Three Bodies in London

by L. A. Nisula

  “You would have found these, wrapped in paper, as if I were trying to dispose of them. But they came in the post, they were addressed to me.” I stared at the card on his desk. “And you wouldn’t have believed that. Not if the card had fallen off and no postage anywhere. And if it was sitting on the dresser, you wouldn’t have known the card came from the parcel. Even worse if I hadn’t been suspicious and examined them closely enough to see the blood but had just put them away in a drawer for you to find... Mrs. Fitzpatrick would have remembered bringing it up, but you couldn’t have been sure this was what was in the parcel she brought up. So you think someone knew you had the warrant?”

  He nodded. “It wouldn’t be hard to guess that I would try to search your flat, but still, finding these there would have looked very bad for you.”

  “And now?”

  “You brought them to me. That’s something. And you do have the card and Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s testimony.”

  That made me feel a little better. “So what now?”

  “I am going to place a call to my counterparts in Cleveland and see if such a shop exists and if they’ve recently sent any gloves to England. Also if they have a record of a certain Cassandra Pengear having purchased a pair of suede gloves from them. If you’ll excuse me.” He paused then asked, “You don’t happen to know any policemen there, do you?”

  “No, I never seem to get mixed up in murders when I’m there, except at the library, of course. And the time my aunt’s fiancé tried to kill her.”

  “I am going to assume those are all literary. I’ll probably be by to question you once I have some information.”

  “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Inspector Burrows smiled. “I’m partial to Earl Grey.”

  I took that as a hint to leave, and as I realized he needed me to move before he could get out from behind his desk, I obliged.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  When I got back to Nell Lane, I found that Milly hadn’t returned. Normally I wouldn’t have minded, but I did want to ask her about the gloves. Mainly if she’d heard of the shop. The blood made it highly unlikely that they were something we’d gotten through any legitimate means, if her using my name could be considered legitimate, and also rather unlikely that Mr. Farmington was involved. But she might have heard of the shop or know something about it, which might be helpful to Inspector Burrows as he looked into it. I fixed myself a pot of tea, debated going out to get something to go with it, decided Milly would probably return for a fleeting moment the minute I was gone and chose one of my new books to distract me.

  The book didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. Nothing wrong with the story, I simply had too much on my mind. I stared at my cup. Someone had gone to the trouble of getting a pair of gloves from a shop in Cleveland. The only reason to do that was to implicate either me or Milly. Assuming the shop was real. It likely was. The first thing Inspector Burrows had done was ask was if I had been to the shop; the second had been to say he was going to contact the police in Cleveland to find out about the shop, if I had purchased the gloves, and when. Even if he hadn’t gone so far as to contact the shop, any lawyer I hired would, and if the shop didn’t exist, it would be obvious that I had been framed. A simple check of a phone directory would give someone the information and would have allowed the killer to find out where they could purchase the gloves.

  But how had they done it? That was the question. It took a good bit of time to have anything delivered from America, and I had only gotten mixed up in the case yesterday. Even if they had decided I was trouble when I started looking into the bird, there wouldn’t have been enough time to order the gloves and have them delivered. And if they had been a brand that was large enough to be exported to shops outside of Cleveland, I would have heard of them even if I’d never bought them. So how had they gotten the gloves?

  Perhaps they weren’t from Cleveland at all but something bought in London with the labels cut off and new ones sewn in. Then all they would have needed was a business directory of Cleveland, and I was sure that could be found somewhere in London. That must have been it.

  But how did that help me? They’d been a fairly generic pair of gloves, which would make it hard to confirm where they had come from. I supposed it made it perfectly clear that someone had been trying to frame me, so it did help in that way, but it didn’t bring us any closer to finding the killer, and that was what we needed.

  Perhaps I didn’t need to find where they came from, only where they hadn’t.

  I glanced over at the stack of newspapers. I’d had one from Cleveland with me to read while I’d been waiting to get on the boat, and I’d left it for Milly in case she wanted to read news from home. It was still sitting on the small end table where I’d left it. I retrieved it and spread it out on the floor so I could go through it page by page. I ignored the stories and paid attention to the advertisements.

  In the back of the Arts section, I found it. A small ad for ladies’ gloves, Miss Stearn’s Fine Ladieswear, top quality, elegant styling, best prices, 11302 Euclid Ave. That was it. I did my best to remember the tag I had seen sewn inside the gloves. I was fairly certain the font was all wrong, although it wasn’t possible to be completely certain as I didn’t have the tag in front of me and they were both similar-script fonts, although they were both also similar to the kinds of fonts used to advertise most ladies’ items. There was also a small logo. That was easy to spot. Instead of the rather insipid cherubs of the pair in Inspector Burrow’s possession, the real logo was an elegantly gloved, if dismembered, hand holding a carnation. So someone had found the name of a shop in Cleveland and made up a fake label to put in a pair of gloves bought in London. I made certain there was nothing on the back of the advertisement that Milly or I would want to read, then carefully folded along the edges and tore it out of the newspaper. Inspector Burrows would no doubt want to see it at once.

