by Emily Organ
“You like to learn about your buyers before selling to them?” James clarified.
“Exactly.”
“We found a roll of paintings within Mr Gallo’s living quarters in the hotel’s attic. Might he have bought them from you?”
“The works he bought from us were always framed. He might have removed them from the frames, of course, but I’m not sure why he would do such a thing. We pride ourselves on ensuring that each frame complements the picture in question. Do you know which paintings they were?”
“There were two landscape scenes, a painting of a sunset and two paintings with rural workers in the foreground. Was one of them a shepherdess, Penny?”
“Yes, I think so,” I replied.
“I didn’t look at the artists’ names, I’m afraid,” added James.
“Interesting.”
“Admittedly, my descriptions of the artworks are rather poor, but do any of them sound familiar?”
“No, I can’t say that they do. I’m quite confident they are not the artworks Mr Gallo purchased from us.”
“The stolen one is definitely not among them?”
“No, indeed. The Madame Belmonte is a portrait.”
“Of course. I should have realised that it would be.” James gave an embarrassed laugh.
“Mr Gallo would never have had anything to do with a stolen painting,” said Mr Court-Holmes. “It would be completely out of character.”
“Even if he hadn’t realised it was stolen?”
“I suppose any one of us could buy a painting without realising it had been stolen. You’re not suggesting he was murdered over a stolen painting, are you?”
“We don’t yet know what the motive was; that’s what we’re trying to find out. I find it odd that the paintings in Mr Gallo’s rooms are all rolled up together in the way they are. It suggests some sort of secrecy, or perhaps I’m dwelling on them too much. Do you think they might be of any significance, Mr Court-Holmes?”
“It’s impossible to say, Inspector.”
Chapter 22
I resolved to spend some time working on the book I was writing about my father’s travels over the weekend. I had transcribed many of his letters and diaries, but there were still a good few to work through.
The week’s events had left me feeling quite tired, and I soon found myself gazing out through the window beyond my desk at the rain drumming down on the rooftops. I wondered how James was faring on his visit to his parents’ house given that they hadn’t yet forgiven him for ending his engagement. He had previously told me that his and Charlotte’s mothers were friends, and that this was how they had originally come to meet.
As my cat, Tiger, decided to stretch herself across my page, I took the opportunity to pause from work and make myself a cup of cocoa. There was a knock at the door as I placed the kettle on my little stove.
“Only me!” called my landlady, Mrs Garnett. “There’s another letter for you here from the lovesick librarian!”
“There’s no need to call him that any more, Mrs Garnett,” I replied as I opened the door. “He has left the library now and is far too busy enjoying the travelling lifestyle to be lovesick.”
She gave me a knowing smile as she handed me the letter. Her steel-grey curls were contained beneath a white cotton bonnet, which contrasted beautifully with her dark skin.
“Let’s hear what he has to say, then,” she said as she walked into the room and sat herself down on my bed.
“Why are you so interested, Mrs Garnett?”
“I’m always interested to read something written by a person who’s off travelling the world! I won’t be travelling anywhere myself any time soon… possibly never again. So I like to hear about other people’s adventures instead.”
“Very well.”
I sat on the chair at my writing desk and opened the letter, which had been written almost a month earlier.
El Charquito, United States of Colombia, 17th October 1884
Dearest Penny and Eliza
Your letter has reached me at last! It found its way from Bogotá via a messenger from the British Embassy.
I must say that I was very sorry to read of the cancellation of Inspector Blakely’s wedding. It must have caused great upset to both parties, and I can only hope that the decision was made for the right reasons. Please extend my regards to Inspector Blakely.
Hopefully you have received my previous letter by now, which explained that Anselmo and I plan to stay in El Charquito for a while in order to take excursions out into the countryside and make enquiries among the people we find there in the hope of discovering news of your father’s whereabouts. We have employed the services of a local guide who knows this area well.
We have made two excursions so far, and I can already see why your father was so drawn to this country. The vegetation is lush and verdant, and in the densely forested areas around us I have espied some of the orchids your father loved so dearly. I couldn’t possibly know the species as well as he, so I cannot name them, but I can certainly vouch for their beauty.
The incessant rain has finally stopped, and I am hoping the low cloud will lift before long. We have been assured that this is the beginning of the dry season!
Our first excursion took us through the forest twenty miles south of here to a small village called Las Fronteras, but our enquiries turned up no word of your father. The following day we travelled south-west for just over twenty miles to a pleasant little town called Subia. My spirits were lifted by the many colourful flowers thriving there despite the damp weather.
I have eaten my fill of potatoes, sweet potatoes and cassava root. The Colombians enjoy their meat, but it is rather over-salted for my taste. I am also savouring figs and mangos, and of course the wonderful Colombian coffee.
The air here is to be recommended. It is rather different from the smoke of London, although I must say that we haven’t quite escaped the fog!
Tomorrow our guide will take us north across the River Funza, and we shall continue our enquiries there. I feel sure that it won’t be long before we encounter someone who recalls your father and can give us some valuable information.
