by L. A. Nisula
I didn’t take the hint. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here in the first place?”
He studied his notes with a bit too much intensity. “Whatever do you mean?”
“This looked like an accident when it happened. Someone put out the wrong gun or put the wrong bullets in the right gun. And yet Scotland Yard sent over a detective before anyone even knew who the victim was. If you don’t want me asking questions, then you have to answer the most curious ones, at least.”
Inspector Burrows sighed. “If it were anyone else… but then, if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be pestering me like this.”
“I’d hardly call this pestering.”
“I suppose for you it isn’t. All right. There has been some money from a bank robbery showing up in circulation around here. The team investigating it thinks it came from the carnival, but they don’t have any proof, so there’s only so much they can do. When they heard about the shooting—and yes, one of them was here when it happened, so we found out about it fast—they asked the Yard if they could send someone down to look into it, and if we happened to see something about the missing money while we were at it, it would give them a direction to look. All right?”
I thought back to Mr. Harris’s statement. “It wasn’t the Crilston Bank in Goston that the money came from, was it?”
He glared at me.
“It was. That’s why you got so interested when he mentioned the victim's name. Do you think it’s connected?”
“It’s a coincidence. And it gives me an excuse to poke around a little.”
“But can you connect Cowboy Nick to the robbery?”
“Miss Pengear, we have no proof that the robbery and the murder are connected.”
“So you can’t. Quite a coincidence if they aren’t, and I thought detectives didn’t believe in coincidences.”
“We believe in them, we’re just suspicious of them. And you have to admit you saw him shoot the victim. That should be compelling evidence.”
“And why do they think the carnival is involved?”
Inspector Burrows went back to his notes.
I tried to think logically. What would convince Scotland Yard this was the source of stolen money? “There was a carnival involved in the robbery, wasn’t there?”
“A circus, actually. And no connection was ever uncovered.”
“So are you treating it as an accident or a murder?”
Inspector Burrows looked up at me. “The man was shot with real bullets from a gun that had no business having bullets in it. He ran a large bank. He’d been a manager at a bank that was robbed five years ago. Money from that robbery is turning up here. Until I see otherwise, this is an investigation into a suspicious death.”
“That’s a nonanswer.”
“We don’t have enough facts.”
“So Nick Culpepper is still a suspect.”
“There’s no question he shot Mr. Spalding. The only question is why.” He reached for the notebook he’d given me. “Now, you were a great help with the dictation, but please, go home and let me investigate this.”
I pulled the notes away and hid them behind my back. “You do need these typed up, don’t you? I’ll bring them home and take care of it.”
Inspector Burrows studied my face. I plastered on my best innocent smile. He finally gave in.
“All right. Drop them by in the morning, and I’ll make sure a payment slip gets submitted for you tonight. But just type them up. Whatever ulterior motive you have, forget it.”
“Now, Inspector, you don’t really think...”
“Yes, I do.”
“Scotland Yard pays well and on time. Of course I’m going to want the typing job. Besides, I can read my own handwriting better than anyone else.”
“And your made-up shorthand, no doubt. I already said yes. Now round up that landlady of yours and her nephew, and go home. Would you like me to call you a cab? The boy’s probably dead on his feet, or will be once he’s away from the midway excitement.”
I had been planning to say no out of habit, but he was right. “Mrs. Albright would probably appreciate it.”
“Constable Lipson, escort this lady and her friends to the main gate and put them all in a cab. Charge it to expenses; I’m approving it.”
“Right, sir.”
So he really wanted to be rid of me. I wondered what line of inquiry he’d be following.
Constable Lipson and I found Davy and Mrs. Albright near the cotton candy machine. Davy protested leaving, but his mouth was full of spun sugar, so we pretended we didn’t understand him and steered him towards the front entrance.
As we got into the cab, he managed to mumble, “But I’m not tired.”
He was asleep before the sound of the steam calliope had faded into the distance.
~*~*~
Back home at Paddington Street, Mrs. Albright carried Davy into her flat. I followed with the various parcels they’d managed to acquire while I’d been helping Inspector Burrows. “Did he win all of these?” I whispered.
“That boy we saw at the ticket machine was telling him all the tricks,” she whispered back as she unlaced Davy’s shoes. “I suppose it’s fair since they weren’t exactly playing by their own rules anyway.”
I tucked Davy’s new bear into bed next to him and spread the rest of his souvenirs out on the nightstand. The nightstand was already covered with advertising fliers, all showing cowboys and carnivals. One name caught my eye. “Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show.” I slid the page out. Limited engagement starting next week at Earls Court. “I wonder when they start setting up for these shows.”
Mrs. Albright glanced over. “Davy wanted me to go walking there yesterday, so they must have already arrived.”
I slid the flier back into place and followed Mrs. Albright into the parlor.
“Would you like some tea, dear?”
“No, I have to start typing up Inspector Burrows’s notes.” The sooner they were done, the sooner I could go to Scotland Yard to drop them off.
