by L. A. Nisula
“I didn’t have a role.” Mr. Reed’s voice was shaking as he said it.
“And yet we have a witness who gave us details of your involvement with Mr. Purnell and his blackmail scheme.”
“But he would never,” Mr. Reed exclaimed before he realized that was more or less a confession to his involvement and stopped abruptly.
“Would never tell us about your role? It wasn’t Mr. Purnell who was our witness. Now, how are you continuing the blackmail?”
Mr. Reed stared at Inspector Wainwright silently. Inspector Wainwright glared back. Then Mr. Reed turned to stare at me. I tried to give him an encouraging smile and a nod to tell him this was the best course of action. He stared at his hands, then collapsed against the counter and sighed. “I’m not. I’ll be honest, I’m scared to death, too scared to do anything that will draw attention to me. For a moment, I thought perhaps you had found him, and he’d told you about our arrangement, but he wouldn’t. I suppose, if they’re continuing the blackmail, he must be alive to assist them. I knew that blackmail was a dangerous business, but I thought ours would be all right.”
Inspector Wainwright pulled out his pencil and started scribbling. “And what made your system so much safer?”
I noticed Inspector Wainwright was trying to scribble on loose bit of paper held over what looked like his wallet. I handed him the notebook I kept in my handbag without saying anything. I suspected I knew what had become of his notebook with the leather cover, and probably the spare blank notebooks most policemen I’d met kept in their pockets, and if I was right, Inspector Burrows was definitely having a very good influence on him.
“We didn’t actually have any material on the victims. Only what I managed to witness.”
“And how does that make you safer when someone threatens to stab you if you don’t hand over what you’ve got?”
Mr. Reed went pale. “I didn’t think of that. Only that there was nothing to prove that it was us. But that’s why they have him, isn’t it? He can’t just hand over the profitable stuff; they have to get it out of his head. And when they realize I might have more...”
“Then you understand why it’s in your best interests to tell us everything.”
“I don’t know what there is to tell. Mr. Purnell could always sense when someone had something to hide. I think it was merely that he’d watch for them to order some service they didn’t normally ask for, then ask them why they were doing it. If they told him, he’d figure it wasn’t interesting. If they wouldn’t, he’d assume it was useful to us. But that’s only my speculation, as I said.”
Mr. Reed didn’t seem to know how to go on from there until Inspector Wainwright asked, “And how did you arrive at the conclusion?”
“I listened while I was sweeping up and assisting and that seemed to be the pattern. When he had someone he thought likely, he’d make out their receipt in blue ink. That was my signal to follow them when they left and keep following them until I determined where they were going. Usually, it was quite simple. They’d meet someone in a restaurant or go to an office that seemed to be out of place for them. I’d bring the information back to Mr. Purnell, and he’d take care of making contact with them.”
Inspector Wainwright didn’t look up from his notes. “So you never brought him any proof?”
“No, only what I saw.”
“And how did you know the things you saw were worth blackmailing someone over? A lunch meeting could be no more than old school friends. A business meeting could be nothing more than a new client.”
Mr. Reed shrugged. “Mr. Purnell managed it somehow. I didn’t ask. I got a third of the money whenever it was paid.”
“A third?”
“It seemed fair, as he found the marks and arranged the letters and pick-ups. I never questioned it.”
“Was anyone else involved in the scheme?”
“Oh no, just the two of us. It was safer that way.”
Inspector Wainwright slipped his pencil and paper into his pocket along with my notebook. “I’ll need a list of all of the people you were blackmailing.”
“I don’t...”
“One of them probably abducted Mr. Purnell and might be coming for you.”
“I could try to think of....”
Inspector Wainwright gave an exasperated sigh. “I thought you said he wrote out their receipts in blue ink.”
“He did.” Clearly, Mr. Reed didn’t understand what that had to do with anything.
I decided to help him along. “Can’t you simply look in the receipt book for entries in blue ink? I doubt he changed pens between writing their copy and the shop’s.”
“Oh, I suppose. I mean, I could try.”
“I’ll wait,” Inspector Wainwright said.
Seeing he wasn’t leaving without the list, Mr. Purnell went to the receipt book and started paging through it.
“There’s no need for you to wait, Miss Pengear.”
I had been planning on leaving, as it seemed like a very boring task to simply wait for a list I couldn’t do anything with, but I didn’t want Inspector Wainwright to know that. “I don’t mind.”
He glared.
“I suppose I could hear about the outcome at your office, if you were to leave my name at the desk so I could come up directly.”
Another glare.
“It’s only that Kate’s worried, and I’d like to be able to tell her something’s being done.”
“Very well. If you’re going now, I’ll leave your name downstairs.”
I was surprised at the concession, but not about to turn it down. “Thank you.” I noticed Mr. Reed was concentrating very hard on something written in the book, so I whispered, “You noticed he said he got a third?”
“Meaning two-thirds are left, which would be convenient for a second partner. Yes, I did notice that.” He seemed more than normally annoyed.
“Well, after working with Inspector Fulson, or trying to, I’m not always certain who notices what anymore.”
