by Issy Brooke
“She has some. I will contact my bank and have them release as much as she might need.”
“Then let us kill two birds with one stone,” Prendergast said. “On Monday, I am to head into town to speak to the banks about Alfred Pegsworth. Would you accompany me?”
“I would be honoured.” Monday, thought Theodore. That is too late. I want to act now!
But he could not.
“Good,” said Prendergast. And he looked kindly at Theodore as if he understood the older man’s impatience. “Then it is settled. Let us go back to dinner. I think the soup might be getting cold.”
“I must apologise to the others...”
“No.” Prendergast stopped Theodore. “Do not tell them why you had to suddenly leave. Let them be unsettled. Let them be worried. Let us watch for the cracks.”
Theodore smiled back at him. “No wonder you are an inspector,” he said. “It shall be done.”
A TAP AT THEODORE’S bedroom door woke him earlier than usual the next morning. He wanted to be able to claim that he had not slept a wink, being consumed with worry, but it was clear that he must have slumbered like a baby. He found Prendergast looking lively and refreshed in the corridor.
“Sir – oh! I beg your pardon. I did not realise you kept late hours.”
“I keep normal hours. What is it? Has something happened?”
“Oh, don’t be alarmed. I have allowed the businessmen to go out today on a fossil-hunting expedition. They claim that they need to make plans and discover the best places to take their potential clients.”
“I thought no one was to leave? What if they run off?”
“I believe they shan’t. If anyone does not return here tonight, they have effectively shown their guilt, don’t you think? But they were all chafing under the restrictions and I feel a little freedom may relax them a little. And there is one other thing.” He grinned. “They have all just left the house. Together.”
Theodore understood immediately. They were to search the rooms. “I will dress and join you as soon as I can.”
“Very good.”
He didn’t take long to throw on a shirt, trousers and loose jacket. There was no need for waistcoats and cravats and starched collars while in one’s own house, after all. Prendergast was waiting for him just around the corner of the corridor.
“I searched Halifax’s room once again yesterday,” Prendergast said. “I spent a long time just sitting and thinking and looking around. Sometimes you have to really inhabit a man’s space to understand him. I asked myself where Halifax would keep his money.”
“In a bag, or a pocket. Under his pillow, perhaps under his bed. In a shoe? Slipped into a book?”
“All good ideas. The question rests on whether Halifax was hiding his money or not. If he was hiding it, why would he do so, when in a safe house like this one?”
“Force of habit?”
“The force of habit of a guilty man. We hide what we know we are not really entitled to. Anyway,” Prendergast said, tapping with the back of his hand on Halifax’s closed door. “There was absolutely no money of any kind in his room save for what might be ordinarily accounted for. By which I mean, there were loose coins in his jacket pocket, and a small roll of paper money from his local bank in his portmanteau. Under his bed was a carpet bag which had been rifled through, and his shoes were scattered around. I think you were right about the shoes as a hiding place. Or at least, the killer thought it was possible too.”
“So Halifax was robbed. Do you think it was the motive for the crime?”
“It is possible but seems unlikely to be the sole motive. If the criminal wanted only money, why choose to target Halifax when they are here in your house?” Prendergast waved his hand at the display cases and fine paintings that adorned the walls of the guest area. “However much they might have obtained from Halifax’s shoes, they could have got much more by simply lifting that vase from its stand and sneaking off in the night. No, I suggest that we are still looking for a personal motive – and that is to our advantage.”
“Well then,” said Theodore, excitement and a little fear bubbling up inside him. “Let us search these rooms and discover who has the money now.”
Prendergast put up his hand in caution. “Follow me and observe only. I cannot have you putting yourself or your reputation at risk. Indeed, this is a step I ought not to be taking and I have waited this long as it is something I did not want to do. But it feels necessary as ...” He sighed, and did not finish.
Theodore nodded. He followed Prendergast into the first room.