With fondest regards,
Francis Edwards
“What a lovely letter,” said Mrs Garnett. “Doesn’t he have a wonderful way with words? If the poor fellow is truly disappointed that the inspector’s wedding was cancelled, he doesn’t obviously show it.”
“He has other more pressing matters to consider now, Mrs Garnett. Important matters such as finding my father.”
“Won’t it be fantastic when he finds him?”
“If he finds him. He may never pick up Father’s trail.”
“But it sounds as though he knows what he’s doing with all this talk of the various places he’s visited and the suchlike. He’s a very clever man, and brave, too. Why didn’t you ever agree to marry him?”
“Much as I like and respect Mr Edwards, I don’t love him. I’m quite sure we’ve had this same conversation before!”
“We have indeed,” she said with a sigh. “Will you marry the inspector now?”
I felt my face redden. “We haven’t really discussed it as yet. It’s too soon after the cancellation of his last wedding to consider another.”
“Two months, isn’t it? Surely that’s long enough. Get on with it, I say, as you never know what might befall you. You’ve met my friend Mrs Wilkinson, haven’t you?”
“I have indeed.”
“Her husband’s cousin died in a fire last week. He was fast asleep in bed, and then, whoosh! Everything caught fire and he was dead. You never know when the good Lord will decide your time is up, and that’s why you shouldn’t waste it.”
“I wouldn’t say that I’m wasting time at the moment, Mrs Garnett.”
I heard footsteps beyond the open door.
“Hello?”
It was my sister’s voice, and I felt relieved that the topic of conversation was about to change.
�
��Penelope! Mrs Garnett!”
I noticed my landlady frowning at the sight of Eliza’s practical tweed jacket and divided skirt as she strode into the room.
“Did you arrive here on your bicycle, Mrs Billington-Grieg?”
“I did, Mrs Garnett, but don’t you worry. I know you don’t allow bicycles in the house, so I left it next to the privy.”
“We’ve just been reading the latest letter from Francis,” I said, standing to my feet and passing the letter to Eliza. “He has been busy making daily excursions.”
Mrs Garnett excused herself while my sister read the letter.
“How wonderful,” Eliza said once she had finished reading. “He’s working hard, by the sound of things, though I think he was hoping for a little more sunshine! Now then, Penelope, tell me what happened at that accursed hotel. I’ve been in Derbyshire this week visiting Mother, and I recalled you telling me you were going to be staying at a new hotel some American chap had opened. Then I read in the newspaper that he had been murdered! Please don’t tell me you were there.”
“I was, actually. Would you like a cup of cocoa? The kettle is almost boiled.”
I made our drinks and my sister listened intently as I recounted the events that had taken place at the Hotel Tempesta.
“I thought my own life had been quite eventful of late, but once again you have beaten me to it.”
“Unfortunately, I am still having to report to Chief Inspector Fenton at Bow Street station every morning because the murder weapon was found in my bedchamber.”
“Surely he knows that you couldn’t have possibly done such a thing.”
“I’m quite certain that I am not considered a suspect in the murder itself, but I suppose he sees a possibility that I might have colluded with the killer and allowed him to hide his weapon there.”
“Well that’s utterly ridiculous, too.”
“I suppose they cannot rule anything out at this point. He wants to conduct a longer interview with me on Monday.”
“He needs to leave you alone!”
“All the guests are being interviewed in this manner, Ellie. James and I think that a number of them could be ruled out as suspects, including me. We just need to persuade Chief Inspector Fenton to concentrate on the more suspicious guests.”
“You mustn’t undertake any police work yourself, Penelope.”
“I realise that, but James and I have worked on a good few cases together now.”
“As long as you remember that you’re a news reporter and not a policelady.” Eliza blew on her cocoa to cool it. “I wonder whether ladies will ever work for the police force.”
“I don’t see why not. There are already several female private detectives. I know the Pinkerton Detective Agency employs some.”
“That’s the American detective agency, isn’t it? I’ve heard the name before.”
“Apparently they have a man in London at the moment looking for a criminal who may have stolen a painting from an art gallery that belonged to a friend of Mr Gallo’s.”
“Well that sounds rather convoluted. I was going to say that I wouldn’t mind becoming a lady detective, but I think I’d become too easily confused by situations like that. Anyway, I’ll be starting a job of my own on Monday.”
“Congratulations, Ellie! You must so be looking forward to it!”
“I am. I thought I should tell Mother the news of my situation before she heard it from anyone else. It wasn’t easy, but I feel better for it now.”
“What did she say?”
“Not a great deal, really. I think she’s still coming to terms with the idea. I did place considerable emphasis on George’s behaviour, perhaps unfairly at times.”
“Why would it be unfair? He consorted with criminals.”
“But not knowingly.”
“How can you be so sure? He’s an intelligent man, and I don’t believe he was unaware of what his client was embroiled in. I think you persist in flattering him too much.”
