by L. A. Nisula
“And how would he know Mr. Dently would take one at all, let alone one of the ones he’d poisoned?”
That was a good question. “Perhaps he always took... No, then he’d be as likely to take the unpoisoned ones. What if he didn’t like the unpoisoned ones? Mr. Emrick could have known that. And the poisoned ones were something he would take. But then he would have had to buy both the cough drops and the candy himself. Milly didn’t ask that. And how would he know Mr. Dently would take one?” I leaned against the bedpost again. Inspector Wainwright groaned and leaned back against the cushions. I glanced in his directions to make certain a doctor wasn’t needed, then went back to thinking. “How is your cough?”
“What?”
“Your cough, how is it?”
“It was just an allergy.”
“To what? It sounded bad enough before.”
“Cigar smoke,” he muttered.
“And the fellows moving Kate’s boxes had been smoking in the entryway. Is that normal for you?”
He made a sound that I took to mean it was but he didn’t like to admit to it.
“What about Mr. Dently’s office? Did you have an attack there as well?”
“To the smoke around the reception desk.” He sat straight up. “The place was full of it. Cigars. I thought one of them had been smoking a cigar, but it must have been a whole box.”
“Enough to make anyone’s throat scratchy. To make them decide to take a candy from the desk. And if they were poisoned... Why did you take the one you did?”
“I don’t know. It was there.” So he had taken it from Billings and Sons.
“It wasn’t forced on you?”
“No, it was not forced on me.”
“I don’t mean at knifepoint, I mean like a magician’s card trick.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Maybe the scratchy throat was enough. The cough drops Milly brought home had a medicinal look to them. Maybe it was instinct to grab that thing that looked most likely to help. Or maybe they were his brand of cough drops. And if the poison came from Billings and Sons, then maybe the reference to Paddington is there too.” Remembering Milly had brought the cough drops home also reminded me that she might have tried them. Although Inspector Wainwright seemed to think the poison was fast-acting, and she had been perfectly fine for quite a while now, so perhaps she hadn’t had enough to hurt her. Or hadn’t actually tried it at all. So perhaps I didn’t need to run straight home and warn her about them.
Inspector Wainwright would have been very disappointed to know he was interrupting me as I was considering rushing back to Nell Lane. “You’re forgetting one very important thing; Mr. Dently wasn’t poisoned.”
That brought me right back to the case. I supposed I had assumed that, but I still managed a good bit of indignation as I said, “And how was I to know that when you won’t tell me anything?”
Inspector Wainwright looked annoyed, but it took me a moment to realize he was annoyed with himself for letting that information slip out and not with me for a change. That encouraged me to try another question.
“So just how did he die?”
Inspector Wainwright sighed. “A blow to the head. Will that be enough to satisfy you?”
That certainly didn’t sound like poisoning from a bit of candy, but I wasn’t ready to admit that to Inspector Wainwright. I leaned against the foot of the bed again, ready to ask him something else as soon as I thought of it, and had a sudden vision of him leaning against the stair railing on Paddington Street. And then again in the mews, leaning against the wall. I could easily imagine Mr. Dently leaning in just such a way in the little alley where he’d been found as the poison took hold. And if no one had been there to summon a doctor, to get him to a hospital... “Was it a blow to the front of the head or the back?”
Inspector Wainwright leaned back against his pillows. “I knew that wouldn’t satisfy you. I don’t know why I bothered trying. Front. Will you leave now? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a very sick man.”
“Who was eating bangers and mash not so long ago. Would the wound have been consistent with him falling forward? Say he was leaning against the wall in the little alley when the poison started working, felt faint, fell forward, hit his head on one of the downspouts poking out of the restaurant, or even the cobbles of the street. It’s been rainy. The blood could have washed away before you were able to look for it. Would cyanide be found in the post mortem?”
Inspector Wainwright closed his eyes. “Not if they didn’t look for it.” He sighed again—something he seemed to do quite a bit of when I was around—then said, “Go outside and tell the constable on duty I want to see him, then please leave.”
So he was going to follow up on my clue. And if the cough drops were poisoned, Mrs. Albright was cleared. She certainly hadn’t poisoned them. I went out into the corridor and returned with Constable Edwards. I stayed by the door as Inspector Wainwright dispatched him to find someone to take a message to Scotland Yard about checking for poison, then returned to my place at the foot of his bed.
“I thought you were leaving.”
I ignored him. That seemed to be the best way to deal with him. “We were discussing Mr. Dently’s office.”
“We were?”
“Well, it seems obvious he was poisoned there. It took about ten minutes for you to be overtaken, and that is just how long it would take to get to Fairholt Lane, so it makes sense. And that means the Paddington reference might very well be to something there.”
“A possibility I already investigated. How else do you think I ended up with poisoned cough drops?”
A fair point, not that I would tell him that. “What did you check?”
“I assure you, Miss Pengear, I was very thorough.”
Clearly, that wasn’t good enough for me. “Could it have been an invoice number of some kind?”
“With Paddington listed? Besides, they’re all six digits.”
