by L. A. Nisula
“Then I’ll show to you anyway, and you can tell her how well-appointed it is.”
I sipped my tea. “I’ll be sure to. It’s a very nice neighborhood.”
Mrs. Greenly began enumerating the various advantages of her boarding house, all of which seemed to center on its location. I smiled and sipped my tea and listened for any clue that might help. When she’d wound down, I held up the ledger book. “It sounds like such a nice place to live, so easy to get everywhere.”
“Oh yes, it's very convenient to everything you could want. Now, you wanted to deliver that. I’ll let you into her room, and you can leave it on the table. You’ll understand that I have to stay with you.”
“Naturally. You can’t be too careful.”
Mrs. Greenly led me up the steep but well-carpeted stairs to the second floor and unlocked the door on the left. Miss Kurtland’s flat was a bedsit with a single bed and a sitting area that faced the back garden.
“As you can see, the available flat has a nice view of the street, perfect for watching London pass by.”
“I’ll be sure to tell my friend. I’ll just leave this on the desk.” The desk was under the window, which meant I had to cross the entire room to get there. Mrs. Greenly watched me constantly from the door so I couldn’t get a good look at anything, but I did manage quick glances. The room was neat and uncluttered. The furniture was nice but not expensive. The shoes lined up by the closet door were fashionable but fairly cheap except for one pair of good black boots. I didn’t see anything that suggested embezzlement, but then she might be very clever and wait to spend the money until she was well away. I made a space in the middle of the desk for the ledger, pretending I wanted to be sure she’d see it, and scanned the contents as I moved them: small bills that had been marked paid, a letter folded into its envelope, a few calling cards stacked on the blotter. I noticed a photograph of a young man. I was about to ask Mrs. Greenly about him, when I saw a business card stuck in the frame. Navin Sharma.
“That’s a nice picture of Mr. Garland, isn’t it?” Mrs. Greenly asked from the door.
The other guest. Another connection. “Very nice. Does he call here often?”
“Certainly. At least twice a week. Of course, I make him wait in the parlor. This is a respectable house even if they — well, you being a friend, I’m sure you know about their engagement.”
“Of course,” I lied. “But they told you?”
“Oh, they didn’t want to, but he had to explain why he was calling so often. I think it’s rather romantic.”
“I suppose it is.” She was focused on me now so I couldn’t poke around anymore. I scanned the room as I made my way back to the landing, but nothing caught my eye. “Thank you for letting me drop that off.”
“Of course, my dear.” Mrs. Greenly turned to lock the door. She’d barely finished when she was almost knocked down by a young woman of about twenty running down the stairs.
“Mildred, how many times must I tell you, you must be careful on these stairs.”
“I was being careful. Fast does not mean I’m not being careful. Besides, I’m late.”
“For what?”
“Got to do an inventory at my job. Renting out Mary’s place now?”
“Just letting her friend drop something off while she’s out.”
The girl smiled. “Done a bunk, has she?”
“She has not ‘done a bunk’; she’s gone out of town for a few days. The rent is fully paid up, which is more than I can say for some, Mildred.”
The girl made a face and ran down the rest of the stairs.
“There might be a second room for let soon if you know of anyone else who’s looking.”
I smiled conspiratorially. “I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you for all your help.” I was hoping that, if I hurried, I'd be able to catch my next clue.
On the street, I looked for the girl from the stairs. I saw a young constable on his rounds. It couldn’t hurt. I tried to sound casual as I asked him, “Did you see Milly go by?”
“What did she forget this time? You might be able to catch her in the Underground. Are you Mrs. Greenly’s new lodger?”
“No, just checking her place out for a friend. Thanks.” I hurried to the Underground station.
The Underground station was small with only one line, so I only had two platforms to choose from. Thinking back to the girl, I chose the one that headed towards the center of the city. This late in the evening, the platform was mostly deserted, and I had no trouble spotting Milly leaning against a column. She spotted me as I approached her.
“You’re the one who was looking at a room just now.”
“That’s right. Well, I was at the boarding house. I was really dropping something off for Mary.”
“But you don’t really know her. Don’t try to lie to me; I know all the tricks. Anyone who knows her calls her Gilda. 'Cause she deals with money, get it?”
I smiled. “You caught me.”
“Not going to rob her, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“I was only teasing. This is my train. You coming?”
When we’d gotten into the car and found seats, Milly grinned at me. “What do you want to ask me? You followed me for a reason.”
“I’m getting transparent, it seems.”
“Naw, I’m just a better liar.”
I smiled. “I was just trying to ask her some questions. Something to do with the people she works with. Do you know where she is?”
“‘Fraid not. Her gentleman friend might know, though.”
“Mr. Garland?”
“That’s right. But don’t call at his house; try him at the office. He won’t tell you anything about her if you ask at his house.”
“Why not?”
“Has a mother there, that’s why.” She looked up at the station name as the train stopped then turned back to me. “They’ve got a minor title and even less auspicious finances, so his mum wants him to marry money or a title, not Gilda. I’ve been telling her this whole secret engagement thing is nonsense and they should just have it done with, but she insists he knows what he’s doing. This is my stop. You won’t mention it to Mrs. Greenly, will you? She thinks I work in a shop. She’d have kittens if she knew it was the Fox’s Den.”
