides, once Mr. Clairidge was dead, there wasn’t much point to keeping his secrets secret.
I paused. Mr. Clairidge had sounded as if he didn’t confide in Mr. Frankes, didn’t really trust him, so why would he have told him about blackmail? Why tell anyone about blackmail? But if he hadn’t told Mr. Frankes, how had Mr. Frankes known he was going to meet his blackmailer? More importantly, could someone else have found out the same way, or was it possible Mr. Frankes had seen an opportunity to get out from under an employer he disliked and get a bit of income at the same time? And how could I find out the answer? If it was the former, it should be simple enough, I could simply ask him. If the latter, I supposed asking him would let me see his reaction, at least. That could give me some clue as to what had happened. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was better than anything else I had.
“You’re looking thoughtful,” Kate said as she passed. As she was paying attention to something other than her alarms, I assumed Mr. Bergman had managed to successfully install everything.
“I was just checking the note I’m sending to Inspector Wainwright. Would you like to read it?” I hoped that would stop her from asking more before I’d decided if that was something I wanted to investigate.
But Kate knew me too well. She held out her hand, and as soon as I’d put the note in it, she asked, “And what part of it got you thinking about something in the case? Was it something that might clear me?”
I couldn’t very well refuse to tell her when she asked it like that. “It occurred to me the only thing we know of that Mr. Purnell had that was worth kidnapping him for was his blackmail materials.”
“That makes sense,” Kate said without looking up from the note.
“The only problem is, how would someone know he was a blackmailer if they weren’t being blackmailed?”
“That is a problem. How did we know? Inspector Wainwright...no it was Mr. Frankes, wasn’t it? He told us about Mr. Clairidge. I wonder how he found out. I would think it would be in the blackmailer’s best interests to keep something like that quiet, wouldn’t you? We ought to go and ask him.” She glanced at the wall of clocks behind the counter. “It isn’t that late. We’d have time to get there on the Underground before they closed.”
I considered saying we didn’t know if the office would be open on Saturday, but I was certain she had seen the same sign in the window I had, the one that said they were open for appointments from noon until four. “I suppose we could try.”
When Kate and I arrived at Piccadilly, we could see that the office was indeed open, or at least staffed. The door was locked, but when we knocked, Mr. Frankes answered promptly, as if he were expecting clients, then hesitated when he saw us. “I’m afraid we’re not taking... Oh, it’s Miss Ferris and Miss Pengear, isn’t it? Have the police found something? They haven’t been very good at keeping us informed.” He stepped aside so we could enter. “I’m afraid the place is in a bit of chaos. We’re waiting on Mr. Clairidge’s solicitor to come and look for the will and tell us how the business is to proceed. We can’t take any new clients or do much with the old ones until we know that. He’s supposed to be here this afternoon.”
That explained why he’d been so quick to answer our knock.
“But I don’t think you came here to meet with our solicitor.”
I doubted the solicitor would tell us anything, but I was still wondering if there was anything we ought to ask on the off chance he might when Kate went directly to the point. “We wanted to know how you knew Mr. Clairidge was being blackmailed.”
That caught Mr. Frankes off-guard. He didn’t seem to know how to respond to such a direct question, so he turned to me, apparently hoping I would explain what didn’t seem to be that strange of a question considering what we’d spoken of on our last visit.
“We were wondering,” I explained quickly, “because we were hoping to find some of the other victims, perhaps form an idea of the blackmailer, and as you don’t seem to have been on particularly...” I struggled for the right word. The best I could do was, “intimate terms with him, we thought it might provide a clue.”
“I see. I’m afraid I won’t be any help at all. He didn’t confide in me. Part of my work here is to open the letters that arrive and sort them before handing anything important off to Mr. Hanson. One of the demands came through the regular post. Even though it was very carefully worded, I could see what it was. I’m afraid it turned into a bit of a mess, though. I thought, seeing as it was quite personal, I’d bring it straight through to Mr. Clairidge myself, the idea being the fewer eyes on it, you see. And Mr. Hanson made such a fuss about my doing that that Mr. Clairidge had to come see what the fuss was and, well, if I weren’t already planning to leave, that would have done it.”
“A fuss?” I asked.
“Mr. Hanson saw me bringing the letter into Mr. Clairidge’s office and came to tell me in no uncertain terms that he was the one who was to determine which letters went directly to Mr. Clairidge and which were handled elsewhere. I told him I thought Mr. Clairidge would appreciate seeing that particular one immediately, as it was personal in nature, and he proceeded to lecture me on the limits of my position. That was what Mr. Clairidge heard. He came out to see what had happened and agreed with Mr. Hanson on what constituted overstepping my bounds, so I handed the note over to Mr. Hanson and walked away, but of course, my desk is close enough to see what happened. Mr. Hanson stared at the letter, then at Mr. Clairidge, then back at the letter over and over until Mr. Clairidge became impatient and took the letter out of his hands. He read it, went pale, and stormed back into his office. It was never spoken of again, and no one ever apologized to me.”
