by L. A. Nisula
“I hope so. If Inspector Burrows acknowledges his help, of course. He needs something to cheer him up.”
“Something else gone wrong?”
Constable Winters began unbuttoning the overcoat he hadn’t had time to remove when he’d been escorting Mr. Spencer in. “He thought he'd solved the missing coat case, but it turned out it wasn't Mr. Parker’s after all.”
It didn't seem to be that interesting of a case, but I said, “That's too bad.”
“He does need some sort of a victory right now. I think he'd like to show Inspector Burrows he can solve something, and that's all he's got right now. Both cats made it home on their own.” Constable Winters took off his coat and hung it up by the door. “Of course, as the coat wasn't really found but turned in by the Carrington cafeteria, I suppose it wouldn't really have counted as a proper solve, so maybe it's for the best.”
I stared at his uniform overcoat. “Grey coats and tinkering notes.”
“I’m sorry?”
“There are a lot of gray coats around this case.”
Constable Winters looked up from his buttons. “I suppose there are, but that’s really not surprising. Grey coats are common. Probably the most common coat color in town, wouldn’t you say?”
“But there seem to be an awful lot of them floating around without owners. It just seems odd.”
“I suppose it is a bit unusual.” He shrugged. “But then, what does it mean?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. But it seems like it should mean something.”
Constable Winters smiled. “If you think of it, let me know.”
I nodded and set out for the tea shop.
As I passed Mr. McAvery’s office, I thought about what I’d said about coats. Inspector Burrows would say I was grasping at straws, but it was odd, and the more suspects I could find, the easier it would be for Inspector Burrows to justify letting Mr. Langley go. I went into the office.
Mr. McAvery smiled when he saw me. “How goes the case?”
“Slowly. Although Mr. Spencer may have been of some help to Mr. Langley. But I wanted to ask you something.”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
“There is an interesting aspect to the case involving people's coats. I think it might be helpful, but I don’t know how. Would you know who here has a dark gray coat, the same color as Professor Headly’s or close enough to be mistaken for it?”
“Now that is a challenge. How similar? Someone who is directly related to the college, or everyone in town? If you were able to tell me the purpose, I might be able to make a more useful list.”
“I don’t really know. It’s just that there seem to be a lot of stray gray coats in this case. It seems odd.”
“And you do well with odd. Well, the list will take some time to compile. I myself own a gray coat. If you would return tomorrow, I should have something for you.”
“Thank you. I hope it’s not too much trouble.”
“Oh, not at all. I would hate to see someone convicted of the wrong crime.”
I was halfway back to the guest house when I noticed the peculiar phrasing of his parting words.
Chapter 15
The next morning, I stayed in my room until I was certain the tea shop had opened, then made my way downstairs, hoping to avoid Mrs. Eggleston and her discussion of breakfast if possible. Then I would be free to debate whether to start my investigating at the college or to see if Mr. McAvery had managed to compile my list of coats over my tea and cake. When I got to the final landing, I scanned the lobby for any sign of Mrs. Eggleston and kept looking as I made my way downstairs.
When I reached the ground floor, I was surprised to find Constable Winters sitting in the chair behind the staircase, presumably waiting for me out of Mrs. Eggleston’s way. “Good morning?”
He nodded in greeting. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping on my way to the station. Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Would a booth in the tea room be private enough?”
“That will be fine.”
He didn’t say anything else as I spoke to Maisie and arranged for us to have a quiet booth in the back.
Once we were settled and tea had been ordered, with eggs and tomatoes for him and scones for me, I asked, “Has something happened in the case?”
“I think you might be onto something with the coats.” He paused while Maisie brought the kettle and cups.
I waited until she was gone to say, “Go on.”
“You were talking about gray coats, and how it was a little odd, so I kept thinking about it. I have a gray coat, you see, like just about everyone else. So when I got home, almost as a joke, I looked at mine. Only it wasn’t mine!” He stared at me, letting that sink in.
“And you didn’t notice before now?”
“No, I only wear it when I’m off duty. I’ve been wearing this for the last few days.” He tugged on his dark blue uniform coat. “So it’s been sitting in my closet since last Thursday.”
“And when did Mr. Parker lose his coat?”
“He reported it last Friday, the day of the murder, but he lost it the day before. As I said, I think you’re on to something. Will you come with me to talk to the inspector?”
“Of course. Yours or mine?”
“Probably both, wouldn’t you think? The coat case is Inspector Crawley’s.”
“Then I think we need some more tea.”
~*~*~
When we’d finished our tea, which really meant that any more tea would quite obviously have been nothing more than a delaying tactic, we made our way to the station. Both Inspector Burrows and Inspector Crawley were there, both trying to ignore the other in the most obvious way possible. The effect was ruined when they both looked up at us at the same time.
