Penny Green series Box Set 2

by Emily Organ

  “It seems that way.”

  “But he got into trouble with Mr Chakravarty for securing a mortgage advance on a property he didn’t own.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So Mr Chakravarty could have arranged Forster’s murder as an act of revenge?” said James.

  “Possibly.”

  “Then there’s Mr Holland, who was caught stealing opium.”

  “He stole it under duress. His intentions were honourable to begin with, given that he had reported his colleague Charles Mawson.”

  “Mawson was dismissed for stealing opium after Holland reported him.”

  “Yes, and for a while I thought Mr Mawson had arranged to have Mr Holland murdered out of revenge for what he had done.”

  “But then Mawson was murdered.”

  “Yes, in a similar manner to Mr Forster,” I said.

  “But Mawson still could have ordered Holland’s murder.”

  “Yes, he could have done.”

  “Perhaps Mawson was murdered in revenge for what he had done to Holland. This case can become confusing quite quickly, can’t it?” James sighed.

  “It certainly can. My theory is that Mr Holland and Mr Mawson were both murdered for stealing opium.”

  “It’s an odd motive, though. They didn’t cause anyone any personal harm, and both were punished by their employer.”

  “Perhaps they were murdered to ensure that they remained silent,” I suggested.

  “Yes, I like that theory. Someone didn’t want them to talk.”

  “And that same someone didn’t want anyone finding Mr Holland’s diaries. This is where I don’t understand Cullen’s involvement. He said he had arranged for the dairies to be stolen because they contained secret information. How did he know what the diaries contained? He also said that it would not have been good for them to officially be in the possession of the police. Who was he protecting?”

  “I’m still holding out hope that he has a suitable explanation for his actions.”

  A horrible realisation gripped me as I sipped my tea. “Chief Inspector Cullen said the contents of the diaries were secret, but Emma Holland has read some of them! She told me about the thefts carried out by her brother and Charles Mawson. If Cullen went to the trouble of having the diaries removed, what will he do about Emma when he realises she has read some of them?”

  “Perhaps he has assumed that she won’t cause any trouble.”

  “She’s desperate to find out who murdered her brother. She will most certainly cause trouble if no progress is made on the case.”

  “Then we must keep an eye on her,” said James.

  “Perhaps Chief Inspector Cullen will have a couple of men put a hood over her head and whisk her off to North London,” I scoffed. “That seems to be his manner of dealing with these situations.”

  “He’s probably found out that we’ve escaped by now,” said James. “He won’t be happy about it.”

  “Good,” I said. “It’s about time someone stood up to him.”

  “But we don’t have much time. We need to work quickly before he realises what we’re up to.” James checked his watch. “Fortunately, it’s not long until the telegraph office opens, so I shall soon be able to send a telegram to Charlotte. After that we’ll go and see a good friend of yours at the City of London police.”

  I groaned. “Not Chief Inspector Stroud?” I had come across him before while reporting on the death of Richard Geller at the medical museum inside St Bartholomew’s Hospital.

  “I’m afraid so, as I shall need him to lend me some men. I will have to bring in Chakravarty and Sheridan so they can be interviewed.”

  “What about Chief Inspector Cullen?”

  “I’ll have to bring both men in before he finds out what we’re up to.”

  Chapter 65

  Once James had sent Charlotte a telegram we made the fifteen-minute walk to the red-brick headquarters of the City of London Police headquarters in Old Jewry. Large, grey-whiskered Inspector Stroud was initially reluctant to help, still clearly resenting the manner in which James had wrested the Geller case from him. However, he begrudgingly agreed to allow a sergeant and a constable to accompany us once James had explained what he planned to do. With the two police officers in tow we made our way to Mr Chakravarty’s deposit bank in Change Alley.

  The City was fully awake by this time, the pavements filled with smart-suited men hopping off omnibuses and striding in through the imposing stone facades of banks and offices.

  While we walked, James explained the case to the two police officers, both of whom wore the gold-buttoned uniform of the City of London Police. Sergeant Coutts was about thirty with neat brown whiskers, while Constable Ellis was a younger man with a long face and a black moustache.

  Mr Chakravarty was occupied with a client when we arrived at his office in Change Alley. After a short wait we discovered that he was in a bad temper.

  “Is this regarding that Forster chap again?” he fumed. “I wish I’d never set eyes on the man, I really do. I lost a lot of money to him, and now even after his death I’m being hounded.” He paused and pointed a finger at me. “I’ve told this news reporter everything I know about him, and that was rather magnanimous of me given the circumstances in which we first met. The woman lied to me, Inspector!”

  “I take full responsibility for that, Mr Chakravarty,” James replied. “It was all my idea.”

  “It was a ridiculous idea! Call yourself an inspector of the Yard, do you? This is not how I expect Scotland Yard to conduct itself. And what are you doing in the company of a news reporter in the first place? Her kind are not to be trusted.”

  “You may also notice that I’m in the company of two other police officers,” said James. “Please mind your manners, Mr Chakravarty.”

  “Don’t patronise me, Inspector, I know full well how to mind my manners. What do you want?”