That got me a little bit of a smile, at least. I left the shop and started for the Underground station, not entirely certain what else there was to investigate. I was used to one witness leading to something else to look into, but it seemed all the clues from the shop would belong to Inspector Wainwright.
I spent the rest of the morning at my flat sorting through the post I’d received while I’d been staying with Kate and Ada, then started work on a typing job that had come in until I thought I’d given Inspector Wainwright enough time to go over what he’d learned from Mr. Reed and get back to Scotland Yard. I got to a good stopping point in my typing, then went to see if he really would share what he’d learned with me.
When I got to Scotland Yard, I was more than a little surprised to find that Inspector Wainwright had indeed left my name at the front desk, which meant I had no trouble being shown to the lift that would bring me to the detectives’ floor. Inspector Wainwright’s door was closed, so I knocked, and from the unenthusiastic way he said, “Enter,” I knew he was expecting me. I went in and found him bent over his notes. He didn’t acknowledge me as I entered, so I showed myself to the more comfortable of his chairs and waited for him to finish reading whatever it was he was reading.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, then Inspector Wainwright sighed and looked up. “Did you have a productive afternoon?”
“Nothing terribly interesting. How was Mr. Reed’s list?”
“Repetitive. Just after you left, he admitted that he’d known the victims were the most likely suspects, so the list of creditors he’d given me was actually a list of victims.”
I smiled as I imagined Mr. Reed realizing what a task he had in front of him and hoping to get out of it, and exactly how Inspector Wainwright would react to that. “And I’ll bet you told him to compile the correct list anyway.”
“It’s always best to be thorough.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“There were six more names on the new list. I’ve
had Constable Edwards out checking their alibis and the alibis of those on the original list we hadn’t gotten to yet.”
“And?”
“Nothing. So far, everyone seems to be where they said they were, which was not in an alleyway in Mayfair.”
“It was late at night. Surely they don’t have alibis for the exact time.”
“Not that they’re sharing in most cases, but yes, some of them could have made the journey, although most of the timelines are a little tighter than I would like. Still, they are possible in that sense.”
At least I could tell Kate there were more suspects. “In that sense?”
“None of them seem to have made any changes to their daily routines.”
I considered that statement. “You mean that no one’s done anything to suggest they’re holding Mr. Purnell captive.”
“Or allowing themselves enough time in their routine to bring him food and make certain he hasn’t died on them.”
“Could they be keeping him someplace they go regularly so the change won’t be noticed?”
“Possible, of course, but none of them live or work in a place where an extra person chained to the floor would go unnoticed, unlike your building.” Another joke. Perhaps our efforts to be friendlier were working. Inspector Burrows would be impressed.
“Come now, you know if someone were chained up in one of our flats, Mrs. Albright would send for Inspector Burrows before the floors could be marred. If no one is feeding him, have you ruled out the possibility that he is dead?”
“Of course not, but he wasn’t killed at the scene, and there seems to be a second round of blackmail, so it suggests he is still among the living.”
“Have you found any more victims of the second wave of notes?” When Inspector Wainwright didn’t answer, I knew he didn’t have anything other than what I’d brought him. As we were being friendly, I ignored that. “What about the idea of an accomplice? We had thought that one-third of the money to Mr. Reed was suggestive.”
“It is, and that is an area I am pursuing.”
“How?”
“Through police methods. I believe you wanted to hear the results of the morning’s visit to Mr. Reed. I think we’ve covered that.”
So he wanted to be rid of me. It was the longest civil conversation I could remember us having without Inspector Burrows around to be a calming influence, which seemed to be some sort of milestone and a good reason to leave before one or the other of us snapped. “We did, and quite satisfactorily. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.” I collected up my hat and gloves and left before he could come up with an answer to that. Besides, it seemed as good a time as any to let Kate and Ada know about the morning’s investigations.
~ * ~ * ~
When I got to the shop, Kate answered the door almost before I’d knocked. “Cassie, come in.”
Ada looked up from the desk. “She’s glad to see you because we were approximately three minutes away from a mutiny.”
“Not a mutiny. Merely eye strain, lumbago, and a desperate need for some of Mrs. Gillington’s teacakes. And Julia’s abandoned us to attend a lecture on Methods of Steam Delivery.”
“Only because you insisted she go,” Ada pointed out.
“Well, it sounded like a very interesting lecture.”
I laughed. At least everyone seemed to be in a good mood, so Inspector Fulson must not have called. “You must have been desperate if you were considering going to gossip central after everything that’s happened here. What were you counting? Mitten patterns?”
“Worse,” Kate said with enough drama to tell me she was feeling more optimistic about avoiding arrest. “Knitting needles. But now you’re here, so I can delegate that task and get back to something simple like separating the bevel gears from the spiral bevels.”
Only Kate would find that simpler. I took her place at the table and started to sort the needles by length, size, and quantity in the set.
Ada looked hard at me for a moment. I tried to give her a look that said it was safe to ask whatever she was going to. Apparently, I succeeded, as she said, “How did the meeting with Inspector Wainwright go?”
“Well enough. He was surprisingly polite, for him at least.” I told them about meeting at the station and going to find Jack, then questioning Mr. Reed, and finally about actually being asked to go to his office and hear the results of the morning.