I wasn’t sure if he’d intended to give me that bit of information or not, but it seemed the way to get the details of the case from him was by pretending I thought he’d missed something. “What about a reference to a ledger of some kind?”
“They’re all marked with dates.”
“A client?”
“Filed by name.”
I tried to think of anything about a client that it could refer to, but all I could think of was an address, and that was precisely what I was trying to get him away from. “What about an appointment?”
“Not punctuated correctly for a time, and quite specific for one. Now, if you’ve quite finished, Miss Pengear.”
I tried desperately to come up with something else, but it was such an odd number, and there weren’t all that many things Paddington could refer to. “I do think that’s where the answer is, and where the poison came from.”
“I will take that under advisement.” Which I knew meant he would ignore it completely. But it did leave me with some very interesting things to think about. And that meant I needed a little time alone to think.
“Then I will leave you to your bangers and mash.”
“You’re leaving, then?”
He sounded so pleased that I couldn’t help replying, “Unless you’d rather I stay.”
“No, I wouldn’t want to keep you from whatever you’ve thought of, particularly as I’m quite certain it isn’t investigating. Although if you pass a nurse, you could send them in.”
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked. He’d seemed well enough while we’d been arguing, but he had just been poisoned, and it was possible I’d annoyed him enough to cause some of the symptoms to return.
“I need to find out where they’re keeping my clothes. I’ve been here long enough.”
So something I’d said made him want to investigate again. Hopefully, something that would point away from Mrs. Albright, although it would probably be wise for me to think over what I’d just learned and try to find some way to connect it all together
before he decided there was nothing to connect and went back to his original theory. “I would think the matron would know. I’ll send her over on my way out.”
That seemed to placate him, although it might simply have been the idea that I really was leaving. In any case, he sat back in the bed and stopped glaring quite so much, both of which I took as good signs. I hurried out of the room, giving the constable on duty a sympathetic smile as I went past.
The matron was at her desk as I approached the staircase. She looked up when she heard my footsteps and seemed about to turn back to her paperwork when she saw who it was, only to realize I was approaching her desk not going straight to the exit. “Is there a problem, miss?”
I wasn’t sure whether to classify Inspector Wainwright as a problem or not. “Inspector Wainwright wants his clothes.”
She put her pen back in its holder with an annoyed little shot, like someone throwing a dart a very short distance. “And what would he want those for?”
“I think he wants to go out and look for the culprit.”
That had the desired effect. “And him poisoned only yesterday? I think not.” She got up from behind the desk and marched off towards the rooms, looking more than capable of dealing with Inspector Wainwright. I hurried to the staircase, hoping the constable on duty would be able to get away before Inspector Wainwright was informed that he wasn’t getting his clothes just yet, but not about to wait around to find out.
I decided I was worried enough about Milly and the cough drops to skip my visit to Paddington Street and go directly back to Nell Lane. When I got back to the flat, Milly was gone, which I hoped meant she’d been feeling well enough to go shopping and not that she’d had some delayed reaction to the cyanide cough drops. It also meant I had a bit of time to think about what I’d learned from Inspector Wainwright.
The first thing I did was go into the bedroom and collect all of the cough drops she’d taken from Billings and Sons for the police. I wasn’t sure how many Milly had taken, but there were five on the dresser, and that did seem to be the most one could properly take from an office candy dish. I looked them over as I gathered them on the table near Kate’s typewriter. Just as Inspector Wainwright had said, they all had different sorts of labels, but they did all have something about them that suggested cough drop rather than candy. I wondered if that was part of it, that people coughing instinctively took the ones that looked medicinal, although that didn’t explain why Milly would do the same.
I was just realizing I really didn’t have anything more to think over when Milly swept into the sitting room and said, “I’ve solved your problem.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but what problem and how did you solve it?”
“Getting back into Billings and Sons, of course. I darted in while I was on my way to the shops and asked if they had any other work for me. I remembered what you said about those being Mr. Dently’s notes, so I suggested they might want someone to sort through his desk and pack up his files, and Mr. Billings said why not, so we’re in. And the police can’t complain if you come with me, and no one there will think it odd if I bring my cousin along, particularly if I mention we’re on our way to tea. You still have the typewriter, don’t you?”
“I do.” I hated to admit it, but it was the best plan I had for returning to Billings and Sons, although I wasn’t sure if I really needed to, as Mrs. Albright no longer seemed to be a suspect. Still, I might see something, and as long as Inspector Wainwright was stuck in the hospital, he couldn’t avoid me if I found something useful for him to look at.
Milly spent most of the trip to Billings and Sons making up a story for who I was and why I was accompanying her. I knew we wouldn’t need any of it, but it was easier to allow her to ramble on than to point that out. I wasn’t sure what all of the back story had been for—I had been cast as a hopelessly lost cousin from Boston that she had been forced to take to tea—as when we got to Billings and Sons she didn’t bother to introduce me at all, just went straight through to the office in back saying, “I’m sure Mr. Billings wouldn’t mind if I drop in for just a moment.” No one tried to stop her. Not that there was really anyone to stop her. Mr. Emrick wasn’t at his desk. That was something. He had been of no help at all the last time, and I didn’t particularly want someone telling me to go to Inspector Wainwright for answers. The other clerk was there, filling out some sort of paperwork. He glanced up when Milly swept by but didn’t seem to think her presence warranted doing anything. I hoped he’d be more forthcoming than Mr. Emrick. I approached his desk.