Chapter Five
The next morning, I waited until I thought the first wave of clerks and shopgirls had made their way to work then took the underground to Scotland Yard. Inspector Burrows had left my name at reception, so I was able to show my file of typed pages and go straight up to his office.
Inspector Burrows was already at his desk when I brought the transcripts to him. “Why am I not surprised to see you this early? I take it those are for me.”
I held up the folder. “I put each session in its own group, so you can file them however you like.” I opened the folder and spread the papers out on his desk to show him what I meant. At least that was what I wanted him to think I was doing. As I leaned over to point to the headers, I scanned the papers already on his desk.
“I think I can figure out that the name is at the top, Miss Pengear. I am a detective.” Inspector Burrows was smiling as he said it, so I hadn’t gotten on his bad side yet.
“I just wanted to be sure my system was clear.”
“So you had absolutely no interest in the Montwell Bank’s financial records, then.”
That seemed awfully fast, even for Scotland Yard. “Is there anything in them I should be interested in?”
“No, since you’re not investigating anything.” But he took pity on me. “And no because there’s nothing there. This is a very preliminary report, of course, but there’s nothing in it to suggest any kind of embezzlement, misappropriation of funds, lying, scheming, or other skullduggery. If Spalding was stealing money to support his gambling, it wasn’t from his own bank, at least not as far as I can tell. If it seems like a viable path to investigate, I’ll get someone with an accounting background to look these over. Otherwise, a dead end.”
“So that’s why you were willing to tell me about it.”
“I don’t want to be called to the Montwell Bank because there’s a suspicious young lady asking very unusual questions and pestering the tellers.”
As I turned to the door, Inspector Burrows said, “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. Leave this one to me.”
“What makes you think I’m planning anything?”
“You almost walked out of here without your pay slip.”
I had been so busy trying not to look suspicious, I had done just that. I turned back and took the slip of paper. “Thanks.”
~*~*~
Once I had put the pay slip through the accounting machine, counted the money it deposited, brought the whole thing to the bored clerk at the accounting desk, and had been promised the balance of my money would be on its way in the next two to ten weeks, I hailed a cab and set out for the Smithfield fairgrounds and Kingston Carnival.
After my adventures in the Scotland Yard accounting department, I’d had more than enough of automated money machines, and besides, I wasn’t planning on seeing any shows, so I walked past the ticket machines and headed into the carnival.
As I passed through the gate, I heard,
“Miss Pengear.” It was not a cheerful greeting.
“Inspector Burrows, how nice to see you.” I’d been hoping to get here before him, but that ridiculous accounting department payment machine had interfered. Although he still would have to have left almost directly after I saw him. “You read through my notes that quickly?”
“After our meeting, I had a feeling you’d be down here, so I thought I’d better come down myself and see what trouble you’d get into.”
I did my best to look offended. “Trouble? Inspector Burrows, I’m shocked. You know Davy’s only here for a few weeks. Mrs. Albright promised to get me some fair food yesterday, but we were rather rudely interrupted by your investigation. I decided to come back and get myself something sweet and fried.”
“Mrs. Albright didn’t mention you when I saw her.”
So Davy had convinced her to come back. “She probably wanted to save the surprise.”
“Then I won’t be seeing you near Cowboy Nick’s tent. Unless you’re going to see any of the other shows?"
"Let's see, at the first show I saw, the volunteer was killed. The second was raided by the police. I think I'm done with shows for now; I don’t want to see what happens at the third. Mrs. Albright promised me something fried. I think I'll stick with food."
"Well, food poisoning isn't on my beat, but if you smell bitter almonds..."
I swatted at him with my handbag.
"I just wanted a fair warning. Enjoy your day.”
From his tone, I didn’t think Inspector Burrows believed me at all, but he walked off towards Nick’s tent. It wouldn’t do for me to return to the crime scene that soon, but the food stalls were in the same general direction, so I set off for them. If I was lucky, maybe I would stumble into whatever Inspector Burrows was investigating.
As I passed the back of the entrance tent, I heard someone calling, “Miss? Miss?”
I turned and saw Art, the boy from the ticket machine. “Hello.”
“Davy with you?”
“No, I came by myself.”
“So you’re investigating just like Davy said you would.”
“Like Davy said I would?”
Art nodded. “He said you were going to prove Nick’s innocent; that’s why he had me tell you about the fight I saw.”
I grabbed Art’s arm. “Did you talk to Inspector Burrows yesterday?”
“No, miss. He wasn’t there when I went back, and that constable at the tent looked a bit, well, interfering, if you understand.”
I was afraid I did. “Where are your parents?”
“That’s a bit personal to ask on such short acquaintance, don’t you think?”
“I see.”
“But you thought my information was that important?”
“It might be. Come on. I’ll escort you to him personally.”
“And get on his good side for bringing such an important witness to his attention.”