“And he actually gave Jack his notebook?” Kate asked from the shelf where she was working.
“I think so. I certainly don’t think he lost it between taking notes on his conversation and going into Mr. Purnell’s shop, and he doesn’t seem to be pickpocket-able, even by a professional.”
Kate laughed. “I’m starting to think we won’t ever figure him out.”
“I think it’s more that Inspector Burrows has figured him out,” Ada replied.
I was going to respond with something about Lupo to distract them from Inspector Wainwright’s behavior—I had the feeling it wasn’t something he’d want discussed—when there was a banging on the front door.
“Not Mr. Bergman,” Kate said, “he wouldn’t risk breaking the door like that.”
“And neither of the constables,” I added, “far too rudely done.”
Ada stood up. “Well, one of us has to go. Which one do we hope it is?”
“Neither,” Kate answered promptly. “I’ve had more than enough of Wainwright and Fulson to last decades.”
Ada laughed and went to let in whatever inspector had decided to descend upon us.
I didn’t need to look up from my knitting needles to know that it was Inspector Wainwright following Ada through the shop. Inspector Fulson would have been stomping through and probably knocking into things. Inspector Wainwright was in too much of a hurry to be done with us to waste time being clumsy. I considered pretending I hadn’t noticed him, but as he had been trying to be polite, the least I could do was meet him halfway. “Good afternoon, Inspector.”
“Miss Pengear.”
Ada steered him towards the chair we had been using to stand on to reach the higher shelves. It was off by itself so no one had to sit next to him, or he didn’t have to sit next to any of us. Both seemed desirable to all concerned. “Would you like some tea?”
He ignored the question. Apparently, his politeness did have limits. “I came to ask Miss Ferris a few questions.”
“I’ve already answered your questions,” Kate said without looking up from her bevel gears.
Inspector Wainwright put his document case down on the counter and opened it. “And I have a few more.”
Kate glared at him. “You know perfectly well I had nothing to do with your missing barber.”
Inspector Wainwright pointed to a spot across the counter from him. “A few questions, unless you would prefer to come down to Scotland Yard and answer them there.”
Kate rolled her eyes but got up and brought her chair to the other side of the counter, although not where Inspector Wainwright had indicated. Ada and I joined her in case she needed the support.
“Now, your alibi for last Tuesday night.”
“What about my alibi?”
“I’d like to hear it again.”
“But I’ve told you my alibi. More than once.”
“Nevertheless, I need to hear it again,” Inspector Wainwright said without looking up. He took a folder from the document case he was carrying and opened it on the desk, which seemed quite out of the usual way of doing things. “Now, when we last spoke...”
While Inspector Wainwright went over Kate’s alibi, which seemed entirely superfluous, as he already knew all of it and only seemed to be confirming what he’d been told, something he’d already done, I tried to determine what his actual purpose was. Naturally, my first thought was that he was simply being annoying, but he knew Kate wasn’t a kidnapper, and the kidnapping was his case, not the murder, and while he might make himself irritating for the sake of it when it was convenient, it was not some
thing he would go out of his way to do. So why was he here?
It was possible that he wanted to see our crime scene, but why not just tell us? The subterfuge would be necessary and even a good idea for many of the suspects, but we had already allowed him to see the broken window quite readily. And if he thought we were hiding something in the back room, why hadn’t he asked to see us back there? He’d chosen the spot by the counter. It would have been simple enough for him to have walked back and waited there, probably having a good look around, as all three of us would be too stubborn to follow at once.
Inspector Wainwright slid his finger along the list in the folder as if to confirm something. The folder was still bothering me. It was unusual for an inspector to take a case file out of their office unless they were bringing it home to work on the case. I had never seen them bring one with them to question a suspect unless the questioning was happening in one of the interrogation rooms. In fact, it was such a rare occurrence, it would not surprise me at all to learn that it was forbidden, and yet here Inspector Wainwright was, with a case file. I edged closer to the counter and was surprised when he ignored me entirely. Kate was telling him the details of rewiring the alarms after they had gone off when the window was broken, which I was completely certain was of interest to no one in the shop but her, and that she was doing it merely because she was annoyed at being questioned again. That made Inspector Wainwright’s silence even more unusual. Snapping at her would have made a break in the conversation. Still, it allowed me to get close enough to the file to read it.
Inspector Wainwright had left it open to the page that detailed everyone’s alibis. Kate’s was there, in decidedly less detail than she was giving him now, which told me more than anything that Inspector Wainwright did not consider her a serious suspect. If he had, he’d have every detail written down, right down to the kind of wire she’d used to fix the switch on the quaternary backup alarm. All of the other alibis in the list had been written out in more detail, and most of them had been labeled “verified” in Inspector Wainwright’s ridiculously neat handwriting, including Kate’s, I noticed, with “CP” written next to it, making me think that he considered me adequate verification in this case. Again, a clear sign she wasn’t a serious suspect. I ran my gaze down the list and noticed one name had not been labeled “verified.” Mr. Grayson. I leaned in closer to read the notes.
