by L. A. Nisula
“Really, what is it with you guys, Bailey. Do they give you something in the chemicals or something?”
“Lay off, guys. I really did have them.” He looked up at me. “Tinkering notes, for my end of term project.” He turned to Professor Graham. “You didn’t find them yesterday, did you, sir?”
“No, no tinkering notes yesterday.”
The taller of the two players turned to me. “Seriously, miss, have you ever known anyone to be as absent-minded as a tinkering student?”
I shrugged. “All the tinkerers I know had already graduated when I met them.”
“Would you stop already?”
I turned to the third boy. “Mr. Redmond said he had some tinkering notes when I spoke to him yesterday.”
The young man gave me a grateful smile. “I’ll check with him. Thanks.”
Professor Graham interrupted us. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss tinkering notes.”
“No, no, I didn’t.” I fell back on the story that had been working so far. “Professor Headly telephoned me the day he died; I was hoping someone knew why.”
“Gracious me, getting telephone calls from strange men. Really, Miss Pengear.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so I feigned concern. “Oh no, you misunderstand. I had done some typing for him, and I worried that he was unhappy with my work.”
“I’m sure it was fine. I wouldn’t concern yourself.”
“Well, it’s not every day I get a telephone call from a dead man.” Inspector Burrows and Inspector Wainwright might think differently, of course.
Professor Graham scribbled something on the papers he was carrying. “Well, he wasn’t dead at the time, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” He was certainly more worried about the stack of cricket notes he had than he was about my piece of mind.
“But somebody wanted him dead. Do you have any idea why?”
He snapped the folder of notes closed. “I’m certain whatever the reason was, it won’t reflect badly on you. I’m sure I will have the pleasure of seeing you later. Good afternoon.”
So shouldn’t worry my pretty head about murder. I sighed and turned towards the school.
The young man with the missing notes was waiting for me a little ways away from the place the team had been meeting.
“You’re interested in what happened on Friday night?”
He seemed sincere, so I answered directly. “Yes, I am.”
“You’ll find a group of students at the library, second floor. There’s a table in the corner, behind the translations of Sanskrit poetry that no one reads. They’re a bit... not really a rough bunch, but the even librarians don’t generally go up there and try to shush them if you see what I mean.”
“I think I do.” The ones who fancied themselves in charge. Probably well-off if not wealthy, good-looking, and with the personality of alley cats and the morals to match, if that wasn’t insulting to alley cats. “Do you think they might know something?”
He shrugged. “If there’s trouble, they’re usually in on it. Some of them are reading Classics. And I think they had something going on Friday night. One of them, Combe, lives on my floor, and he was spending a suspicious amount of time in the common room studying that night.”
“You think he was waiting for someone?”
“For a signal to sneak out.” He shifted his books in his arms. “I don’t know any more, or if you even want to talk to them, but I thought I’d say.”
“I’m glad you did. Thank you.”
He nodded and ran towards the school. I wandered towards the library more slowly, considering how best to deal with a group of unruly young men.
Chapter 7
In the end, I stopped by Mr. McAvery’s office and asked to borrow a pair of spectacles from the lost and found. If he thought it an odd request, he didn’t comment, merely put the box of missing items on the counter and let me sort through until I found a pince-nez that made me look strict and a bit authoritarian. With that and my notebook, I felt ready to face the little brats.
The Serringford College library was an impressively large building, although no fan vaulting. I smiled a little at that thought and decided I ought to find some just to tell Inspector Burrows I had. The librarian on duty spotted me almost as soon as I entered and crossed the room to stand in front of me. I immediately wondered if I had done something wrong. “I didn’t know I needed to be a student to come here, I’m...”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to ask, you’re with the police, aren’t you?”
“In a very unofficial way.”
“Would you happen to know if they found any tinkering journals in Professor Headly’s office? I don’t like to bother the Scotland Yard man with that, and Inspector Crawley seemed rather, well, irritated when I mentioned it to him. I know it seems like a small thing, but Professor Headly had borrowed the four latest copies, and the tinkering students will be in here next month cramming for their final papers, and they will be looking for them. If they’re completely lost, or you know, covered in blood or something, I’d like to have the chance to replace them. Not that most of the students would mind the blood, but I don’t think the clerks would appreciate it.”
“I didn’t see any when I was in the office, but I’ll ask Inspector Burrows when I see him. It should be easy enough for him to check.”
“Thank you. I know it doesn't seem like much, but when they're studying... Well, I'll let you get to work on whatever you came to do. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Could you direct me to the Sanskrit writings?”
“Sanskrit?”
“I think it might be related.” It was close enough to the truth.
“If you think it will help. Upstairs, straight back, then left. It’s the Armstrong Room. Professor Armstrong raised the money for it.”
I thanked her and made for the stairs.