I assumed that was a pub. “I won’t mention it. Thanks for your help.” A secret engagement to a man who needed money. Both working for Mr. Carrollton, one in the department of most interest to Mr. Sharma and one in Bookkeeping. And both of them now missing. I’d have to tell Inspector Hamilton about them. They were excellent suspects for the embezzlement. But how had they committed the murder? Without that, they were no help to Mrs. Pomeroy. I thought about it as I got off at the next station and mapped out the way home, but I still hadn’t come up with anything by the time I'd left the Baker Street Station and crossed over to Paddington Street. Hopefully, Inspector Hamilton would have more luck.
Chapter 20
BY THE NEXT MORNING, I still hadn’t come up with any new avenues to explore. I wanted to try Mr. Garland, but he wouldn’t be in the office until Monday, and I didn’t have his home address. And after Milly's warning, I wasn't sure it was worth the effort to get it, even though I did want to get a look at all the players involved. I was putting off going to Scotland Yard since I doubted Inspector Hamilton would be there on a Sunday, not unless there was an arrest, and I did want to talk to him directly, in case he let anything slip. Everything else seemed to require Inspector Hamilton’s contacts to investigate properly. And I had gotten some actual work delivered in the afternoon post while I’d been out. Not from Scotland Yard, which would have been an excellent excuse to visit there afterwards, but a paper to be typed up for a professor of Theoretical Steam Application at Oxford. Dry, but it paid well and would take my mind off of the case for a few hours.
I had just gotten the first page typed up when there was a pounding at my door. I sighed and went to answer it. I wasn’t surprised to see Mrs. Albright
in the hall.
“They’ve arrested her.”
“Again?” I didn’t mean to sound so blasé, but it was becoming routine. Although it did mean Inspector Hamilton would be in his office today. “I thought they determined it was in the pills.” Then I remembered where I was. “Would you like some tea and cake, and then you can tell me about it.”
Mrs. Albright had just been waiting to be asked. The kettle was always on the steam vent, so we had the tea set out and steeping in a few minutes. I gave Mrs. Albright a chance to settle herself in, then asked, “Why was Mrs. Pomeroy arrested this time?”
“Inspector Hamilton thinks she poisoned James and Belmont. Have you heard of anything so ridiculous? Why would she do that?”
I sipped my tea. “What does Inspector Hamilton think?”
“He gave some ridiculous reason, but I know she didn’t—”
I held out a plate of macaroons. As she took one, I asked, “What is the ridiculous reason?”
Mrs. Albright balanced a cookie on her saucer. “He thinks their food was poisoned, and she had the opportunity.”
“Why does he think she would do it?”
“I didn’t ask; I just came to see you.”
“So when was she arrested?”
“This morning.”
“And how did you find out so quickly?”
“I was there when it happened. I’d gone to visit her. Poor thing’s been so upset since it happened that I’ve been calling as often as I can. We were just getting ready to go out when Inspector Hamilton arrived. Of course, I demanded to know what proof he had, and that’s when he told me about his silly theory.”
“Does she have an attorney?”
“Mr. Carrollton is going to find someone for her. Inspector Hamilton told him about the arrest just before they took her away.”
I knew what she wanted me to do. “I’ll go talk to Inspector Hamilton. He’s a reasonable man. I’m sure he’ll see she’s innocent and let her go.”
Mrs. Albright smiled. “I knew you would know what to do.” She helped herself to another cookie.
I finished my tea with Mrs. Albright and tried to get any more details on the arrest from her; then I took the Underground to Scotland Yard. I was beginning to think the receptionist would know me on sight with the number of times I’d been there in the past few days, but she didn’t say anything as she took my card to send up and told me to wait by the lift. Maybe she saw a lot of people whose acquaintances were arrested on a daily basis.
This time it was a surprisingly short wait. I wondered if Inspector Hamilton wanted to get me over with.
Constable Fulton was waiting for me when I got out of the lift again. He smiled when he saw me. “Suppose you don’t really need to be shown the way.”
“I should know it by now.”
“But it is still my job. If you would follow me, Miss.”
Inspector Hamilton had left his office door open, so I walked right in. He was standing behind his desk again, not that there was anyplace else to stand in his office, looking at a folder of papers again. I leaned in to try to get a look at the folder and bumped the guest chair into his desk.
Inspector Hamilton looked up. He smiled wryly when he saw me. “Somehow I knew you’d be coming to visit me.”
“Why did you arrest Mrs. Pomeroy?” No point in beating around the bush.
“I followed your hunch.” He saw my reaction and smiled a little. “No, I did not tell her you put me onto it. But yes, both the butler and the footman were poisoned.”
“But what about the pills? Mrs. Pomeroy hadn’t been to Mr. Ainsworth’s house at all, let alone the study. How could she have poisoned the pill bottle?”
“Miss Pengear, did you open that pill bottle?”
“No, I didn’t want to contaminate the evidence.”
“A very good principle. But if you had, you’d have noticed what wasn’t there. The smell of bitter almonds.”