Inspector Crawley spoke first, “Good morning, Miss Pengear.” Then he turned to Constable Winters expectantly. Clearly he had assumed the two of us would split up between them. Inspector Burrows seemed to think the same thing since he attempted to make room for me in his end of the office.
Constable Winters turned to me, so I spoke up, “We have something we think you both ought to hear.”
Inspector Burrows looked up. “Miss Pengear, if you’re about to lecture us...”
“Oh no, nothing like that. It’s related to the case.”
Constable Winters spoke, “I think Miss Pengear may be right about the coats.”
Inspector Burrows put the papers he was holding back on the chair. “We all agreed it was odd. But that’s not enough to connect it to a murder investigation.”
“My coat is gone as well.”
They both turned to him. “You’re certain you didn’t just misplace it?” Inspector Crawley asked.
“Positive. I have the wrong coat hanging in my closet.”
Inspector Burrows leaned forward. “And when did you see it last?”
“The last time I wore it was when I had dinner with my brother at Carrington’s.”
Inspector Crawley pulled his chair closer. “That was last Thursday? The day before the murder?”
“That’s right.”
Inspector Burrows nodded. “And it was your coat then?”
Inspector Crawley glared at Inspector Burrows. I tried to motion to him that he was stepping into one of Inspector Crawley’s cases again, although a very small and insignificant one if it truly wasn’t related to the murder.
Constable Winters hesitated. “I didn’t notice that it was different.”
Either Inspector Burrows didn’t notice my hand gesture to let Inspector Crawley speak or he thought I was swatting at some insect. Either way, he kept on with his questioning. “And you’re certain it is not your coat?”
“Positive. Mine has a very small bit of black piping on the sleeves, right in the edge of the cuff. And the right-hand pocket had a repair on the inside. This coat has neither.”
Inspector Crawley began speaking almost before Constable Winters had stopped as if he wanted to have his sa
y before Inspector Burrows. “All right. Bring it down here, and we’ll see if we can figure out what’s going on.”
Inspector Burrows turned to me. “I’ll admit that this is odd, but how does it connect to the murder?”
I struggled for something. “It seems to have happened the day before.”
“So did a great many other things, none of which were related.” He stood up. “Have you gotten the papers I asked for yet?”
“No, not yet. But I will.”
He nodded but didn’t insist. I suspected he was using it as an excuse to get rid of me. He turned back to Inspector Crawley. “If you see anything in this that will connect it to the murder...”
“I’ll be sure to let you know.”
I could tell by his expression that Inspector Burrows had finally realized he’d taken over again. “Thank you.” He hesitated as if he were going to say something else, but finally gave up trying to find some way to offer to help with the coat case or make it seem important in its own right without making Inspector Crawley more upset than he already was. I left the two of them to sort out their own argument and whispered, “Good luck” to Constable Winters on the way out.
“Thanks, I think I’ll need it,” he whispered back.
As I left, I wondered what color coat Mr. Langley wore. Professor Brookwald would know. Of course, if I was completely honest, Inspector Burrows was right; there was very little to connect the coats to the murder. But it was the best lead I had at the moment, and Inspector Burrows wouldn't wait much longer for me to get him the letter that wasn't in London. I knew I couldn't rely on Inspector Crawley for help, but Constable Winters was another matter. And it was his coat that had convinced me I was onto something, if only I could figure out what that something was.
I hesitated for a moment, then wandered back towards the police station, looking in shop windows as I went. If I should happen to run into Constable Winters while I was shopping, there was no reason not to ask him for help. He could always say no. And helping me would help him get rid of Inspector Burrows that much sooner, so it would benefit him as much as me. I made two circuits of the shops, then a third where I actually went in some and considered buying things. When some of the shopkeepers seemed to be wondering if I was a thief, I switched to waiting across the street from the police station until I saw Constable Winters come out. I started down the street and waved to him as he approached, pretending I had run into him by chance.
“Hello.” I could see he was expecting me to continue on to the police station. When I didn't, he added, “Inspector Crawley left to work on one of the cat cases, but I’m not sure even he knows which anymore, but Inspector Burrows is still looking through whatever he was working on this morning.”
I almost said that I’d thought the cats were found but stopped myself. Clearly it had been an excuse to leave the station. “I don't have anything new for him at the moment.”
“What a coincidence, then. You just happened to be in the neighborhood as I was going to lunch.”
“Yes, isn't it?”
“How long were you waiting?”
I hadn't really expected him to believe it. “Not very.”
“So what did you want, and how much trouble will I be in when Inspector Crawley finds out?”
At least he wasn't refusing yet.
“Would you go and take a look at the coats of the professors in the Classics Department?”
“If you think it will help. Will you tell me why?”
“I’d rather wait until you’ve done it.”
“So you don’t contaminate the witness. Fair enough. It shouldn’t even get me in trouble.”
“I’ll treat you to lunch afterward.”
“Very nice of you, but not necessary.”