  I was just getting my hat pinned back in place when I heard Milly unlocking the door. “You don’t have to do that, you know, lock the door. This is a very secure building.”

  “I am being framed for murder. That tends to make me jumpy.” I wouldn’t have left the door unlocked anyway, but it made a good excuse.

  “I suppose it is a bit unnerving. Still, you’ll get through it. Look how well I did.”

  I ignored the last remark. “I’m glad you got here before I left. Have you ever heard of a shop back home called Miss Stearn’s?”

  Milly started pulling off her gloves and coat. “It sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t think I’ve ever been there. Maybe I’ve walked past it. Why?”

  “Someone sent me a pair of gloves with labels from there.”

  “That was nice of them.”

  “They had blood on them.”

  Milly paused with her coat half off. “That wasn’t so nice. Where are they now?”

  “Scotland Yard. Inspector Burrows has them.”

  Milly went back to taking off her coat. “Best place for them, then. Why would they send them to you?”

  I gave her a brief description of the day I’d been having, including what Miss Ferris had told me about the bird, and ending by showing her the advertisement I’d cut out of the paper.

  “You’ve made progress, that’s good.” Milly took the clipping from me. “It’s vaguely familiar, but I’ve never been there or bought anything from there. I’ve probably passed it a time or two and looked in the window. That’s probably why I recognize it.”

  “I thought it would be something along those lines. I’m going to go back to Scotland Yard and bring this to the inspector.”

  “I’d offer to come with you, but I’ve been out all day and I just want to sit with a nice cup of tea and rest.”

  I had the feeling she wanted me to ask where she’d been, but I wanted to get to Scotland Yard before Inspector Burrows left, and one of Milly’s stories could very well make that impossible, so I said, “I just made a fresh pot. It’s warming on the hob.”

  “Just wha
t I needed. If you think of it on your way back, some fish and chips wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” Although I wasn’t planning on stopping for any.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  When I returned to Scotland Yard, it was to find the lines as long as ever. I’d hoped that so late in the day they would be a bit more manageable. Hoped, but not expected, so I was pleasantly surprised to find that, when I reached the head of the line, the clerk found my name on the first list he consulted, which seemed to mean I was to be sent directly to the detectives’ floor rather than filling out more paperwork. Clearly, something I had told Inspector Burrows had seemed valuable. Or he was hoping I would decide to confess to the whole thing and wanted to make it as easy as possible. In any case, when I got to the detectives’ floor, there was no one waiting for me, but I remembered the general direction of his office, and since it was labeled with his name, had very little trouble finding it. I knocked and waited until I heard him call out “Enter,” before opening the door.

  “Miss Pengear, did you forget something, or stumble over another crime scene?” He sounded like he was joking, which I took to be a good sign.

  “I found an advertisement for Miss Stearn’s Fine Ladieswear in the newspaper I brought from home. Their logo is nothing like the one on the tag, and I think the name is in a different typeface. I brought it so you could see it.” I took the clipping out of my handbag and held it out.

  Inspector Burrows took the clipping and looked at it then turned and took a box from behind his chair. I recognized it as containing evidence from the case. He pulled out the gloves and compared the tag to the advertisement. “Definite differences. Of course, they could have several lines, each with their own logos, but the style is quite different, and I do think you’re right about the typeface, both of which make that less likely.”

  “So someone in London went to the trouble of finding the name of a real shop in Cleveland, buying a pair of gloves in a shade that would make dried blood difficult to spot, and sewing a fake label into them, then delivering them to my rooms at a time when they thought I’d be in prison, and early enough that they’d be there when you were searching my rooms, all to frame me.”

  “Don’t forget making the label and going to the trouble of finding out where you’re from and where you’re staying in London, and all between the time you were arrested and the gloves being delivered the next day. And then there’s the procuring of the blood to smear on them and the smearing itself. That’s quite a job.”

  “Something the real killer might have done.”

  He nodded. “I need to get to the door.”

  I moved so he could manage it and listened as he called for Constable Jones, who seemed to have a desk nearby, and asked him to run down to the records room. “I need their file on the Hopp Lane case, and a list of everyone who’s checked it out. Also anything they have on Miss Pengear that might be stored separately from the file and a list of who’s requested that as well.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Inspector Burrows came back into his office. “I know no one’s looked at my copy of the file, not unless they picked the lock on my office door and my file box, or turned themselves invisible, so they had to have gotten their hands on the records room file. Hopefully, they had to check it out properly, so they’ll be on the list.”

  He didn’t tell me to leave, so I took that to mean he didn’t mind if I stayed to see what he found out, or that he knew I wouldn’t have left without knowing who might be trying to frame me. As we sat waiting for Constable Jones to return, I tried going through all the people who seemed to be involved, trying to figure out who could have had access to the police files. That led me to realize there were quite a few things I hadn’t had time to tell Inspector Burrows. I wondered which of them would be of the most use. Probably the most curious. “There was something else I forgot to tell you.” I could tell he wanted to say something that would irritate me, so I went on quickly, “I consulted a tinkerer about the mechanical bird that started all this.”

