by L. A. Nisula
“Miss Pengear, good morning. Inspector Burrows is still having breakfast at the pub.”
“I actually wanted to speak to you.”
He gave me an incredulous look but didn’t tell me to leave.
“I have a list of names, and I was hoping you would take a look at them for me.” I reached for my handbag, but Inspector Crawley shook his head.
“I know Inspector Burrows listens to you, but I’m not part of that case, so I don’t have anything to contribute.”
“But you know the parties involved, don’t you?”
“Of course. I’m called down there all the time for exciting cases like missing test results or insults painted on the office doors. Nothing as complex as murder. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have cases of my own to work. Like Mr. Parker’s missing overcoat. That’s a pressing matter around here.”
I sighed. Inspector Burrows probably didn’t realize how badly he was stepping on Inspector Crawley’s toes, even though the murder had happened in London. Next time I saw him, I’d tell him he ought to confide Inspector Crawley a bit, just in case he needed him on this case.
Back on the street, I looked over the list Mr. McAvery had marked for me to see what information I could get on my own. It would be easiest to start with the professors, I decided. The students would probably be better at lying, if nothing else.
Perhaps if I knew what form the blackmail took, how he asked for and received payment, then I could narrow down my list. And I knew of one victim who had every reason to help me find the real killer as quickly as possible.
~*~*~
I tapped on Professor Brookwald’s office door. This was not a conversation I was looking forward to having, but it was the reason Inspector Burrows had asked me down here, and he certainly couldn’t do it himself.
“Come in.”
Now or never.
Professor Brookwald was seated at his desk, reading what looked like essay books. He seemed surprised to see me come through the door. Probably expecting a student. “Miss Pengear, right? Were we supposed to meet with Inspector Burrows?”
“No, I wanted to talk to you about something. It does have to do with the case, though.”
“Certainly. Please, sit down.”
I pulled the door closed behind me and sat. Professor Brookwald raised an eyebrow when the latch caught, but didn’t say anything.
Now, how to begin? At the beginning, I supposed. “I saw Mr. Langley poking through Professor Headly’s desk last night.”
“I see.” He did see, or at least part of it.
“I poked around myself, and I found the letter.”
Professor Brookwald leaned his elbows on the desk. “I don’t think you’re the sort to try picking up where Professor Headly left off.”
“Of course not, and I didn’t give it to Inspector Burrows either.”
He relaxed a fraction.
“I’m afraid I can’t give it back to you either.” He didn’t seem bothered by that, but I pressed on. “It’s part of a murder investigation, and while I don’t think it actually has anything to do with it, I can’t put it in a place where it can’t be accessed if it should become important. You understand, don’t you?”
“Miss Pengear, when I was working on dig sites, we saved everything, every scrap. Most of it was junk, but there was always the worry that there would be one piece, one fragment, that looked like nothing but would be the answer to everything. I can assure you the letter you found has absolutely nothing to do with the murder, just as I can assure you Mr. Langley was home at the time of the murder, but I also realize that that is exactly what I would tell you if the letter was central to the crime, so I see your point. When the case is solved, what will you do with the letter?”
“If it really has nothing to do with the murder, then return it to its rightful owner.”
“Thank you.”
“Could I ask you about the blackmail? It might help Inspector Burrows look at the other victims if he knows how the crime worked.”
“I suppose. Is it necessary to tell him?”
I didn’t want to give away Inspector Burrows’s secrets, so I hedged. “I think you find that Inspector Burrows can be very single-minded when it comes to his cases. He won’t be interested in any crimes he considers—harmless that might come up outside of the murder.”
“I see. I thought he seemed like a very understanding man. I’ll tell you what I can, but it isn’t much really. He got the letter from Robert’s room at our home. There had been a departmental meeting, and it was my turn to host it. He’d slipped off and found it.”
“What did he ask for?”
“Not money, of course. Professors here don’t make enough to make blackmailing us for money worth the effort. We are all expected to publish our research from time to time. I would write three articles a year for him. Supposedly he would then re-write them in his own style, but for the last few years he’d asked me to make the first page end with a full a paragraph and the last page start with one, which leads me to think he was only re-typing the first and last pages, or having someone else do it, I don’t know. He still wrote one or two himself, so he developed a reputation for being prolific. I would write test questions for him on occasion. Grade the occasional test when he would rather be on holiday. Things like that.”
“What about Mr. Langley?”
“He would have him conduct research for him. Take over his lecture if he was otherwise engaged. Things like that. All the things he would have had an assistant do, but he got the praise for not having one. I assume he did the same with some of the other assistants. You saw how Mr. Kendall knew his schedule? As far know, nothing else. Really, I think he wanted to get back at me for some reason and inconveniencing Robert was just to prove to me that he could, and that Robert was in as much danger as I was if I ever wanted to stand up to him. Does that help?”
