by L. A. Nisula
“No, more the sort one of the lieutenants would confess to in order to be put in a different prison from the others after he’d given a list of names.”
“And what was Miss Hayes doing there to begin with?”
“Hoping to find some information on the other woman, I would assume. Apparently she hadn’t found it in Mr. Fetherton’s flat and had followed him to Rusham Street on other occasions. I was looking for cab drivers, you know, and not only from that day.”
Then there was the question Milly would want the answer to. “And did you arrest Randall?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“If I answer, will you leave?”
“I suppose so.”
“Then it’s because Mrs. Fetherton said he wasn’t involved, and I’m inclined to believe her.”
“Why on earth would you?”
Inspector Wainwright glared at me. “Her exact words when asked were, ‘Of course, he’s not; Randall’s an idiot.’”
I couldn’t help grinning a little. “I suppose that is true. He’d have given the game away the first night if he’d known.” I picked up my hat and gloves. “I’ll go home then and rest. Bath was a little more exciting than I’d anticipated. Did you have any typing for me?”
“If I do, I know where to send it.” Inspector Wainwright went back to his paperwork
In the end, Scotland Yard kept me and Milly completely out of the tale of the arrest of the Tinripper Gang. For once, I didn’t mind. It meant I didn’t have to worry about going into hiding. Inspector Wainwright sent me the case notes to type up on the murder, which did not mention the gang at all, only said that Mrs. Fetherton was angry over her son’s engagement to Miss Hayes and had killed her in a fit of rage. He put in a pay receipt for double my normal fee, so I think he may have been a little bit grateful. When I asked Inspector Burrows about Tommy and his family, all he would tell me was that they were all right and not to worry. I took that to mean that they had been paid the reward for the capture of the Tinripper Gang and gone off somewhere where any leftover gang members wouldn’t find them. Randall insisted to anyone in the press that his mother was innocent, making him look like a fool, and then that he was the brains behind the whole thing when the paying papers stopped listening, which made him look ridiculous. Milly insisted she’d broken it off with him before the whole thing started and then went to the Lake District for a holiday.
A few months after it was all over, I did get a blank postcard from New York, with a picture of the police headquarters on one side, and nothing but my address on the other. It could very well have been from one of my more forgetful relatives, but it seemed excessive even for them. Far more likely it was a note from Tommy letting me know where they had settled.
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Cassie Pengear’s adventures continue in A Drowning in Bath
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L. A. Nisula also writes fantasy novels under the name Lisa Anne Nisula. You can find out more about her and her other books at
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http://www.LisaAnneNisula.com