The clerk looked up when he heard my footsteps and got to his feet when he saw me approaching. “Good afternoon, miss. Mr. Cantrell. Is there any way I can be of service? Let me guess, ladies’ sewing circle. We have had at least a dozen ladies’ sewing circles wanting to go to Darlington. There must be fascinating drapers there. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the suffragette rally scheduled for next week.”
So he thought I was there to make travel arrangements. He must have recognized Milly, then, and had a good memory for faces. I wasn’t sure if that helped me or not. “Sorry, I’m not a client, I’m afraid. I’m waiting for my cousin.” I nodded towards the door Milly had gone through.
“She’s the one they hired as a transcriptionist?”
“That’s right.”
“I see. Well, don’t mind me.” He glanced at his desk and noticed the ashtray with a half-smoked cigar, which he quickly moved to the window. “Sorry about that. Gift from a grateful client. One of the former employees here couldn’t stand the things, and now that’s he’s gone, well, we’ve been indulging a bit.”
I liked him a bit less for that, but I nodded in a way I hope said not to worry but which allowed me to avoid saying it was all right. I tried to look as if I were staying out of his way while scanning the office for clues. The candy dish was where Milly had said, on the reception desk that didn’t seem to have a receptionist attached to it. I wondered if there were any poisoned candies left, but that seemed unlikely. If I had used that method to poison someone, I would have picked out the poisoned candies and disposed of them at the first opportunity. Still, Inspector Wainwright had gotten one after the murder, or at least I thought he had, so maybe a few had been missed, or the killer hadn’t had access to the candy in private since then. It wouldn’t hurt to take a couple and see if Inspector Wainwright wanted to get them analyzed. Inspector Wainwright’s cough sprang to mind. It seemed simple enough that it ought to work, so I held my glove up to my mouth and tried to cough softly enough so it would seem I was trying to hide it but loud enough to be heard.
My tricked worked. Mr. Cantrell looked up after the second cough and gestured to the bowl on the desk. “Please help yourself.”
“Thank you.” He had said to help myself, so I took three of the wrapped drops, trying to catch them from different parts of the dish without being obvious. I felt I needed some excuse for the number I took, so I added, “I hope I’m not catching something.”
“Not to worry. People seem to get a cough in here frequently. The air must be dry or some such thing. Mr. Emrick and I are used to it by now.”
I wondered if there was something suspicious in that. The air didn’t feel particularly dry. Then I noticed both Mr. Cantrell’s desk and Mr. Emrick’s had well-worn but fancy cigar boxes prominently placed on them. The pair of them clearly smoked often, so it was likely they no longer noticed an occasional cough themselves.
Mr. Cantrell was still looking at me. “You were here before, weren’t you, miss?”
He didn’t seem to be suspicious, that was something, at least. “I was.” Perhaps, if I didn’t say much, he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
He smiled at me. “Then I take it you two are still quite interested in Mr. Dently’s unfortunate circumstances.”
There didn’t seem any point in denying it. In fact, that would probably make the whole thing seem more suspicious, particularly if he’d been listening to my questions the last time I
had been there. “The police suspect a friend of ours, so when the chance came to work in the office...”
“Your cousin thought it would be a good idea to apply for the position, even though she was terribly unqualified.”
“Something like that.”
“So you’re here to do the actual work for her, then?”
I wondered if that had been Milly’s reason for insisting I come along, although she was perfectly capable of gathering up files herself. Even if it hadn’t been, it seemed like my best chance at poking around. “It seems so.”
“Then can I help you with something?”
“I hope so. I was supposed to, well, Milly was supposed to help get Mr. Dently’s things in order. You wouldn’t know what he was working on before he died, would you?”
“Reconciling some accounts, I think.”
That didn’t sound promising, but I asked, “What sort?”
“He was going through the old records of packages sold. I think he was checking them against the amounts in the ledgers.”
At least there would be page numbers there. “Do you know which records?”
“Mr. Emrick’s books, I think. On the second shelf there. But I’m not sure there’s anything for you to do with those. I didn’t hear of anyone being assigned to audit them.”
“Then I wonder why he was doing it.”
“I rather assumed there was some sort of a complaint that he was trying to get to the bottom of. We have a few clients who complain that they did not get everything they asked for, but when we check, we discover they were only willing to pay for a part of what they wanted. I assumed it was that sort of a situation.”
“And Mr. Emrick wasn’t checking himself?”
“It was when he was out of the office, so Mr. Dently must have stepped in to help. We all have to do that if someone else’s client turns up. Can’t just turn them away, you know.”
“Yes, I see that. Well, I’d best check, just in case there is something I ought to be doing.”