“I think so. It tells us the kind of blackmailer he was, anyway. I’ll be very careful how I pass that on to Inspector Burrows.” No need to tell him it was more to protect my friend than him.
“I’d be very grateful.”
The conversation with Professor Brookwald had actually been helpful. Now that I knew Professor Headly had been taking his payments in services rendered, not money, I could start ruling people out on my list. For example, it was highly unlikely that any of the emigrés would have still been victims. There was only so much they could do for him out of the country and surely nothing worth the trouble of coming back to kill him, not to mention the interesting conversations one could have at the immigration desk when asked why they were returning. And looking at the graduation dates of the other students who had left, none of them would be in a position to do him any useful favors, even if they were taken into a family business. It was possible he was holding the information to see who was promoted, and remotely possible that they would know he was doing that and want him taken care of before he could act, but it wasn't probable. Certainly not as probable as one of the current students, or a professor being made to do something for him. So whom would I start with? Perhaps Miss Fenchurch would be free for lunch again.
I was in luck and Miss Fenchurch was putting her coat on when I went into the main office area. The direct approach seemed to work best with her. “Would you like to have lunch with me again?” She hesitated, so I added, “My treat.”
“I suppose that would be nice. Did you fancy the same pub as yesterday?”
“If you think it’s a good choice.” I really didn’t care where we ate so long as we could talk without interruption.
Chapter 6
This time, Miss Fenchurch chose a table in the front room. Apparently she felt more comfortable with witnesses now that everyone most likely knew of my involvement with the case. Or maybe she didn’t want anyone to think she was sharing information with me. Either way, we sat near a window in full view of the other diners. We made small talk until the food arrived, then I began to tread carefully, wanting to keep her as an all
y if possible. “Have you thought of anything that might be helpful to the case?”
She cut her shepherd’s pie into small pieces without eating it. “No, nothing I didn’t tell you about yesterday.”
I tried again. “So there weren't any rivalries?”
“None as serious as that.”
“I would have thought the summer trip was quite a coup for whoever managed to get it.”
“It is, but there was no rivalry about that. If Professor Brookwald is well enough, it's his. He has seniority. He's also been on several other digs going all the way back to his undergraduate days. He's the obvious choice. Unless it was directly related to Sparta, in which case Professor Headly might have been the best choice, but I don't think Professor Brookwald would have objected to that. Since he isn't well, it went to Professor Headly. If you're looking for a motive for murder, it's not there.”
“What did you think of Professor Headly?”
“If you want the truth, when I was told there was a murder, I wasn't surprised to hear it was him.”
I cradled my cup of tea in my hand and watched her. “Why ever not?”
“He wasn't much good, if you must know. Always on the look out for some angle. Ever since he was a student here himself.”
“So you wouldn't be surprised if it came out he was, say, blackmailing someone?”
“Not at all. Wait, do you know something? You do. I can tell; you're trying too hard to show nothing, so there's something to show. Well, I must say... I knew there was something of the sort going on. I could probably tell you five of the victims off the top of my head, just by the change in their behavior.”
My ears perked up. “I'd be interested in hearing about them.” But I wasn't going to be that lucky.
“I probably shouldn't say, as I don't have any actual facts, you see.”
“Of course.” I tried another approach. “What was Mr. Headly blackmailing you with?”
“I wasn't being blackmailed.”
I bit my lip. How would she react if I came out and told her I had the materials? I decided against risking it. “He seemed to be blackmailing everyone in the department; I'm surprised you weren't affected.”
“Oh, it's not to say that he didn't try. He had some nonsense about me and Mr. Carrington at the restaurant down the way. I told him to go ahead and tell anyone he liked that we were involved, and then see how he liked having to function in the department after I was sacked. I even developed a splitting headache and had to stay home the next day, just to give him a taste of how the office was run without me. I never heard a word about it after that.”
It seemed to be a very effective way to dissuade him. “Do you have any idea how he found out about Mr. Carrington?”
“None whatsoever. I assumed he saw us about somewhere. We are discreet, but there are limits.”
“And what did he want from you? Money?”
“I would assume not. My position is not a well-paid one. He never got as far as asking for anything: merely a few threats. Not even that, really; more hinting at a few threats. So you believe that was why he was murdered? One of his victims couldn’t stand the suspense of threatened discovery?”
I wondered how much she knew about the ‘suspense of threatened discovery.’ “It does seem likely. Blackmail is a dangerous business, although most blackmailers don't realize it.”
“As I said, I wasn't being blackmailed, so I'm not a good suspect.”
According to her, she wasn't being blackmailed, but I didn't say that. “But it does make you a very good witness.”
“To what, though, I'm not sure.”
I tried to come up with something that didn’t involve her blackmail. “Is there anyone in the college you think I should talk to?” It was a stall for time more than anything else.