“I didn’t flatter him to Mother!”
“Good! Was she surprised?”
“Yes, extremely. Quite horrified, in fact. She couldn’t believe that a lawyer would get himself into such trouble.”
“No, I don’t suppose she could. Many people struggle to believe that a professional gentleman might be capable of any wrongdoing.”
“She was rather uneasy when I introduced the idea of divorce. I had to stress the point that I couldn’t possibly remain married to a man who had behaved so despicably. Although she was opposed to the idea, she eventually agreed with me. She is so extremely disappointed in him.”
“As you were when you discovered what he had done.”
“Yes, although I am quite recovered from that now. I mentioned my offer of employment to Mother.”
“And what did she make of it?”
“She sighed and made a comment about having two daughters who are determined to be as modern as possible. She enquired about you and asked whether you were courting. I didn’t dare tell her you had caused a man to cancel his marriage just hours before his wedding. I don’t think she would have coped well with that news on top of mine.”
“No indeed. I suppose she would have been even more despairing of us if you had.”
“You’ll have to visit her and explain the situation to her soon. It’s only fair.”
My stomach turned at the thought.
“It’s been some time since you last visited her,” continued Eliza. “I suppose you’re always rather busy, aren’t you? And you’ll be even busier now that you’ve decided to become an unofficial police constable.”
“I have done no such thing!”
“There’s no need to take offence, Penelope. Your closeness to James makes it inevitable.”
“Not at all, Ellie. I haven’t forgotten that I’m a news reporter. The reason I’m so involved in this current case is that I was staying at the hotel when the murders were committed.”
“That may be so, but it is important to remember where your job ends and his begins. I realise there is always some justification for these situations, but how does your editor view your romantic involvement? And how about James’ superiors? I shouldn’t have thought it would be too long before something is said.”
Chapter 23
“When did you first hear of Mr Gallo, Miss Green?”
Chief Inspector Fenton sat across the table from me in a small room at Bow Street station that was lit by a gas lamp and a narrow window. Inspector Pilkington was also present and had been tasked with writing down everything I said.
“I was aware that the Corinthian Hotel was being refurbished,” I said, “as I saw the work being carried out when I walked past it. My office is only a five-minute walk from the hotel.”
“But when did you first hear of Mr Gallo himself?”
“I didn’t know the name until an invitation arrived at our office for a reporter to spend the night at his new hotel. Before that I had heard that an American hotelier intended to reopen the Corinthian, but I didn’t know his name at that time.”
“What had you heard about him?”
“Just that.”
“When did the invitation arrive at the Morning Express offices?”
“It was some time in September.”
“Was it addressed to you directly?”
“It was addressed to the editor, Mr Sherman. He had no wish to stay at the hotel, so he passed the invitation on to my colleague, Mr Fish. He wasn’t keen to take up the invitation, and neither was another colleague, Mr Potter, so it fell to me to accept it.”
“Why was it refused by your three colleagues?”
“It didn’t interest them enough, I suppose, and Mr Fish was rather preoccupied with the rumours about the hotel being haunted. I wouldn’t say that he was frightened about staying there, but I believe the thought unnerved him.”
“Was Mr Sherman well acquainted with Mr Gallo?”
“Not to my knowledge, no. I think it was a speculati
ve invitation. Mr Gallo most likely invited writers from all the publications he enjoyed reading. Or perhaps he chose the publications he felt would provide favourable reviews. I’m sure Mrs Mirabeau would know more about his reasons. In fact, it was Mrs Mirabeau who recommended the idea to Mr Gallo. You should ask her about it.”
“There’s no need to make suggestions as to how we carry about our investigation, Miss Green. I’m more interested in what you know at the present time. So the first time you met Mr Gallo was on the evening of the dinner?”
“Yes.”
“And you got to know him during the course of the evening.”
“Not particularly. He gave us a tour of the hotel and fed us well – a little too well, actually – and then we all retired for the night. The Mr Gallo I saw was the man he wished us to see. It came as a great surprise to me to learn that he had entertained a female companion that evening. He had given us the impression that he was devoted to his wife and daughters. From what I did know, though, I liked him. He was pleasant, amusing and a good host. Inspector, I realise you’re trying to establish any possible motive I might have for murdering Mr Gallo, but I really didn’t know the man! There were other guests there who were much better acquainted with him.”
“Which of the guests did you know before you arrived at the hotel?”
“Mr Blackstone was the only person I had met before, and I must add that I am not particularly familiar with him. I just know him to be one of the reporters for The Times, and as a result our paths cross now and again.”
“Was Mr Blackstone acquainted with Mr Gallo before that evening?”
“I’m not sure. He didn’t mention that he was.”
“There is a strong possibility that two or more guests colluded to carry out this heinous act.”
“If you’re suggesting that Mr Blackstone and I colluded you are sorely mistaken, Inspector. We are practically strangers!”
“You must have had an opportunity to collude with someone, though. Did anyone ask if they could store something in your bedchamber?”