Three Bodies in London

by L. A. Nisula

  The desk on my left was occupied by a man looking through a book in the distracted way that told me he didn’t have anything to do but was trying to look busy. The man at the desk beside him was sorting through a stack of envelopes, making stacks of the contents and marking them off of a list. Before I could decide if any of that was useful, the man at the desk to my left noticed me. He got up and crossed to the entry area where I was standing.

  “Can I help you, miss? Mr. Emrick.”

  The direct route seemed best, particularly as it was the only idea I had. “I hope so. I was hoping to find some information on Mr. Dently.”

  “I see. I don’t think I can help you there.”

  “But he did used to work here?” Best to be certain I was in the right place. The maid may have been mistaken in the name, or he might have lied about it.

  “Yes, but, well...”

  I realized he didn’t want to be the one to tell me Mr. Dently had died. As he was being so cautious about it, I tried to be delicate. “I am aware of why he is no longer here. In fact, that was why I was hoping to learn about him. To try and figure out who could have done such a terrible thing.” That seemed sufficiently polite and gave a good reason for my being nosey.

  “I see. Indeed. A terrible thing. But I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything. You might try the police. The inspector looking into it left his card. I can find it for you.”

  Had he gone into the back for the card, it would have given me the chance to poke around one of the desks, but he reached into his pocket and produced an over-stuffed wallet, so I said, “I think I know the inspector working on it. Can you think of anyone who might have wished him harm?”

  “Not at all. He did his work as he was supposed to, and we had no complaints. I’m sure whatever happened, it will turn out to be a random act. Some thief wanting his money, no doubt.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” I tried to look around the office as quickly as I could, hoping to spot something. There were three desks in the room, one that Mr. Emrick had been seated at, the one with a middle-aged man sorting his envelopes, and one that was empty. “Which was Mr. Dently’s desk?”

  Mr. Emrick seemed surprised by the question, but he answered, “The one by the bookcases.”

  So the only empty desk. I tried to see as much as I could from where I was standing while Mr. Emrick tried getting rid of me by saying, “I really don’t think the police want us to speak to anyone at the moment. I’m sure if you speak to the inspector...”

  The desk itself was empty except for the usual pens and blotter and such. Anything he’d been working on had already been taken away. But there was one odd thing. An overcoat draped over the back of the chair. I glanced at the rest of the desks. Both had overcoats draped over their chairs. Apparently, the hat stand was only used to hang hats, not coats. And Mr. Dently hadn’t taken his when he left the office the last time.

  I was trying to think of something else to ask when the man at the other desk said, “Your tickets, Mr. Emrick.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cantrell.” He crossed to the desk without saying anything else to me.

  “Are you going somewhere?” I asked. I wasn’t sure that was useful to know or not. I supposed, if he was the killer, he might want to get out of town.

  Mr. Emrick held up what was really quite a large stack of tickets for one person, even if they were on the run. “For my clients. The daily delivery from the stations.”

  I supposed that made sense. They couldn’t run to all the different train stations and pick up single tickets each time someone ordered one. And I could see Mr. Emrick was on the verge of apoplexy so I took pity on him, mainly because I didn’t think I could see anything else without someone willing to help, and it was clear he wasn’t willing, “Thank you for your time. I’ll speak to the inspector.”

  He looked so relieved that he was getting rid of me, I almost felt sorry for him. “Yes, that is the thing to do. Let me show you out. Terrible business. Terrible. But I’m certain he’ll get it all sorted out.”

  “Of course.” Then an idea struck me. “Do you know where Fairholt Lane is?”

  “Not far. Turn right when you get to the pavement, then take the second right. It shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes.”

  “Thank you.” So Mr. Dently had left his coat at his desk and had been killed not ten minutes from the office. It seemed I’d found at least one place with more connections to his murder than Paddington Street.

  Fairholt Lane was a small street off of a side street. Looking at it, I would have thought it was some sort of mews rather than a proper street, but there were a few small shops there and no horses. The spot where Mr. Dently had been found wasn’t readily identifiable, but a passing messenger boy was able to show me the spot the police had cordoned off the day before. He was quite disappointed that he hadn’t been around for any of the excitement and couldn’t tell me anything more, at least not from first-hand knowledge. What he did tell me was so exaggerated and unlikely, even he knew it barely qualified as gossip. Still, I knew where to start looking.

  The crime scene had been in a small gap between two buildings. It looked like the restaurant on one side normally set up tables there, but the weather had been so bad lately that they hadn’t bothered and the tables were all stacked at the end of the little area. A pity, or someone might have seen something. As it was, the area was just sheltered enough to be difficult to see from the shops around it. The only one which seemed to have an unobstructed view from its windows was the cobbler directly across, and I could see the shades were already drawn and the shop was locked-up tight. If I decided I wanted to question them, I would have to come back another day.

  I turned my attention back to the small area of pavement, but nothing caught my eye. It was an odd place to kill someone, and an odd place for him to be to begin with. How had a thief lured him into the little alley? And where had he been going in such a hurry without his overcoat? Both were excellent questions, but no answers presented themselves. At least I had a couple of things I could bring to the inspector’s attention, things which pointed away from Paddington Street and therefore Kate’s landlady. By then it was getting late, so I found my way back to the Underground station.

