by L. A. Nisula
“As you say. The green books on the second shelf are the records and the ledgers are on the desk there.”
“Thank you.” I glanced at the ledgers, but they were labeled with dates, not numbers, and they seemed to be about a hundred pages each. I flipped through the top book, but the invoice numbers were all six digits as Inspector Wainwright had said, and I couldn’t think of anything else that the 334 could have stood for in those. I turned my attention to the record books. Those were thicker, easily over three-hundred pages. If only I knew which ones he’d been looking at.
I pulled the first book off the shelf and flipped to page 334. It was a list of arrangements made for several people going to Italy in the spring. No mention of Paddington in any form. I put the book back and pulled out the next one. Again, perfectly normal sorts of trips, one for a couple going on a tour around France and another for a family booking a holiday in Cornwall.
The third book was more promising. Page 334 started with the second half of a trip to Scotland by two gentlemen, continued from page 333. The rest of the page was a trip to Stratford-upon-Avon for a group of four ladies, but somehow they were leaving from both Eustace Station and Paddington Station on the seventh of June. Why two sets of tickets? I tried looking at the hotel listings, but there were clearly only rooms for the four of them. No one else seemed to be joining the group. I read down the list, but a driver was supposed to meet them at Eustace Station two weeks after the tickets had been bought, so Paddington wasn’t the return station either. So why the tickets?
“Something confusing to you, miss?”
Mr. Cantrell had been quite helpful before and didn’t seem to suspect anything, so I brought the book over to him. “Do you have any idea why there would be two sets of tickets for this trip?”
He took the book from me and read the lines on the trip in question. “Perhaps someone was meeting up with them there?”
“But the hotel record shows two rooms for two people each.”
“Then it must be some sort of a mistake.” He took a second look at the book. “From the prices, I’d say the Paddington Station tickets were singles and the Eustace Station returns. That might have been what Mr. Dently was looking for. It isn’t like Mr. Emrick to make such obvious errors, but if he put the tickets on the wrong account, it’s quite likely they wrong party was charged for them. And there would be no way to know who they ought to be delivered to when they had been purchased. I’ll have to ask Mr. Emrick what was going on with this.”
It didn’t sound like something worth killing over, but if it was what Mr. Dently had been murdered for, then it would clear Mrs. Albright and everyone at Paddington Street from suspicion, and the last thing I wanted was for Mr. Emrick to know I’d found it. “The trip was scheduled for three months ago. I would think they would have already complained and Mr. Emrick would have sorted it out by now.”
“I suppose you’re right. And I don’t relish the idea of having to be the one to bring it up.”
“Maybe Mr. Dently left some notes about what he was looking into. Then, if it was about this, you wouldn’t have to be the one to mention it.”
“It feels a bit like cheating, but I suppose we can hope.”
I took the record book back from him. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything when I check his desk. But I’m sure if anyone had been stranded, you’d have heard about it.”
“I would think so. Thank you.”
Once Mr. Cantrell was back at his desk and looking at his papers, I brought the record book back to the shelf and quickly scribbled down everything that was noted about the Paddington Station tickets and noting anything that was different about that listing.
And there were differences between it and the other records of tickets bought. For starters, there was no destination mentioned. At a quick glance, that wouldn’t have been noticed as the information that was there had been written in such a way that it bled out into the surrounding spaces and did so in such a way that the breaks between words fell in just the right place to make it seem there was information in all the fields. No destination, no route number, and no names. It did list a travel date and the time of the train, both things that would have been hard to omit without the blanks being noticed, and the price of the tickets was in the correct place. I noted all of that down, then brought the book back to its place on the shelf and grabbed the previous one. Now that I had an idea of something to look for, I might be able to find some other evidence of whatever wrongdoing the Paddington tickets were a part of.
Before I could choose another book, I heard the office door open. I hurried back to the desk and shoved the paper into my pocket, but it was only Milly. “Well, that’s a disappointment. Mr. Emrick was there, and said he’d already gone through the files, so no work for us.”
That was roughly what I had anticipated, but if Mr. Emrick was there, I wanted to be out of the office before he came out and saw me anywhere near the ledger books. “Well, we can still go for tea. Thank you for your help, Mr. Cantrell.”
“Not at all.”
I grabbed Milly’s arm and steered her towards the door. On the way out, I made certain to knock over the candy dish. I hoped Mr. Cantrell wouldn’t offer candy that had been scattered across the floor to any clients that walked in. As I did it, I realized that it seemed quite natural to grab some candy on the way out the door. It made sense, though. Mr. Emrick wouldn’t have wanted Mr. Dently to drop dead in the middle of the office. And the maid at his building said he ate a pub most nights. That would have been terrible for his smoke allergy. Mr. Emrick must have been counting on him taking the cough drops as he left, and Mr. Cantrell getting his cigars from a client threw the whole thing off. Unless... “Mr. Cantrell, when did you get the cigars?”
“It was the day Mr. Dently died. I felt so terribly guilty. They’re from a client, but that was how the card was signed, a grateful client, so I have no idea who sent them. Mr. Emrick thought it had to be the group from Sheldon’s, something about where they were going, and that it would be a nice idea if I was smoking one when they arrived for their lunch meeting.”