  “Being arrested and having a pair of bloody gloves sent to you didn’t convince you that shouldn’t be poking around in police business?”

  “It was before the gloves arrived. And being arrested makes this very much my business.” I noticed the way he’d phrased it. “Do you think the gloves were a threat?”

  “It’s a possibility, although not one I’m particularly fond of. I think they would have made the blood more obvious if it were a threat. Still, it’s a possibility. I’m almost afraid to ask what you found out.”

  I decided to take that as him asking. “A friend of a friend works at the main post office in the tinkering department. She said the gear had to be intentionally flipped. It wouldn’t have fit in without being modified. So the bird was meant to go to the scene of the murder, not the scene of the robbery.”

  “Interesting, although I’m not sure what that means, or how a broken bird connects to the crimes other than bringing you to the scene.”

  “Neither do I,” I admitted, “but it does seem odd. And she managed to see what had been sent. A small rubber cabbage.”

  “A rubber cabbage? You mean some sort of child’s toy? That was it?”

  I nodded. “That and the blank paper it was wrapped in.”

  He sighed. “This case makes less sense than it did before you walked in. But I don’t see what that could have to do with anything. Still, it is odd. And quite the coincidence that the bird ends up at the scenes of two unrelated crimes.”

  “You don’t like odd?”

  “I like odd. Odd is frequently useful. It’s coincidences I don’t like. No detective does. When they happen on their own, they make the case needlessly complicated, and when they’re manufactured, they mean someone is trying to complicate the case.”

  We were interrupted by Constable Jones returning with the file. He handed it over to Inspector Burrows. “O’Neal says that’s all of it, and the whole list as far as he can see.”

  “Thanks. I’ll bring it back down myself.” Inspector Burrows opened the file to the last page as Constable Jones left, but the angle he held it at meant I couldn’t read what it said. But he didn’t tell me to leave, so perhaps he was still considering sharing the information with me. We’d been quiet for several minutes when he said, “Now, why would he be looking at this?”

  I leaned over. “Who?”

  Inspector Burrows pulled the folder back.

  “If someone is trying to frame me for murder, don’t you think I should know who it is?”

  Inspector Burrows sighed. “Mr. Whitely. He works for the Prescott Insurance Company, investigating claims.”

  “But why would he be looking at my file? There wasn’t anything stolen, was there?”

  “Not that we know of. And the owner would have to report it to us if they were making a claim. I suppose he could have requested the wrong file.”

  “And the other names?”

  Inspector Burrows tipped the file so I could see it. His name was on the list several times, along with Constable Jones and Constable Lipson. Inspector Peterson had requested it once, but I assumed he’d recognized the name and was curious. I could understand that.

  “Lakra and Barnes are both in the evidence room,” Inspector Burrows added, “and Reilly is a transcriptionist. Peterson is a question...”

  “He was the detective on Milly’s case.”

  “So he recognized the name. I see.”

  “So all people with a good reason to see it.”

  “And terrible suspects.” He closed the folder. “I’ll bring this back down to the file room and ask if there’s any way someone else could have seen it without their name being recorded. Now, Miss Pengear, it’s well-past visiting time, so unless you have some other information you’ve forgotten about...”

  “No, I should be getting home. I was supposed to bring fish and chips for dinner.” I still wasn’t planning to, but it made an excuse.

  “I’ll wa
lk you down to the lobby, then. You can use the staff lift if you’re with me. It’s faster.”

  The staff elevator was indeed faster, particularly as there was no one waiting for it. Inspector Burrows rode down with me then walked with me to the small gate that separated the restricted area from the rest of the lobby.

  As I was passing through the gate, I was surprised to see Miss Shepherd and Miss Ferris waiting for me in the otherwise deserted lobby. “Miss Prynne said you were here,” Miss Shepherd said when she spotted me.

  “And we had some news,” Miss Ferris added. She glanced at Inspector Burrows without really looking at him. He took the hint and went to the desk to look at something I was sure was random and of absolutely no interest to him. I nodded for them to go on as we started walking towards the exit.

  “Remember I said I was going to watch the bird and see who took it?” Miss Ferris asked. “Well, no one has, which seemed odd since they usually get claimed pretty quickly. So I went and had a look at the work logs, to see who had been claiming them before. It was always the same fellow, Joe Bennett. He always takes the birds with broken map gears that have crashed, and repairs them.”

  “That sounds promising. Did you find out why he does?”

  “I tried to, but when I went to his work station to talk to him, they told me he’s been missing for two days.”

  “Missing for two days?” Inspector Burrows asked from the desk. So he had been listening to us. I’d rather expected him to.

  “Not properly missing, at least I don’t think so,” Miss Ferris said. “Just not at work, and someone telephoned his building and they didn’t answer. Not that that means anything; Bennett installed the telephone himself so it might just be that it’s not working.”

  “Nonetheless, would you mind having a look at a body?”