They all sounded very much like what I expected from an office like this one. “Could you tell what he was being blackmailed about? Not for spurious reasons, I assure you, but we were hoping to find out how the blackmailer obtained his information.”
Mr. Frankes smiled. “Doesn’t matter to me either way, but I’m afraid I can’t. It wasn’t in the letter.”
“But you knew it was blackmail?”
“The letter said he was to ‘settle up or everyone will know your secret.’ If that’s not blackmail, then I don’t know what is.”
I nodded. That did sound like a blackmail threat, but perhaps there was another possibility we weren’t thinking of. “And he didn’t say anything about what it was?”
“No, he didn’t trust me with anything like that. He simply went into his office, and it was never spoken of again. He didn’t even tell us not to speak of it; it was simply assumed. I don’t think he would have told Mr. Hanson either. Mr. Hanson stayed out of his office fo
r the whole morning that day. I think he realized that I had been in the right on that particular decision and didn’t want to admit it to anyone.”
“Then how did you know he was going to meet his blackmailer?”
“Logic. He received another letter with the same handwriting that afternoon, only he passed my desk as I was sorting the post and grabbed it before I had to decide what to do about it and closed himself away in his office. He only came out once, and that was to tell me to cancel his dinner engagement. As it was a meeting with some important clients, I knew something had come up. And the only thing it could have been was the blackmail note. I mentioned it to the police, but I think I was too vague, and as I didn’t really know what was going on, it was hard to be more specific.”
“And you don’t know of any secret Mr. Clairidge might be desperate enough to keep hidden?”
Mr. Frankes shook his head. “I knew of some petty matters, like the article there, and he was certainly the type to hide things, but no, I don’t know of anything specific that he could have been blackmailed over.”
“And no place he frequents where it might have been found out?”
Mr. Frankes shook his head again. “But I wouldn’t think it would be the sort of place where you would know that you were being spied on, or why would you go there?”
“True.” I considered the matter. The most logical place for Mr. Purnell to have obtained his material was the barber shop. “Was Mr. Clairidge a gregarious person?”
“Yes. He would speak to anyone, anywhere. You’re wondering how hard it would be to get him to admit something. He was too crafty to let something dangerous to himself slip out in conversation, but he might have said something that would lead someone to something dangerous to him if he were asked correctly.”
“You mean to a waiter or while having his hair cut, something like that?”
“Yes, if the right sort of question were asked.”
“Any idea what those questions would be?”
“I’m afraid not.”
That had been quite a bit to hope for. “Is there anyone else in town who might know something about him? Perhaps someone who doesn’t know there’s an active investigation into him or wouldn’t have gone to the police?”
“I doubt it. He lives alone. I haven’t heard of him having any relations here. There are some cousins in Yorkshire, but I only know about them because his uncle died and he was required to attend the funeral. He did not seem to be upset enough for it to have been a close uncle.”
“Would he have contacted them about it, if he needed money to pay the blackmail perhaps?”
“I wouldn’t think so. I wouldn’t think there’d be any money to be asked for. One of the cousins was in the church because I remember Mr. Clairidge thought it was wrong for him to be doing the service for his father, although why I don’t know. I think I remember him saying the uncle was a solicitor, but I’m not certain. Mr. Hanson, do you remember anything about Mr. Clairidge’s uncle? The one who died?”
Mr. Hanson was walking from Mr. Clairidge’s office to the tray of outgoing mail. He didn’t stop when Mr. Frankes addressed him. “I didn’t remember he had one. I can’t see how it’s relevant.” The last was said with a glare that I took to indicate relevant really meant any of their business. Either way, it seemed another dead end.
Mr. Frankes waited until Mr. Hanson had left, then shrugged helplessly. I certainly didn’t want to get him in trouble with Mr. Hanson, particularly as he might still need a recommendation from him for a new position, so I thought it best to bring the visit to a close. “Thank you for all your help.”
“I wish it could have been more. We’ll be closing the office up at the end of next week unless the solicitor tells us otherwise, so if you need anything after that, I’m afraid I don’t know where to send you.”
“Then we’ll try to think of everything before that. Thank you.”
~ * ~ * ~
“Well, what do you make of that?” Kate asked as we made our way to the Underground station.
“Mr. Purnell was very careful in his notes, so he must have already proven to Mr. Clairidge that he had something worth blackmailing him for. I wonder if it was in the first note, whenever that was, or if he told him in person.”
Kate pulled out her Underground map. “If it was done in person on a regular basis, then there’s no way Mr. Clairidge was mistaken for the blackmailer by his killer; they all would have known who it really was.”