  “I should like to request that you accompany Sergeant Coutts here to the police station in Old Jewry. I plan to interview you there later this morning.”

  “Are you arresting me?”

  “No, this isn’t an arrest.”

  “Then I respectfully decline.”

  “In which case I should be forced to arrest you. I’m giving you the opportunity to attend the police station voluntarily, Mr Chakravarty.”

  The moneylender laughed out loud. “But if I don’t go I’ll be arrested? That doesn’t sound very voluntary to me, Inspector.”

  “You’re right, it’s not. But your reputation is at stake, and a voluntary attendance will surely sound better to your clients than an arrest.”

  Mr Chakravarty gave this some thought. “I can’t disagree with you on that front, Inspector, but what am I supposed to have done? You don’t think I murdered that chap and his wife, do you?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Do you consider me a suspect?”

  “Until you’re able to clear up a few matters for us, yes.”

  “You think I bludgeoned the man’s wife, then stabbed him in the back? Do I look like someone who would do such a thing?”

  “No, but you could have paid a gang to do it.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my money, especially having already lost so much on the man! What would I have to gain by murdering him?”

  “I can’t be sure until we’ve talked about it in greater detail. Revenge, perhaps, or maybe you were hoping to reclaim your losses from his estate.”

  “Believe me, Inspector, I have better ways to spend my time. I may be angry that he defrauded me, but I know how to write off my losses. It’s part of the job.”

  “Good, then please accompany Sergeant Coutts to the station and I shall meet you there shortly,” said James. “I just have one other matter to attend to first.”

  “It will be interesting to hear how Mr Chakravarty conducts himself during his interview,” I said to James as we made our way to Sheridan and Company in Lombard Court with the young constable following c
losely behind.

  “It will indeed. I can’t work the man out at all.”

  “I can imagine him being cold-hearted enough to organise a murder,” I said.

  Lombard Court was only a short walk from Change Alley, and I could see that the young constable was impressed by the opulent decor of Sheridan and Company.

  “Mr Sheridan is currently unavailable, Inspector,” said Miss Wainman.

  “Can you tell me when he might be able to make himself available?”

  “He’s not in the building at the present time.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Miss Wainman. When will he be available to answer a few of our questions?”

  “I’m unable to say, Inspector, as I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  James placed his card on her well-polished desk. “When he returns, can you please ask him to attend Old Jewry police station as a matter of urgency?”

  “I will do.”

  “Have you seen him at all today?”

  “Briefly, but then he went out somewhere. He doesn’t always tell me what he’s doing.”

  “It really is urgent, Miss Wainman. I expect to see him at Old Jewry later today. If he doesn’t turn up we’ll have to arrest him, and I’m sure that would cause great embarrassment for the man and all his colleagues.”

  She nodded in reply.

  “Constable Ellis and I had better go back to Old Jewry now and speak to Chakravarty,” said James as we stood on Gracechurch Street. “I’m not sure what we’ll get from him; the chap seems quite impenetrable. If all goes to plan Mr Sheridan will join us there very soon.”

  “I’ll go to Euston,” I replied. “I’m growing increasingly worried about Emma Holland. I still don’t understand why Chief Inspector Cullen wanted those diaries.”

  “I plan to deal with Cullen once I’ve spoken to Chakravarty and Sheridan. You don’t need to have anything more to do with the man, Penny, especially after the way he treated you. I intend to make a formal complaint to Commissioner Dickson about it.”

  “Thank you, James.”

  “You can leave this with me now. Hopefully the case will be solved by the end of the day.”

  “Good luck.”

  We parted at the junction of Gracechurch Street and East Cheap. I made my way toward Monument Station, from which point I could travel by underground railway to Gower Street.

  “Penny!” I heard a shout from behind me and spun round to see James running straight at me. “I’ve changed my mind, I’m coming with you! I’ve left Constable Ellis waiting for Sheridan when he arrives. The train to Euston will be too slow; let’s hail a cab.”

  Chapter 66

  “What made you change your mind?” I asked James as the cab travelled along King William Street in the direction of the mayor’s residence, Mansion House.

  “I feel nervous about letting you out of my sight at the moment,” he replied. “And like you I wish to make sure that Emma Holland is all right. I haven’t met her yet, but the fact that she knows something about those diaries undoubtedly puts her at risk.”

  “Thank you for coming with me,” I said with a smile, “especially when you have so many other things to be doing at the moment.”

  “Hopefully this won’t take long. My only regret is that I haven’t brought my revolver with me. Cullen asked me to hand it over to him at the house in Haringay. Let’s just hope that I shan’t need it.”

  Emma’s maid Doris answered the door and instantly recognised us from our visit the previous week.

  “Crikey, Miss ’Olland’s popular today,” she said. “She’s got visitors at the moment, but I can pass a message on for yer.”

  “We’d prefer to wait if that’s all right,” said James. “Will she be long?”

  “’Opefully not.”

  We stepped into the hallway and I saw that the door to the parlour was closed. I noticed two top hats and a bowler hat on the hallway table. There was a cane in the umbrella stand bearing a familiar mother-of-pearl top.

  “You can wait in the back room if yer like,” said the maid. “Miss ’Olland’s just in the parlour.”