She sighed. “Let me think. There have been some whispers about Professor Brookwald and why he hasn't allowed Mr. Langley to advance. I'm not certain how Professor Graham keeps his position, aside from the cricket. Professor Armstrong is always short of money and always trying to get more for the college, which causes some resentment among the staff. Otherwise, no, there's nothing but petty rivalries. I don’t have much real contact with the students. There could be all sorts of problems there.”
I already knew Professor Brookwald's secret, or I thought I did, and I didn't want to put too much attention on it. I latched onto the other names. “Where would I find Professor Armstrong?”
“He had a tutorial at eleven, then he usually stays to speak to students in his office and goes to lunch. After, it's anyone's guess, but I would assume either home or where ever he thinks he can find some wealthy donors.”
“And Professor Graham?”
“He has office hours this afternoon and then cricket at three.”
“And Mr. Kendall?”
“He'll be in the office they all share. I don't think he has a lecture today.”
“The same for Mr. Redmond?”
“That’s right. And Mr. Langley.”
I realized leaving Professor Brookwald out entirely would do the very thing I was trying to avoid, so I asked, “And Professor Brookwald?”
“A tutorial at one and a lecture after.”
“Then there are a few places for me to start, anyway. If you think of anyone else, I'm staying at Mrs. Eggleston's.”
Miss Fenchurch reached for her handbag, but I shook my head and insisted on treating her. I offered her dessert, but she said she needed to return to her desk. I suspected she merely wanted to get away from me now that she’d given me some other suspects to pursue away from her, so I said I’d decided to have some myself and watched her leave. Once I felt I’d given her enough of a head start, I paid the bill and went in search of Professor Armstrong.
I found Professor Armstrong crossing the common square in the middle of Serringford College. I caught up to him and fell into step. He seemed confused to see me, but said “Good afternoon, Miss Pengear.”
“Good afternoon.” I fell back on what had become my standard entry point. “I don’t know if you were aware, but I’m a suspect in Professor Headly’s murder.”
“Yes, I had heard that, although I wasn’t sure why that was. I don’t believe I’d heard your name before...”
It was a good opening. “I had done typing for Professor Headly. He telephoned me the day he died. I was wondering if you knew why.”
“No, he didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“It’s a terrible thing to have happened.”
“Yes, yes. It is.” He seemed confused by me talking about it but was too polite to tell me to be quiet.
“I wonder why it happened.”
“What?”
Had I been too abrupt? I hadn’t thought so, but I wasn’t used to being in academia. Maybe he wasn’t used to speaking to women outside of tea and dances. But I pressed on. “There had to be some reason, and this seems like such a nice, peaceful place. It’s hard to imagine that something like this could happen here.”
“That’s true, it’s a lovely college.”
That hadn’t been the sort of response I’d wanted. I tried being more direct but couching it in a gossipy voice. “But of course, something must have happened. Someone disliked him enough to kill him.”
“I suppose.”
I had to be even more direct. “Did you know of anyone who might have felt that way?”
Professor Armstrong looked shocked and a bit disturbed. “Miss Pengear, I’m sure they’ll find that it was some stranger. Someone from outside the college, outside the city even.”
“But how would they have...”
“I’m sorry, Miss Pengear. I have a meeting with some donors, and I don’t want to be late. And to be frank, I don’t want them to be thinking about this when I bring up the new collection we’re trying to purchase for the library. You understand.”
I understood he was trying to get rid of me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. Perhaps we can speak of it another
time.”
He looked even more horrified by that suggestion but said nothing, presumably since I was leaving.
Professor Graham seemed to be the next suspect to talk to. He was supposed to be meeting with students, so I started back towards the college building, but found Professor Graham standing in the square outside surrounded by a group of students, all tanned with athletic builds, none of them wearing their academic gowns, a couple without their jackets either. The cricket team, no doubt.
“All right, lads, another strategy session at lunch tomorrow, practice this afternoon, same time. Yes, Spencer, if you absolutely must work on your mathematics tutorial at lunch you may be excused. No, Donne, you have weeks to finish your end of term project. You can spare a few minutes for cricket. Any other questions?” He scanned the group and noticed me waiting on the edge. “Then dismissed. Don’t forget anything.”
There was a scramble as the boys collected up textbooks and papers from the ground nearby. Professor Graham barely acknowledged my presence as he watched the boys collect their things and handed out whatever cricket assignment they’d been given.
“Good afternoon, Professor Graham.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Pengear. Were you lost?” Professor Graham paid more attention to gathering up his gown than to me.
I was thinking of an answer when I was jostled by two of the boys pushing at a third in what I thought was supposed to be a playful manner. I pushed back, pretending they had caused me to stumble.
“Sorry, miss,” the two said as they adjusted their positions to continue harassing the third boy. Professor Graham made no move to stop them.
The third boy swatted them away. “I had them at practice yesterday, I know I did. It’s the last place I remember having them. I showed them to you, Marcus.”
“That’s exactly what I’d expect from a tinkering student.”