I nodded. “And as they all already knew Mr. Purnell, they would certainly recognize him. I wonder if sending the note to the office was a way of escalating the threat, implying that Mr. Purnell could reveal information to the office if he wished, or if that was an unintended side effect. Surely Mr. Frankes would have seen any others that had been sent there unless they were incredibly subtle.”
Kate sighed. “It didn’t do much to help my case though, did it?”
“It might. We’ll send another note to Inspector Wainwright. And we did send what we found before to him. Perhaps he’ll have some brilliant idea and sort the whole thing out.”
“Wonderful. I’m depending on brilliant ideas from Inspector Wainwright.”
“All right, perhaps Lupo will have a brilliant idea and sort the whole thing out.”
At least it made Kate laugh as she returned to her map. “That does seem more likely.”
Chapter 8
WE SPENT THE NEXT DAY TRYING TO CATCH UP on the inventory. It was quite obvious we wouldn’t get it finished before the shop was scheduled to open again, so Ada worked her way through the displays of embroidery patterns and baskets of knitting needles in the front of the store while Kate and I tackled the bins of loose gears and sprockets, all of which would be difficult for them to count with customers in the store. I started helping Kate go through a bin of copper nuts and bolts, but as she spent more time staring into space than actually counting anything, it quickly became obvious that I was doing more than she was, so I switched to the drawers of boxed gears so I could pretend I hadn’t noticed how distracted she was. Ada very noticeably did not ask how we were doing when she passed by and eventually suggested that Kate ought to take a look at the alarm system, “To be certain none of the patrons set it off by mistake when we reopen.”
“Miss Hillbourne did not set it off by mistake. She was trying to determine how I had connected it to the window frame.” But Kate did go to check on the wires, and as Ada spent a bit less time watching her while she was doing it, I took that to mean the distraction would keep Kate from brooding overly much on the thought of arrest. It also meant I could concentrate on what I was counting and work quickly without worrying that I was making her feel she wasn’t doing anything.
When Kate had set off the alarms accidentally for the second time, which more than anything told me she was still worrying over the case, Ada came over to murmur, “I know Kate was hinting for you to stay and help finish, but you don’t need to feel obligated.”
“If you need the help, I don’t mind.” I nodded towards Kate and let her take that how she wished.
Ada shook her head. “The inventory won’t be finished before we open no matter what, and I’m sure you’d rather be back in your own flat. Besides, you’re accustomed to considering cases there. Perhaps you’ll come up with something they’ve missed. That would do more than anything else to sort this all out.”
“If you’re certain you don’t need my help here.”
“Julia will be back tomorrow, and we don’t reopen until Wednesday. If we can get the bits that are in the middle of the sales floor done, we can count the rest between customers.”
I was quietly relieved. I knew Ada would do a far better job of putting Kate’s mind at ease than I could, and while I didn’t want to tell Kate not to help me with the investigation, I felt guilty every time I had an odd, random idea that made her think we were closer to the truth, only to have it not lead anywhere useful. I went back to counting gears and sprockets with more d
etermination.
By dinner time, we had made some progress on the inventory, and Inspector Burrows had sent a note saying he had delivered the messages sent to him to Inspector Wainwright and that Wainwright seemed to be handling the case with his usual thoroughness, which I knew was meant to be comforting, even if I had less confidence in Inspector Wainwright than Inspector Burrows did. As Ada put the ledger books away behind the counter, she said, “I think that’s enough for today. I don’t know that any of us feel like cooking supper, though.”
“I’ll run and get some fish and chips,” Kate offered. “What kind do you want, Cassie?”
Ada gave me a look, so I said, “Actually, I was thinking of going back to Paddington Street. I should check on my flat, and Mrs. Albright could have some ideas about the case.”
“You’re certain? We don’t want to chase you off.”
Ada nodded once, so I shook my head. “I really ought to check my mail and everything. I don’t want to miss any interesting typing jobs.”
“All right. But you’ll come back tomorrow and tell us how the case is going, even if you haven’t solved it or even come up with anything brilliant?”
I thought the last was most likely to be the situation, but I said, “I’ll come and hear the latest from you, at least.”
Ada grabbed her hat and coat from the rack. “Why don’t we walk Cassie to the Underground station, then go for something to eat on Oxford Street.”
So that was it. She wanted to get Kate out of the shop for longer than a walk to the fish and chips stand on something that had nothing to do with her case. It seemed like a good idea, particularly when Kate suggested the cafeteria at one of the larger department stores with a bit of enthusiasm.
When I got back to Paddington Street, I went to Mrs. Albright’s flat to get my mail and see if anything had happened in my absence. “Cassie, I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow. Did the inventory get finished early?”