That destroyed that theory. The poison would have acted too quickly had Mr. Dently taken the cough drops around lunch. “So you were smoking just before lunch?”
“No, that wouldn’t have been so bad, as I could have encouraged Mr. Dently to go a bit early. They wrote at the last minute and changed the meeting to half-past two. And Mr. Emrick had been telling Mr. Billings how good it would be for me to be seen enjoying them, so I didn’t feel I could not do it. When Mr. Dently ran out after his client with the train tickets, I first thought he was trying to get away from me. And then it was all for nothing. The cigars hadn’t come from them, although they did enjoy smoking them so not a complete waste by Mr. Billings’s thinking. Still, I can’t tell you how guilty I felt when I first heard Mr. Dently had died. I was convinced it was a reaction to my smoking.”
I nodded. “I’m sure it was a relief when the police came.” Although I doubted anyone felt relief when Inspector Wainwright arrived.
“Indeed. Good afternoon.”
Fortunately, Milly waited until we were a good way down the block before she asked, “So, what did we find out?”
“What Paddington meant. It was the station, but not how we thought.” I explained to her about the ledger books and page 334.
“So it’s solved,” she said when I’d finished. “Although it really makes no sense, does it? Why get tickets no one needed?”
“That is one problem with it.” I was sure Inspector Wainwright would find others, and would describe every one of them to me in great detail when I told him about it.
Milly swung her purse back and forth a few times. “If we knew where the tickets were for, that might tell us why.”
“It shouldn’t be that hard to find out where they were going. We have the cost of the tickets and the time the train was leaving. All we have to do is find out what sort of a ticket would cost that amount. If they reall
y purchased the tickets, and it’s not a straight-up embezzlement. I would think we could do that at Paddington Station.”
“That’s the sort of thing you’re so good at, I think I’ll leave you to it.”
That was a surprise. Milly must have had more interesting plans. “You’re certain?”
“Oh, I don’t have time. Mr. Mason and I are meeting for dinner, and I have to decide on a hat.”
“Who is that?”
“Oh Cassie, you know. You saw him at the pub when we were eating there.”
I was almost afraid to ask, “What happened to Mr. Radford?”
“He has a wife hidden away in Islington. Can you believe it?”
“Good you found out about it before you moved to Glasgow.”
Milly snorted. “I think he wanted to use my money to move there and get away from her. Can you imagine?”
I tried to nod sympathetically, but she had already gone back to thinking about her hat.
Milly and I parted ways at the next Underground station, and I consulted the map to find the train to take me to Paddington Station. I had been worried about how I would find anyone to help me there, but the ticket windows at Paddington Station weren’t crowded at such an odd time in the afternoon, which I hoped meant they would have more time to help with an odd request. I waited my turn until the man at the second window motioned me over.
“How can I help you, miss?”
“I needed some information. My brother’s run off without a word to any of us.” A wayward brother abandoning the rest of the family seemed more likely to elicit sympathy than a sister, who might have a very good reason for running off. “All we were able to find among his things was a note that he was taking the six-fifteen from Paddington on Wednesday and a receipt for nine shillings.” I didn’t know if they gave some sort of receipt when one bought a ticket, so I added, “He borrowed the money from one the fools he’s been spending time with since we got here. I was hoping, if you knew when he left and what he paid for the ticket, you could tell me where he was planning on getting off the train so we’ll have someplace to begin searching for him.”
“It’s quite irregular, as I’m sure you know, but running off and leaving you in London, well, that was badly done. Let me see where the six-fifteen stops. Maybe we can figure it out. Do you think he would have traveled first class?”
“I don’t really know. And I don’t know if he might have borrowed a bit more to cover some other expense.” I wasn’t sure if Mr. Emrick would have included some sort of commission with the price of the tickets, so that would seem to cover any small discrepancies.
“Well, let’s see what we can figure out.” He brought out a train schedule and began checking times then cross-checking with other schedule books. I glanced behind me a few times, feeling like I was taking up quite a bit of his time, but the station was quiet in the mid-afternoon, so there wasn’t much of a line at any of the windows, and the one that formed behind me quickly moved on to other, less busy windows.
“Here we are. There’s a six-fifteen to York on Wednesdays, but for that price, he couldn’t have gone any farther than Digswell if he went third class or Hatfield if he went first. Does that help?”
“It does, immensely. Thank you.” He still seemed to want to be certain he’d helped, so I added, “I’ll check it against his address book and any letters he’s had from England and hopefully find someone he knows along there where he might have gone.”
“Yes indeed. That’s the thing to do. And I hope you find him.”
“I’m sure I will. Thank you again.” I hurried away before he asked too many questions about my wayward fictional brother.
So now I knew more or less where the tickets had been for, but not who. I thought about it as I walked back to the Underground station. Something about the tickets had made Mr. Dently suspicious enough to go looking through the books. No, I realized, something else had made him suspicious, and he’d gone looking through the books and found the tickets which connected to whatever had made him wonder. So where would he have seen something that made him suspicious? In the office? Probably not, I decided. Mr. Cantrell seemed to notice things, and he hadn’t said anything about it even when he’d known I was looking into Mr. Dently’s death. So, outside of the office. Where would he see something suspicious that could connect to the office?