  Back at Nell Lane, Milly’s rooms were empty, which was a bit unusual but welcome. I checked to see if she’d left a note—she hadn’t—and decided to wait to see if she was coming back soon before I decided what to do about dinner. That also gave me a bit of time to considered what I’d learned so far. It wasn’t much, but at least I could tell Kate I’d seen where Mr. Dently had been found and it was quite close to his office. That made the office the best place to look for answers. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had much luck getting anything out of Mr. Emrick. Perhaps Kate would have some idea how to go about it. Or perhaps I could find out when Mr. Emrick was out and try the other clerk. I assumed there was a Mr. Billings somewhere as well, but if he owned the company, he was probably the least likely to help.

  I was just thinking of going out for something to eat myself when the door opened and Milly burst in. “Cassie, you’ve been gone forever. I thought you’d gotten lost on the Underground or something.”

  For a moment, I thought she had actually been worried enough to go looking for me. Then I spotted the things sticking out of her shopping bags—a new pair of gloves and at least one new hat—and decided she hadn’t been that worried. “Kate had a bit of excitement at her building. Her landlady is being accused of murder.”

  “Another one? Well, I suppose it does keep things interesting. Why don’t we go to the pub and you can tell me all about it?”

  And no doubt pay for both our meals as well. But a pub meal sounded good after a day spent tracing a dead man’s life, so I nodded. “Why not? Maybe you’ll think of something Kate and I haven’t.”

  I wasn’t sure if Milly had heard the last bit or not as she was waving her bags around. “Just give me a moment to put my bags down, and we can be on our way.”


  I wasn’t surprised when the minute to put her bags down led to half-an-hour choosing a hat and finding the gloves to go with it, neither of which were the ones she’d just bought, but we did get underway eventually.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  When we were sitting at a table in a quiet corner of the pub and had gotten our food sorted out, I told Milly everything about my day so far, starting with finding the police at Kate’s building and ending with my foray to the offices of Billings and Sons. I wasn’t sure how much of what I said Milly heard, as she seemed to have most of her attention on a short man seated at the bar that was definitely not Mr. Radford and made me wonder if he was the reason she’d chosen this place, but she surprised me by saying something insightful.

  “It’s probably related to his office. If it was something at the boarding house, you’d already have all the answers. That sort of place is a hotbed of gossip, and the maid would be sure to have heard all of it.”

  “I agree, particularly about the boarding house. And the crime scene was just around the corner from the office building. But I suppose it could be connected to something outside the boarding house that isn’t the office. A hobby or something.”

  Milly still had her attention on the man. “What sort of hobby leads to murder?”

  “Any sort where there’s jealousy or money involved. Probably not a relationship, as I didn’t hear anything about one at the boarding house.”

  “He’d have to have done quite a bit of hiding to keep a paramour secret.”

  I poked at my fish. “Still, whoever it was must have come to the office, and he followed them out. Why else would he have left without his coat? I wish I’d been able to ask about it, but Mr. Emrick there couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

  “So you need to find some way back in. Pity you burned your bridges there today.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d have described it quite like that. I was going to point that out to Milly when she suddenly got to her feet. “Take your time finishing. I’ll meet you back at the flat.”

  I turned and saw the man she had been watching had also gotten up and was heading for the door. I knew there’d be no pursuing her to stay, so I settled in to finish my meal. At least she seemed to have gotten over Constable Jenkins, and now it seemed Mr. Radford. I debated whether or not to ask about him, then decided I’d rather not know.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  I was still sleeping on Milly’s couch, so I heard her come in late that night, around when the theatres would let out, and ignored it. I was more worried when I heard her leaving early the next morning, but not worried enough to rouse myself from under the blankets where I’d just gotten comfortable. So I wasn’t particularly surprised to wake up a couple of hours later and find myself alone in the apartment. At least now that I was living there, we had food in the cupboards more often than not, and I was able to make myself some tea and toast before I decided if I ought to be worrying about Milly or not. She hadn’t returned by the time I’d finished my breakfast, so I decided to put off worrying until I was dressed and able to do something about it, if I decided it was worth doing something about.

  I was just putting my hair up when I heard the door to the apartment slam open. Only Milly could manage that.

  “Cassie, I’ve done it.”

  I was very much hoping it was something I could ignore, but with Milly, it rarely was, so I called out, “What have you done?”

  Milly burst into the bedroom. “Figured out how to get us into Billings and Sons. You said you wished there was some way you could get inside and look around their files, so I went this morning to have a look myself. They had a sign on their door that they were looking for a transcriptionist, so I went in and applied, and they hired me on the spot.”

  I didn’t quite remember saying any of that, although it would probably be helpful. And I could immediately see several problems with the idea. “Do you know how to type?”

  “No, but you do.”

  “And do we have a typewriter?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out. We did decide that the office was the best place to look for clues.”