The Armstrong Room would almost more properly have been called the Armstrong Closet. It was just large enough to hold the large bookcase that I assumed contained the Sanskrit translations and a table for study which was currently surrounded by a group of boys who clearly weren’t studying. I walked over to the table. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”
They all looked up at me, then turned to the boy sitting at the far end of the table. He looked me up and down. “Good afternoon. Looking for some male companionship for lunch?” He waggled his eyebrows in what I’m sure he thought was a suave and debonair manner.
I looked at him over the top of my glasses then made a few scribbles in my notebook. Asking them about the murder directly would be a mistake. If Inspector Burrows did need to question one of them about it, that would give them time to put their heads together and come up with a consistent lie. While I was certain that either Inspector Burrows or I would be able to prove it a lie, it would waste valuable time. “I am currently looking into an incident that occurred on Friday.”
“I’m sure you are.”
One of the boys leaned over, and I could hear him whisper, “I think she is. I saw her with the man from Scotland Yard. And she’s writing in code.”
“Shorthand,” whispered one of the others. “They use it so the criminals won’t know what they’re writing down.”
It wasn’t either, it really was just scribbles that I’d hoped would make me seem official, but if they wanted to believe it was more, that was fine with me. “Gentlemen, as I was saying, we are looking for witnesses to the crime. Now if you would all tell me where you were Friday evening after nine.”
They all looked guiltily at each other.
“I see. So you were somewhere you do not want to tell me about. Well, that is interesting. We had thought it was an outside job as all the students were to be in their rooms, but now it seems we will have to re-evaluate that idea.” I closed the notebook with what I hoped was an intimidating snap.
“Wait, no, I was at the library.”
I looked at the boy. “Your name?”
&nb
sp; “Keller.”
I remembered him from my list. He’d been caught stealing. “That late at night?”
“There were exams. I got permission from my tutor to be there.”
“And how do I know that’s true?”
“I had to ask for some books and they got them for me.”
I nodded. “Very well. Anyone else?”
“Can’t you just ask if we were where the theft happened?”
That was good. They thought it was about a theft, not the murder.
“No, that would taint the information. Now where were you?”
Four of the boys looked at each other. The red-head finally spoke up. “There might have been a party at the girls’ school across town. We might have snuck out and gone there.”
“And how likely is it that you were seen there?”
“Very. It was outside, on the grounds. A concert. It wasn’t that hard to sneak in and hang out in the park.”
“And how many of you were there. Show of hands, please.”
Five of the boys raised their hands, including the leader. “And were there other people from the school there?”
Several nods.
“Then I will need a list of names.”
“We can’t rat them out,” one of the older boys said.
“You can give me the list or I can ask the inspector to compel you to give it to us.” I tore a sheet from my notebook and held it out. “And put where each of you were with your names as well.” That would give me a list to compare to the blackmail materials.
The leader snatched it from me and started scribbling.
I ignored the glares and turned to the other three boys. “And where were you?”
“I was in my room,” the younger one answered. “The porter saw me go in. I had an exam too.”
“Very good. Next?” I looked around the table until another boy answered,
“I had a paper to work on.”
“And you were where?”
He shrugged and looked down at his papers. “The library. I’m sure someone saw me here. I was down in the Classics section. Professor Brookwald gave me permission to be out.”
Several of the other boys rolled their eyes and I heard whispers of “really, Mayer” and “she’s not going to mention this to anyone.” Apparently they thought actually referring to books on the subject of the paper was taking things a bit too far.
I stared at the final boy until he said, “I was working on a paper too.”
“Also in the library?”
“No.” He stared at his hands. “Someone was helping me with it. From another class.”
Probably one of the boys caught cheating, then. “Very well. If we have more questions, we know where to find you.” I held out my hand for the list. The boys passed it down to me. I scanned the names. Either their leader had purposely tried to write badly enough to make it unreadable or he had the worst handwriting of anyone I’d seen, but I had enough practice reading scribbles to be able to make out the names. “Quite satisfactory. Thank you for you help.” I swept away before any of them could question me or my methods.
I went from the library back to Mr. McAvery’s office to return the pince-nez. He was reading a newspaper and marking something in a notebook. At first I thought he might be playing the horses or something equally unlikely, but it seemed he was looking at the crime reports. He looked up when I entered. I held up the pince-nez.
“I hope it was helpful in creating the character you were attempting?” he said as he returned my prop to the lost and found box.
“It was, yes.” I hesitated, then decided it was worth trying. “Have there been any scandals involving the cricket team?”
“Scandals?”
“Yes, anything that might...” I trailed off, not sure how to explain.
“Be worth blackmailing over?”
“Well, yes.”
“Not that I know of. A few of the boys may have had some problems, as you no doubt already know, but nothing attached to the team itself. They play better than average, win more than they lose, but not to a level that cheating is suspected.”