“No cyanide?”
“No cyanide.”
“But if only a few pills were poisoned, it would be logical for them to be on top and be the ones Mrs. Delford took.”
“Why didn’t you mention that Mrs. Pomeroy specified which serving of salmon mousse was to be given to Mr. Ainsworth?”
I could feel the color drain from my face. “I forgot.”
“But she did.”
Inspector Hamilton was being as honest with me as he could, it was the least I could do to try and do the same. “She did. But he was allergic to one of the ingredients in the others. I don’t think for a moment she—”
“I’ll ask her what she meant directly.”
“I’m sure you will, but why did you arrest her?”
“I told you, the servants were poisoned. Not enough to kill them, just enough to make them take to their beds.”
A poison that would make someone ill and could be administered in small doses... I thought fast. “Arsenic?”
He nodded.
Why would he suspect Mrs. Pomeroy? The method of administration, perhaps? “And the simplest way to administer it would be through their food.”
He nodded again.
But maybe not so bad for Mrs. Pomeroy, even though it didn’t look very good right now. “But do you have any proof?”
“It was in the sugar.”
“The sugar?” Maybe it was bad.
“Yes. The sugar dish that was put with their tea. It had to be someone in the house and someone who knew that they were the only two in the house who took sugar, and I don’t think Mr. Carrollton was in the habit of preparing his servants’ tea. That leaves Mrs. Pomeroy. Unless they poisoned themselves.”
“But what is the motive?”
“I don’t need to show motive, only proof, but the motive is simple. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it.”
I had. “But why would Mrs. Pomeroy want them out of the way? Why would she want Ross there? He made more work for her, and that would make it harder for her to carry anything out. And why would she have asked me and Mrs. Albright to come? We—” I wasn’t sure how to finish that.
“You have a bit of a reputation. Maybe she was counting on that. Counting on you to find a way to prove her innocent out of loyalty to Mrs. Albright.”
I didn’t want him to think of that just then. “There have to be other people who had access to the sugar.”
Inspector Hamilton sighed. “I see your reputation is well earned.”
“Someone needs to be looking into this. Clearly your men didn't look hard enough."
“Miss Pengear, I assure you we all did everything necessary—"
“Then why did I find his pipe under the settee?"
“His pipe? Whose—"
“Mr. Ainsworth's pipe, of course."
“Under the settee? There was no settee in the office."
“Not in the office, in the study."
“Under the settee in the study?"
“In the study. Clearly you lot didn't do a thorough enough job. Now can I at least see her?”
“Not today. She’s waiting for her solicitor.” He smiled a little. “If you come tomorrow, I’ll see if I can arrange it.”
“Thank you.” I was prepared to storm out in high dudgeon, but Inspector Hamilton was trying to be helpful. I sighed. “What do you know about the other two guests?”
“Other two guests?”
“That were supposed to be there? Mr. Garland and Miss Kurtfield?”
“Mr. Carrollton did say there were two guests who were ill.”
“Then you looked into them and found out they’re secretly engaged and need money?”
“But you aren’t investigating.”
I smiled at him, although I think it was more of a grimace.
Inspector Hamilton grimaced back. “They make excellent embezzlement suspects, but terrible murder ones. Unless you think one of them was hiding under the table or in the pantry.”
“So you didn’t investigate them. Although if they had been there, I woul
d have seen them, I suppose. Of course, there could be a connection to one of the guests.” I decided against telling Inspector Hamilton I knew there was one. Then I’d have to come up with an explanation for why I had been in Miss Kurtfield’s rooms.
Inspector Hamilton kept staring at me. I knew he knew I was thinking of my next move, and that there was nothing he could do to stop me. All he said was, “Be careful.”
“I will.”
When I was back out on the street, I considered my options. There was nothing else I could do at Scotland Yard, but I had to do something to help Mrs. Pomeroy or to prove to Mrs. Albright’s satisfaction that she was guilty. That was a higher standard than mine, but the only way I could be sure she’d let it go.
So what should I do now? I found a nearby tea shop that was open and went inside to think about it over a cup of Earl Gray and a slice of sponge cake with crème de marron. I made it through three cups of tea and a second slice of cake with no new ideas. As I nursed my forth cup, I contemplated the problem. Where would a detective like Glamorous Gladys go now? Back to the beginning, I supposed. And in this case, that was the dinner party. So where to start? Or re-start, I mused.
I didn’t want to go to Mr. Carrollton’s house today, not after the arrest. The Prescott Guest House wasn’t too far away. Mr. Sharma would be easy enough to interview. I’d go there.
~ * ~ * ~
The same young woman was at the front desk of the Prescott Guest House. I went over and asked for Mr. Sharma again. She glared at me, but didn’t question the way she had before.
I went through to the sitting room. Mrs. McWade was there again, in her seat by the fire. She looked up when I came in and placed me at once. “You’re Mr. Sharma’s friend. Or business acquaintance, as you said.”
“That’s right.” I sat down on the settee as far from her disapproving stare as I could.
“And why are you here to see him today? I hardly think you would be conducting business on a Sunday.”