I thought about the stack of newspapers Milly had been meaning to get to. Something had sparked Mr. Dently’s memory that day. Something had caused him to question that particular entry in the ledger book. Perhaps something he’d read in the newspaper. It wouldn’t hurt to page through them and see if there was any mention of Digswell or Hatfield in some context that would have jogged his memory. It would have to have been after the date the tickets were bought and before he was killed. That narrowed it down a little, at least. It also meant the older newspapers were the ones to look through. I decided he probably wasn’t the sort to read every article, mainly because that assumption simplified things and meant I only had to read the most prominent articles. So I would start with our oldest newspaper and work my way forward. Then I remembered I’d brought some of the oldest newspapers to Paddington Street for Kate. That might be the place to start. And I could tell them all about how the case had progressed.
I hadn’t been sure if Kate would be at Paddington Street or if she would be at the shop with Ada, but when I knocked on the door of 334, it was Kate who answered, holding another bit of something that had wires sticking out the bottom of it. I assumed it was some part of the telephone. “Cassie! How nice to see you. Is there news? And how did the typewriter work?”
“The typewriter was excellent, and I think there is news.”
“Then you’d better save the news until Mrs. Albright can hear it so you only have to tell it once.” She put the bit of phone into the closet and led the way to Mrs. Albright’s flat. “And you’re welcome to keep the typewriter if you want it. I’ve started on another one with a couple of new design details. You’ll have to let me know what sort of fonts you might want for the replacement keys.”
Mrs. Albright got us set up with tea and cake—almond cake again, although I couldn’t tell if it was the same cake or she’d baked a new one—while I told them about the newest developments. “We have plenty of newspapers,” Mrs. Albright said as she poured hot water from a kettle into the teapot. “We’ve been saving them for Kate’s move.”
Kate got to her feet. “If we divided up the ones from the right time period, it will go faster. We might even get it done before the tea’s ready.”
We sorted the stack by date then split it between us. I was on the third newspaper when I found it. An article on the apprehension of a known bank robber who’d been hiding out in Digswell. The man had robbed the Lloyd’s Bank on Brompton Road and gotten away with a fair amount of money. An inside job. He’d been working there as a teller for almost a month before he’d slipped in after-hours and robbed the place.
“Have you found it, Cassie?” Kate asked without looking up from her paper.
“Maybe.” I read them the first paragraph which summarized the general gist of the crime. “But I don’t know what about that would have made Mr. Dently question an entry for the purchase of a train ticket?”
“He could have recognized the town,” Mrs. Albright suggested.
“But why check the records?” Kate asked. “There must have been some reason he was going through the records in the office to find the Paddington Station reference.”
“Unless he was already checking the records and noticed the odd entry before he read the paper,” Mrs. Albright offered.
I wasn’t sure if that was good logic or not. I put the newspaper aside as a possible.
Kate put down her newspaper. “Maybe he didn’t read the Times. There are plenty of other papers. Let’s see what some of the other ones have for the same day. Maybe someone else will have said something more.”
We all poked around through the papers until Kate found
Milly’s copy of The Illustrated London News from that day. The story of the arrest was on page three, but it was accompanied by a four-inch engraving of the man’s face. “Could that be it? Could he have recognized him?”
I looked at the engraving. It was a good likeness. “Maybe, if he went to the office, Mr. Dently might have seen him meeting with Mr. Emrick and recognized him.”
“Is there anyone there you could ask?” Kate asked.
“Mr. Cantrell, the other clerk. He remembered me. He’d probably remember someone else he saw.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go back there, not if you really think Mr. Emrick is the murderer,” Mrs. Albright said.
“I could go,” Kate said. “They’ve never seen me.”
I wasn’t sure that that was any safer. “Maybe one of the constables would be more receptive to a theory. Particularly if it leads to who poisoned the inspector.”
Kate didn’t seem sure of that, but Mrs. Albright nodded. “Safer, anyway.”
“Let’s think about it over tea,” Kate suggested. “And we can get a picture of this Mr. Emrick, I could show it around at the post office. Maybe one of the fellows who came to help saw him lurking around, or even better, would recognize him as one of the people bringing things in instead of out.”
That seemed a safer way for her to help, so I carefully tore the picture of the bank robber out of the newspaper and followed them through to the kitchen.
As we got the rest of the tea sorted out and the table laid, Kate was looking thoughtful. She was arranging the jam pots and their spoons when she asked, “So why put it in the book to begin with, where it could be found?”
I thought about the papers I had typed up for Billings and Sons. There had been some accounting paperwork in there, getting reimbursed for the tickets purchased, things like that. “He had to account for the tickets. The money was going through the company, so they had to be in the books when they were being reconciled. And he had to have some way for the tickets to get to him without it being obvious. If he was constantly not recording tickets he wanted and having to say ‘Oh, those are mine’ every time someone brought back a batch from the station, someone would have noticed and become suspicious. Having them in the book meant no one looked too closely, as there was nothing to suggest there was something to look at.”