  “Thank you,” said James.

  “The cane in that umbrella stand looks familiar,” I said quietly as we walked toward the back room. “My brother-in-law has one just like it.”

  “The same brother-in-law who has been doing legal work for Mr Sheridan?”

  “Yes.” My heart began to pound, and I stopped sharply in the hallway. “It couldn’t be him, could it?”

  “Excuse me,” James called out to the retreating form of the maid. “Is Miss Holland’s visitor Mr Sheridan, by any chance?”

  She turned in surprise.

  “Yeah, d’you know ’im?”

  James strode back toward the parlour.

  “Inspector?” called the maid.

  I followed in James’ footsteps. He pushed open the door without knocking and I stepped into the room close behind him.

  There was a stunned silence as Mr Sheridan stared at us from an easy chair beside the fireplace. On the other side of the fireplace sat George, and on the settee next to Emma Holland was Chief Inspector Cullen.

  He regarded us with a deep scowl.

  “Have you never been taught to knock at a door before opening it, Blakely?”

  Chapter 67

  Emma Holland gave me a nervous smile, but I could see how intimidated she felt sitting alone in the room with three gentlemen.

  “May I ask what your business with Miss Holland is, sir?” James asked Chief Inspector Cullen.

  “None of your business, that’s for sure. Leave us in peace, Blakely, I’ll deal with you later.”

  “I would hazard a guess that you’re discussing Alfred Holland’s diaries,” continued James. “Are you trying to find out what Miss Holland knows?”

  Emma Holland gave a slight nod, clearly too nervous to speak.

  Mr Sheridan stood to his feet and held out his hand for James to shake.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you… Inspector Blakely, is it?” he said. “And I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Miss Green before. Miss Green, you’re well acquainted with your brother-in-law Mr Billington-Grieg, of course! We have ensured that Miss Holland has legal representation during this interview, so all is being conducted properly. I asked Mr Billington-Grieg to accompany us and advise her accordingly.”

  “Advise her on what, exactly?” asked James.

  “She’s being interviewed by a police officer, and I wanted to ensure that everything was carried out in the proper way.”

  I stared at George, who looked distinctly uneasy.

  “There’s no need to explain yourself any further to this junior detective, Mr Sheridan. He was just about to leave,” said Chief Inspector Cullen, “along with his scribbling friend.”

  “Aren’t you wondering how we got here, Chief Inspector?” I asked. “The last time I saw you was late yesterday afternoon at a house in North London. Your men snatched me from the street and took me there blindfolded.”

  Emma Holland gasped.

  “I suppose you hoped I would remain there as some sort of prisoner,” I continued. “You had already managed to persuade James that it was too dangerous for him to leave.”

  “And I can see that the foolish man paid my advice no heed.”

  “You tried to keep Miss Green a prisoner, Chief Inspector Cullen?” asked Mr Sheridan with a shocked expression.

  “Not a prisoner… she’s exaggerating. It was for her own protection, but like Blakely she has chosen to ignore the advice of a senior detective with more than thirty years’ experience in the Metropolitan Police. Now take yourself and this wretched woman out of here, Blakely. We need to resume our conversation with Miss Holland.”

  “They can stay,” said Emma, her voice wavering. “This is my home and I say they must stay and tell me why they were taken to a house in North London.”

  “You can listen to whatever they have to say for themselves, Miss Holland,” he said,
“but I fear they will paint a ridiculous picture of misery designed to elicit your sympathy. They cannot understand the complicated lengths a police officer must occasionally go to during the course of his work.”

  I quickly explained what had happened to Emma, and I could see that both Mr Sheridan and George were clearly surprised.

  “That’s dreadful, Penny!” said Emma.

  “What did I tell you, Miss Holland? This story was designed to pull at your heartstrings,” said Chief Inspector Cullen.

  “And all of it true,” I added.

  “Well, it’s a step too far, I should say,” Mr Sheridan stated emphatically. “Not your finest hour, Cullen.”

  The chief inspector glared at him in response.

  “What is your concern with Alfred Holland’s diaries, sir?” James asked him.

  “As I’ve explained to Miss Green, they contain secret information that must be contained.”

  “Secret in what sense?” asked James.

  “In the sense that it could fall into the wrong hands.”

  “And which wrong hands did you have in mind?” James probed.

  “I feel no need to explain the details of my investigation to the likes of you.”

  “Do you have any ideas about these wrong hands, Mr Sheridan?” asked James.

  “None, I’m afraid.”

  “May I ask what your interest in Alfred Holland’s diaries might be?”

  “Don’t answer that, Sheridan. Let me deal with this man,” Cullen said, standing to his feet and striding over to James. “Consider yourself dismissed, Blakely. Your services are no longer required by the Yard.”

  “What is the reason for my dismissal, sir?”

  “For your continual disobedience. The Metropolitan Police has no need for men like you.”

  “I obey orders when they’re given in the true spirit of policing, sir.”

  “You cannot pick and choose which orders you obey,” spat Chief Inspector Cullen.

  “I believe I can when those orders come from a superior who fails to act in the best interests of his profession.”