Mr Samuel Froude was a neat and tidy man, which fitted his general demeanour. His travelling trunk was neatly packed, as if he were about to leave at any moment. Everything on his nightstand was lined up in little rows, and not a wrinkle showed in his bedlinen even though the maids had not been in yet. The window was open, and the room was very cold, but there were extra bedclothes piled up at the foot of the bed. Prendergast opened every drawer, felt in every pocket, and even perused his writing case.
He had some banker’s drafts and a small amount of coin. But there was nothing unusual anywhere.
Next they went to George Montgomery’s room. His was a little more disordered, but clean enough nonetheless. He had books and journals in a messy heap on the floor by the bed, and a few discarded stumps of candles on the nightstand. His shoes were scattered, but all empty, and his writing case was open and had no hidden secrets within. The half-finished letters, scrawled and angry with many crossings-out, revealed his frustration at his situation but sadly did not contain any confessions.
He, too, had a reasonable amount of money in the usual places but nothing that appeared to be secreted away.
Theodore put his hands on his hips and looked around the room in frustration. “This man is my prime suspect,” he said. “I give you permission to roll back the rugs and lift the floorboards if you need to.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have one more room to search, and I am afraid that Alfred Pegsworth is my prime suspect. Shall we?”
Theodore reluctantly followed Prendergast to his brother-in-law’s room. The window was firmly closed and there was a slightly stale smell in the air, no doubt from his old and shabby clothes, although he had two brand-new suits lying across a chair.
“We might not find money here if he has already spent it on things like that,” Theodore said glumly.
Prendergast nodded as he worked his way around the room. But the result was much the same as the other two. There was a reasonable amount of everyday cash, and a few notes. Prendergast seized one with interest. “Mr Pegsworth does not live locally, does he?”
“No. Ah!” said Theodore, looking at the paper money. “That is from the bank in town.”
“And that is where we need to go as soon as they open tomorrow. After all, Lady Calaway...”
Theodore could have slapped himself. He had been so caught up in the thrill of the chase that he had temporarily forgotten that his wife was stuck in London with his injured daughter. He gave a gasp and rushed from the room, colliding with the footman who was bringing him an early morning telegram. He read it and stopped running.
Prendergast caught up with him.
“It seems that my wife is ahead of me, and I should never have doubted her,” Theodore told him. “She has been joined by that Mrs Hobson – well, I suppose she has some uses – and they are coming home slowly today by private coach. We are to expect them tomorrow.”
“Mrs Hobson, the bishop’s wife?”
“Yes. But it can’t be helped. Right, then! Breakfast, I think. There is nothing more we can do here, is there?”
“There is not,” Prendergast agreed. He looked a little deflated.
In spite of having found nothing of interest in the rooms, and Prendergast’s evident disappointment that they had not solved the case, Theodore was still excited. He was relieved to be doing something again, and felt sure they were making progress although he co
uldn’t say what that progress was, exactly. But his enthusiasm was not reflected in Prendergast’s expression too.
Theodore strode downstairs to his eggs and toast. As far as he was concerned, they were surely closing in ... on something.
OF COURSE, Theodore thought as they headed into the main bank in the local town at first light the next day. This was a county-wide business with branches all over the region. Prendergast needs me to accompany him on these visits. Yes, he could use his authority as a policeman of some rank to compel them to talk to him, but how much easier it is to use me – my rank and title means the managers will speak openly and willingly.
And we are far more likely to be offered decent refreshments too. People rolled out the good biscuits when an Earl hove into view.
Yet Theodore found that the knowledge he was being used, to some extent, did not make him as resentful as he might have been. At least he was being of use as much as being used. The investigation, he reminded himself, was bigger than his own ego.
Sir Henry, the manager of the largest local bank, was very pleased to see them. He had only just arrived at his offices and apparently had not yet breakfasted. As he spoke with them, a delivery of fresh bread, fruit, cold meats, pastries and steaming hot tea and coffee were delivered to his office. He spoke through mouthfuls of food, crumbs falling onto his ample belly. He was, outwardly, a Punch-cartoon of a bank manager, but he was clever and quick and knew all of his wealthy clients very well.