When we arrived at the classics floor, Constable Winters turned towards the offices. I hung back. “I'll meet you in Professor Headly's office when you’re done.”
“Certainly. Did you have some other area to investigate?”
“I just wanted a quick word with Professor Brookwald.”
Constable Winters nodded but didn't comment on that. “Then I'll start with Professor Armstrong.”
Professor Brookwald was seated at his desk when I knocked on the open door and entered.
“Miss Pengear, how nice to see you. Did you bring any news from the police station?” He tried not to sound too eager and failed at it.
“I'm afraid not, but we are investigating some promising leads.” At least, I thought the coats were promising.
“Anything I can do to help, of course.”
“I just needed to know what color is Mr. Langley's overcoat?”
“Mr. Langley's? Light gray.”
“Not dark gray?”
“No, I suppose you could call it smoke. I think that's what it said in the catalog he ordered it from. Does that help?”
“It might. Is his coat in your closet at home?”
“I believe it's being held at the police station, awaiting his release.”
“But you're certain it was his when he left?”
“As far as I can be. Does that help?”
“I don't know. I hope so.” I left him staring down at a stack of essay books, not really seeing them.
After leaving Professor Brookwald's office, I waited in Professor Headly’s office while Constable Winters made his rounds. I took another look at the desk, but after I’d found the secret panel, the police had gone through every seam and joint looking for anything else they might have missed, I assumed so I wouldn’t find it first. The bookshelves were equally uninteresting. I started where I had left off the last time and made my way along the shelf pulling down each book, shaking it out, then putting it back. I tried to find some kind of code in the arrangement of the titles, but there was nothing there. It didn’t help that half of them were quite literally Greek to me.
I hadn’t made any progress by the time Constable Winters came back looking perplexed. “Find something interesting?”
“I really don’t know, Miss Pengear. I saw my coat in Professor Graham’s office, but when I mentioned to him that we were looking into some confusion with coats, he was quite certain that he had his proper coat.”
“I suppose it’s possible for the two of you to have the same coat.”
“Of course it is, and I said I was sorry, and it looked exactly like the one I was searching for.”
“But it bothers you?”
“When I started to apologize, he said he could prove it was his coat and pulled a cigarette case out of the pocket. It was my cigarette case.”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t. I got it as a premium for purchasing six tins of Blake and Sons tea. It has a spot for keeping matches dry, so I carry it around in case I need to light a lantern or candles somewhere.”
“I suppose he could also have purchased six tins of Blake and Sons tea, and be carrying around the cigarette case.” But it did seem to be quite a coincidence.
“Certainly, but there is a bit more. My sister was experimenting with metal work. Since the case was aluminium and quite soft, I let her practice her skills on it. It was her first attempt at something so elaborate, so the pattern is quite—um—unique? I don’t think someone else would be carrying something so—obviously hand crafted.”
He was making an excellent case for the coat being his, only, “Why would he show you your own cigarette case?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell him I was looking for my coat, just a coat. And as you say, I don’t smoke.”
“So he’d have no reason to think that was your coat, and you were able to get proof that he was lying.” I leaned against the desk, then remembered there had probably been a dead body there and jerked away.
“We think he landed near the bookcase.”
I took note of the area Constable Winters was indicating so I could avoid it, at least as much as was possible in an area as small as the office. “That still leaves us with the question of why he wa
s lying to you.”
“Clearly he either wants my worn-out old coat or doesn’t want us to know he’s involved in the mix-up.”
“Any idea why?”
He shook his head. “I’ll ask my inspector for ideas, and you can ask yours.”
I grinned. “Seems fair. Would you like lunch first?”
“No, I think not. If we hurry, we should be able to get back to the station before Inspector Crawley gets back from his lunch, and then everyone will be in a much better mood when we tell them.”
Only when we got to the station, both of our inspectors were sitting in the back office again, which was really only large enough for one person to use comfortably even without the extra desk and the folded-away cot, and neither one seemed to have forgotten our earlier arrival. They both looked up when they heard us enter and neither looked particularly pleased to see us together again.
I figured it was best for me to break the silence. I could always run back to the guest house; Constable Winters would be forced to remain at his desk. “We may have found some interesting information.”
“On which case?” Inspector Crawley asked.
“Both, actually. We may have found the connection.”
“You mean there really was one?” Inspector Burrows asked.
I nodded. “Constable Winters found it.”
Both turned to him. Constable Winters rubbed at the back of his neck as he explained our little experiment, then seemed to relax when neither of them were annoyed with him—although both gave me a look that wasn't quite a glare—apparently this was my fault, not his. When he'd finished his tale, he asked, “The question is, why would Professor Graham lie about my coat?”
Inspector Burrows rubbed his temples. “Was it a particularly nice coat?”
“No, it was a particularly cheap coat. I’ve been meaning to replace it but haven’t bothered since I wear my uniform coat most of the time when I’m out.”