  I wasn’t sure we had decided that, but it was close to Fairholt Lane, and Fairholt Lane was certainly a good place for clues. “I suppose I could ask Kate or Ada.”

  “Of course. One of them is bound to have one. Oh, that’s disappointing. And you were wrong about the coat.”

  I assumed those were three separate ideas. Milly did tend to jump around when she thought she was onto a good scheme. I asked, “What?” and let her sort out which to tell me about first.

  “I thought these were candy, but they’re just cough drops.” She held up a handful of brightly-wrapped lozenges. “I don’t know why you would put out cough drops out on a desk for people to take.”

  I sighed. They did look like candy from a distance, particularly as all the wrappers were all different colors, but that wasn’t helping with the case. “Maybe they were for whoever was sitting at the desk?”

  “Oh no, they were on the reception desk by the door, and they don’t have a receptionist, I asked.”

  “Then maybe someone bought the wrong thing.” I tried to steer her back to what seemed to be the important idea. “You said the coat wasn’t his? Then why was it on his chair?”

  “Oh, it was his, but he didn’t leave it there running out to meet his killer. He’d given a client the wrong address for a hotel in Copenhagen and ran out after him to try and correct the mistake.”

  “And didn’t they wonder when he didn’t come back?”

  “I didn’t ask that. But you can when we go and drop off the typing.”

  “If I can find a typewriter.”

  “Wonderful. I have all the papers here.” She dropped a folder of handwritten papers on the couch. If they had been in any order to begin with, they no longer were. I brought them over to the table and started to go through the jumble.

  By the time I’d gotten the papers sorted, I’d realized the notes I was working on were in the same handwriting as the 334 Paddington St. note Inspector Wainwright had shown us and so probably belonged to Mr. Dently, and Milly had gotten bored with the project and decided she’d done more than enough by coming up with it. That meant that when I told her I was going to try to secure a typewriter, she had no interest in coming along, which suited me just fine.

  Kate answered the door when I got to Paddington Street, holding what appeared to be the part of a telephone you put up to your ear, although this one didn’t end in a telephone but a tangle of wires. “Hello, Cassie, have you solved it yet?”

  “I’m afraid not.” I followed her inside and immediately noticed a strong smell of cigar smoke that hadn’t been there on my last visit. I supposed one of the other tenants was in, although Mrs. Albright hadn’t struck me as the sort who would allow strong cigars in her building. “Milly came up with a plan to see some of the files at Mr. Dently’s office,” I explained the plan, which sounded less sensible the more times I repeated it, “so I thought I’d see if you or Ada had a typewriter. Then I thought, if we put all of our facts together, we might stumble on something none of us could see on our own.”

  “I do have a typewriter upstairs. It’s a plain manual one that I made a couple of modifications to. You’re welcome to it. Just let me know if you have any suggestions for improvement.”

  I wondered if I ought to be worried about Kate’s improvements, but I wasn’t going to lose my chance at a typewriter. “Thanks.”

  “No trouble. I was working on the telephone cabinet, but that can wait. I just shoved everything inside this morning so no one would trip over it moving boxes, then it occurred to me that it’s highly unlikely Mrs. Albright will replace me with another tinkerer. Actually, I don’t think she’ll be replacing me with anyone, and I don’t think she’ll want to be left with what’s there now, which is mainly a coat cupboard that no longer functions as one. But I could definitely use a tea break. And she’s been baking again, so there�
�s bound to be something good.”

  I assumed the moving boxes must have something to do with the smell of cigars. It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder what would happen to Kate’s flat after she left, but now that she mentioned it, it reminded me that, if I was planning on staying in London, I would need someplace to live. And as staying with Milly wasn’t an attractive prospect, that meant finding someplace of my own. And if Kate could afford the flat, it might be something. “You don’t think she’ll take another tenant?”

  “Not in my flat. Mrs. Albright doesn’t usually let it since it’s small and rather awkward, but when I came to London, I knew I’d have a bit of trouble finding a tinkering job, and I was a bit broke, so I was looking for something cheap. She was advertising for someone to take the second floor flat, so I came and pretended to have a look at it, then managed to convince her to let me take the small third floor one cheap in exchange for doing some tinkering around the place. She has the best locks in Marylebone on this building, although you wouldn’t know it from the outside; that’s an invitation to thieves. And her kitchen has all the latest conveniences. And I’ve almost got this cupboard converted to a telephone cabinet.”

  So, highly unlikely I’d be able to convince her to let me have it. “Sounds like she got a good deal.”

  “I like to think so. And the location is marvelous. The Underground is practically around the corner, and the high street has most of what you need, and Oxford Street’s just a bit farther on. Three of the fellows asked about it this morning, but they all lost interest as soon as Mrs. Albright came out to complain about the cigars. Give me one second, and I’ll have this put where it ought to be.” This did not appear to relate to the part she was holding, as she merely wrapped the wires so they wouldn’t tangle and put it down on the small table with the mail. I waited by the stairs while Kate finished something with the telephone cupboard that didn’t seem to bring it any closer to working, then followed her down the hallway to Mrs. Albright’s flat.