He also knew of the riskier ones.
And he certainly knew of Bablock Halifax.
“I’d never actually heard of the chap until a month ago,” Sir Henry informed them. “Then all of a sudden men started coming here, asking for him – I sent them away, of course. Told them I hadn’t heard of this fellow. Until then, Halifax himself turns up at a dinner. Charity thing, you know. Funds for missionaries in Africa. I can’t get out of attending that sort of thing and I know they only want me there to open my wallet.”
“Why was Halifax there?”
“He was one of those leeches. Oh I don’t mean a doctor – begging your pardon, Lord Calaway old bean! I mean, he’s a – he was a parasite, just hanging on to better men, but rather than absorbing their betterness by some kind of osmosis – or whatever it is, you tell me, Lord Calaway, you’re the man of science – anyway instead of getting better he just soaked up all the outward show of things. Like a leech. Got fat on vanity. Am I making sense?”
Theodore and Prendergast nodded.
“So then I knew why people had come to ask me about him. And they kept coming, those other men.”
“But what did they want with him?”
“Oh? Oh! Yes, I didn’t tell you. Sorry. Croissant, gentlemen? No, very well. Impossible to eat politely anyway, don’t know how the French do it. Tasty, though. Yes, these other men. Creditors, the lot of them. All clamouring for a jab at his funds! I told them, he has no funds, or at least, none that he banks here with me.”
“He didn’t have an account with you?”
“No. Nor any other bank as far as I could ever tell. We talk, you know. I know we’re rivals but we warn one another, too. Not a bank in the whole county has a good thing to say about Bablock Halifax but there are a dozen men who want his – wanted his blood. Oh! Bad turn of phrase.”
“No,” said Inspector Prendergast. “I think it’s an entirely appropriate turn of phrase. He owed a lot of people a lot of money.”
“Does this mean our pool of suspects is much larger than we had thought?” Theodore said. “Could someone have sneaked into my house? I cannot bear to think of it!” He would not be able to tell Adelia if it were true that someone had crept in at night. She’d demand they sold up and moved immediately, possibly to somewhere with a moat and a drawbridge.
“I doubt that anyone broke in to do it,” said Prendergast. “But this makes me wonder about motives and who might be more involved than we’d thought. Let us suppose that Halifax owed Froude or Montgomery or Pegsworth a lot of money. Oh, let us take Pegsworth out of it for the moment – Froude or Montgomery run the business. Maybe I have been misled. After all, Pegsworth’s merely a small fish, nothing to do with the bigger picture.”
Theodore scratched his head. “I agree. So, Montgomery said that he was the one that brought Halifax in – he doesn’t deny it. They were involved together before and already knew one another. Could Halifax owe Montgomery some favour from the earlier business, and Montgomery be determined to make Halifax work this favour off, by working for the business?”
“Or the other way around,” Prendergast suggested. “No, listen to this. What if Halifax knows something about Montgomery which forced his hand and made Montgomery offer him a stake in the business? Either works. But what about Pegsworth? He is a curious one who simply doesn’t fit and I am still suspicious of him somehow.”
“Alfred Pegsworth?” said Sir Henry with a grin. “How is that little rascal involved in all of this?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. Doesn’t really mix in my circles – begging your pardon, Lord Calaway, I know he’s related to you, but it’s only by marriage after all and I am sure you understand.”
“I understand perfectly. One cannot always choose to whom one is connected.”
“Quite so, but one can choose whether one bumps shoulders with them regularly. As it is, Pegsworth is a curious sort of fish. He doesn’t have an account here. He’s with Peabody’s, and Mr Peabody actually mentioned him the other day. You might want to go and talk with him, if you can pin him down. Look for him on a golf course. Possibly in Scotland, ha! Not really the season for all that ball-walloping so you might be lucky to catch him actually at his desk, ha. Anyway – yes – so he was talking about Pegsworth. Not him alone, you understand. A bit of a crowd of us. We were all talking generally about those people whose income goes up and down but you never really quite know what they do.”