“I see. Thank you.” It had been worth a try anyway. I was sure there was something about Professor Graham if I just looked in the right place. Perhaps Inspector Crawley would be in a mood to help me now. It was worth a try, I decided.
Constable Winters was sitting at the front desk when I got there. He smiled when he saw me. “Miss Pengear, nice to see you again. Were you here for Inspector Burrows?”
“No, I was hoping Inspector Crawley could look at a few names for me.”
“Is it related to the murder? That might cheer him up a little. Not that murder would cheer him up, but you know what I mean.”
I smiled. “I do.”
“Just go on through. He’s back at his desk. Inspector Burrows went out, so he should be in a good mood.” Constable Winters held the partition open to let me through but didn’t follow me through to the back room.
Inspector Crawley was sitting at his desk with six pairs of spectacles and a stack of papers in front of him. He looked up as soon as he heard the door open. “Miss Pengear? Can I help you?’
He didn’t seem annoyed to see me, so that was a good start. “I was hoping you could look at some names for me and tell me if you know anything about them.”
“Is this the list you asked me about before?”
I wasn’t sure what would give me a better answer, so I went for as little of the truth as I could get away with. “It is.”
“I told you, you’ll have to talk to Inspector Burrows. It’s his case.” He went back to his spectacles.
So he was still resenting losing the case. “But he doesn’t know the residents of the town the way you do.”
“Nice try, Miss Pengear, but as you can see, I am quite busy. So unless you would like to help me catalog the contents lost and found...”
I wondered if he was serious. I doubted it, but I was willing to try anything to get on his good side. “If you’ll look at my list, I’d be happy to type up the lost and found inventory for you.”
Inspector Crawley stared at me for a moment then shook his head. “You’re really serious, aren’t you? Give me the list. What are you looking for?”
I handed the list to him and sat down before he could change his mind. “Anything you know about any of these people. Have they reported a crime? Have they been involved in a crime?”
He looked at it. “Is there a reason for this?”
“I think they are all victims of blackmail, but I don’t know if there’s any way to connect them to the murder.”
“Professor Headly was a blackmailer?”
I realized that had been a rather abrupt way to tell him. “Are you surprised?”
He stared at the list. “I suppose not. It does give someone a motive for killing him. Does Inspector Burrows know?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I suppose that relieves me of the question of whether or not to tell him.” He scanned the list. Halfway down he chuckled. “Well, I suppose I can unofficially tell you about this one, Kingsly Booksellers. When he uses numbers, it's so I can't connect his customers to specific titles. If I could, I'd probably have to arrest one or the other of them.”
“Is my first guess as to the content correct?”
“If your first guess is salacious, then probably, yes. They're most definitely not political treatise or history, unless the illustrated scandals of the French court count as either.” Inspector Crawley handed back the list. “That’s all I can tell you.”
I wondered if that was all he was allowed to tell me or all he wanted to, knowing that it would get back to Inspector Burrows.
“Would you like me to start on the inventory?”
“Don’t bother. The rest of the inventory isn’t typed up, and we don’t have a typewriter in here anyway. But you could help by telling me what color you think those things are. It gets very boring to have a list of red, blue, and black.�
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I leaned over the desk. “The vest there is burgundy with crimson accents. The coat is somewhere between slate gray and charcoal. The shoe is dark olive. Why do you only have one shoe?”
He grinned. “If you can figure that out, you’re hired. First assignment: a drawer full of single socks I have at home.”
I smiled back. “The scarves are pine green, copper, and that might have been cobalt blue at one point.”
“Any views on the spectacles?”
“Three pewter, one copper, two gold. How do so many of them get along without their spectacles?”
“I have no idea, but I believe drink is involved. At least we’ll have a little variety. I hope you solve your case.”
“Thank you. I’m sure this will help.”
“I don’t know how, but I hope it does.” He picked up his pen and returned to his inventory list. I took my blackmail list back with me to the lobby.
Constable Winters was still at his desk. He looked up when I entered. “Was he able to help?”
“I hope so.”
“Good. He really should be in charge of the case. I’m not sure why Scotland Yard sent someone else. Inspector Burrows seems like a reasonable man.”
“He is. I’m sure he has his reasons.” To distract him, I pulled out my list and held it out. “Maybe you can help me. This is a list of people who I think might be involved in our case. Do you know anything about any of them?”
Constable Winters took the list from me. “Let’s see. I brought Tommy Higgins in for shoplifting once at Prescott’s, that’s a chemists shop near the college, but he managed to convince the owner to drop the charges.”
“Only the one time?”
“As far as I know. I think the cover-up cost him quite a bit of his pocket money.”
“Why would he do that? I mean, was there more of a reason than wanting to stay out of prison?”
“His grandfather owns a large manufacturing firm. He hasn’t decided who he will be leaving it to.”
“And a grandson who steals would be out of the running. I see.” A possible motive, then. I’d have to look into him.