“More to keep you from forgetting again.” The rest was only an admittedly nice added benefit.
Inspector Burrows hadn’t had time to get very far. In fact, he was almost right where I had left him. “Miss Pengear, I thought you would at least pretend you were going to get some food.”
I ignored his tone. “This is a friend of Davy’s. He has some information that I thought you would want to hear.”
Inspector Burrows stopped walking. I could tell he was ready to send me away when he spotted Art and realized I really did have something useful for him. He turned to Art.
“You have information?”
Art stood a little straighter and puffed out his chest. “I saw the dead man arguing with someone on the day he died.”
Inspector Burrows pulled out his notebook.
“Your name?”
“Artemis Sirius Gladwell Chillingsworth.”
Inspector Burrows paused with his pencil over the page. “I mean the name your mother gave you.”
They stared at each other, Art trying for enough bravado to shake Inspector Burrows, Inspector Burrows calmly expecting to be answered.
Inspector Burrows won.
“John Hodge.”
Inspector Burrows scribbled on his pad. “Very well, Mr. Hodge-Chillingsworth, how did you come by this information?”
“I saw him when I was on my way to get something to eat on the midway.”
“And you told Miss Pengear before you told me because?”
“You were busy with Cowboy Nick. And I needed to make certain I could trust you. She said I could.”
I was touched that Art would try to stand up for me.
Inspector Burrows smiled a little. “I’m sure I’m flattered by that. Would you come with me, Mr. Hodge-Chillingsworth? I have a temporary office set up by the ticket booths. Miss Pengear, I don’t want to interfere with your quest for fair food. I’m sure I’ll see you again.” He led Art away.
I decided retreating and regrouping was my best course of action. After all, I already knew everything Art would tell him, and anything unusual that happened, I could get out of Art later. No, my best move was to get something to eat to keep my cover story intact, then see where Inspector Burrows was planning on investigating and choose another direction.
~*~*~
Most of the food tents weren’t open yet, so it took me almost twenty minutes to find a booth selling fried dough with cinnamon. When I’d found it, I realized I’d made a small circle and ended up back near the ticket tents. Inspector Burrows had told Art he’d set up headquarters somewhere around there. I wondered if I should try to find it or get as far away as possible before he came back.
I was still deciding when I heard my name called. “Miss Pengear, I thought you were getting something to eat.”
“I did.” I held up the sweet I was eating.
“And then you came back here?”
“The stall was right over there.” I pointed.
Inspector Burrows sighed. “A very convenient coincidence, no doubt.”
“It wasn’t, actually. I had to walk all the way to the ball toss and back around to find this.”
“Milk bottle toss, fish bowl toss, or tin can toss?”
“Does it matter?”
“I was just wondering how inconvenienced you were.”
“Compared to, say, you?”
He smiled and inclined his head.
“Wasn’t Art helpful?” It wouldn’t hurt to remind him that I had brought him that clue.
“And how would you know the value of his information?”
“I’m not going to send just anybody to disturb you during an investigation. I checked the quality of the information first.”
“I see. Very considerate of you, I’m sure.”
As he was talking, we were walking in the direction of the practice tents. I wasn’t sure if Inspector Burrows realized he was leading me there, but I d
oubted it, especially when we came upon Nick Culpepper, and Inspector Burrows moved in front of me, blocking my way. Cowboy Nick didn’t seem to notice.
“Howdy, Inspector, and Miss Pengear, right? How’s the little buckaroo doing?”
I assumed he meant Davy. “He’s with his aunt. You’ll probably see him around.”
“So he’s not with you?” I noticed his accent drop a few notches. “You said you had a few questions for me, Inspector.”
“That’s right,” Inspector Burrows said. “If it won’t interfere with your plans.”
“I was just going to practice—”
“I don’t want to disturb your schedule. Do you mind if I just come along and watch? I can question you there just as well.”
Nick shrugged. “I suppose not. There’ll be shooting, but you should be fine with that, right?” Nick looked over at me. I smiled back. If Nick wanted to think I was part of this, who was I to disabuse him of that notion?
“Mr. Cardinal said you practice quite often.”
“That’s right. They even put our wagon near the practice grounds to make it easy for me. Come on, I’ll show you.” Nick started across the open area behind the wagons. Inspector Burrows hurried to catch up.
Since no one told me not to, I followed Inspector Burrows and Nick.
“Here we are.” Nick looked around as though he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Just go ahead and do whatever you were going to,” Inspector Burrows said. “I don’t want to interrupt you.”
Nick looked uncertain, but he went to the shooting range and pinned up his paper target, which had a playing card stuck to the center of it. Inspector Burrows waited for him to check his guns and get into position then stood behind him and slightly to the side. I stood behind Inspector Burrows on the theory that, as a policeman, he would know the safest place to watch from.
Nick got off his first shots, then Inspector Burrows asked, “How often do you practice like this?”
“Every day if I can get the time. Have to keep sharp.”