“Criminals,” Prendergast said flatly.
“Well, you sir would say that, but I don’t quite mean it that way. No, they’re not criminals in the way we understand it. They don’t hide in dark corners clutching a club, waiting to bash a fellow on the head. They go to restaurants or parties or the races, like anyone else, but when you ask them what they do for a living, it’s something different every single time. And one month they are flush with cash and another they are begging for a loan. We were talking about how hard it is to know what to do with them. Once you know them, of course, once you have the measure of them, you know whether you can advance a loan or not. But it takes time to trust, you know.”
“And was he trusted?”
“You’d have to ask Mr Peabody that.”
“NO,” SAID MR PEABODY flatly. He was a strangely shaped man with broad bony shoulders. Theodore wondered if such a gaunt frame made him better at golf. He was brusque in his manner and appeared to want to be dashing off somewhere else, but he agreed to speak to them during a “small gap in my diary.”
“No,” Mr Peabody said again, emphatically. “I would not lend that man any money. I barely know him. He has opened a recent account here with me. He floats through this area from time to time, and I am aware of his vague connection to your family, my lord, but he has very little actual history to reassure me that he would be a reliable person to hold a debt.”
“I see. Has he asked?”
“As it happens, only once, about a month ago. He tried to use your name. I was not having it, sir, unless you yourself wish to vouch personally for it?”
Theodore shook his head hastily.
Mr Peabody nodded. “Indeed. Since he asked for a loan, and was refused – at least by me – his funds have actually improved. I suppose his business venture must be going well. Is it?”
“It has not officially begun yet. They are still planning. And Pegsworth is not part of it.”
“No clients yet then?”
“Not yet.”
“No actual income?”
“Not tha
t I am aware of.”
Mr Peabody ruminated on that for a moment, but whatever conclusions he came to were kept to himself. He glanced at the clock, tapped his fingers, and they knew it was time to leave.
Once outside, Theodore and Prendergast conferred.
“I need to go back to the stationhouse and report to my superiors,” Prendergast told Theodore. “But things do not look good for Mr Pegsworth. I am sorry. For a moment I was concerned with the others but there are too many questions about Mr Pegsworth and he is ... well, I am sorry to say, he simply looks more likely.”
“I fear I ought to speak more closely to him,” Theodore said. He’d been putting it off for long enough. How could he face Adelia if he unearthed her own brother as the murderer?
“Please do,” Prendergast said, and if he noticed Theodore’s reluctance, he didn’t mention it. Within moments, he had disappeared into the crowds.
Theodore rode home in the carriage morosely. Thringley House seemed empty and echoing, and so did his own mind.
Fifteen
“It itches, mama, it itches beyond all reason!” Edith complained for the fortieth time that day.
The coach seemed to be getting smaller by the minute. Even Smith was showing signs of strain. Harriet had taken to drink, of course, and become loud and jolly in a way that helped absolutely no one. She produced packs of cards, bottles of spirits, board games, and more alcohol, and constantly tried to chivvy everyone into partaking of “little parlour games to lift our spirits! Our spirits, get it, ha ha!”
No one was in the mood for drunken charades while trapped in a coach for hours and hours.
Yet all the long tiresome journey became an instant distant memory as they rolled, at last, into the grounds of Thringley House at lunchtime on Monday, the second day of travel. Immediately the coach was surrounded by servants flooding out from the house, with Theodore not far behind, dressed in a good suit as if he had been somewhere or was just heading out. Even the fossil-hunters emerged from whatever they had been doing. Everyone wanted to know how Edith was, and she was in no mood at all to be coddled. Adelia sent them all away, retaining only a few footmen to carry her daughter inside. Smith stood apart, looking out over the muddy grey lawns, breathing deeply, and Adelia let her have her moment. Harriet grabbed as many bags and bottles as she could, and bustled into the house after Edith who was being hoisted aloft like a music hall production of the Queen of Sheba.
