by Emily Organ
“This sale from the fifth of June is one I don’t recall,” said Mr Villier, “although it’s in my handwriting. Do you have any memory of it, Wilson?”
Mr Wilson reopened the ledger and examined it closely.
“I’m afraid I don’t,” he said after a long silence.
My heart began to sink. This task was beginning to feel rather hopeless.
“And finally, we have a pair of these earrings bought by one of our regular customers. This sale was recorded by you, Wilson. However, I remember it as the chap bought a number of other items at the same time. There was a necklace in a similar style that he purchased. A Mr Maynell.”
I blinked.
“Does that name mean anything to you, Miss Milligan?”
“I’m not sure. The fifth of June, you say?”
“Yes. Jeffrey Maynell is a good customer of ours.”
My heart thudded heavily in my chest. I tried my best to appear calm and pretend that the name meant nothing to me.
“Perhaps the person who bought the earrings is the one you don’t recall,” I said. “It’s a shame, as I did so wish to offer my thanks for the kindness.” I rose out of my chair, attempting to look disappointed. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen.”
“It’s interesting that you should enquire about these earrings, as a detective visited us a few days ago to ask about a very similar pair,” said Mr Wilson. “In fact, I think it may even have been the same pair.”
“A detective?” said Mr Villier. “What did he want?”
“I’m not sure why he was asking. You were out of the shop at the time, and I’m afraid I wasn’t much help to him.”
“Never mind,” replied Mr Villier. “Is there anything else you need help with, Miss Milligan?”
“No, thank you!” I replied over my shoulder as I swiftly left the shop.
Chapter 55
I marched along Piccadilly and hailed a cab to take me to Kensington. I predicted that James would have escorted Mr Repton to Kensington’s Church Court police station for questioning. The distance wasn’t great, but the journey seemed to take an inordinate length of time.
“Can’t you ask the horse to trot?” I called to the cabman through the hatch in the roof. “I’m in a hurry!”
He paid me no heed. As I watched the horse lumber along Knightsbridge Road I tried to understand how Mr Maynell had manipulated us. He had claimed that Mr Repton was framing him, yet it now seemed to be the other way around.
As the traffic slowed along Kensington High Street I paid my fare and ran the rest of the way to the police station.
The constable behind the desk refused to allow me to interrupt James and Mr Repton, despite my earnest protestations. I sat on a wooden bench in the waiting room and agitatedly scribbled in my notebook, trying to piece together the information. How did Mr Maynell know Maria Forsyth? Why should he have wished to kill Richard Geller? And what was Maria Forsyth’s true identity?
By the time James finally appeared it was almost six o’clock.
“Penny?”
I hurriedly told him what had happened at the jewellers’ shop. He listened with interest.
“We must get back to Maynell,” I said. “He’s hiding something! Do you have the earring with you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” said James, feeling around for it in his jacket pocket. “Are you sure about this, Penny? I’ve already upset the man by wrongly accusing him of writing that letter. Are you certain that the jeweller gave you the name Jeffrey Maynell?”
“Yes, I’m sure! He said Mr Maynell. It has to be him doesn’t it? And anyway, we needn’t accuse him of anything. All you need do is ask if he recognises that earring.”
“And if he denies that it has anything to do with him?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something, James. Come on! We must find him without further delay.”
“How did you find Donald Repton?” I asked as we sat together in the cab on our way to Dover Street.
“Rude and uncooperative,” replied James, “which is hardly surprising. Guilty or not, the man had no wish to be questioned at a police station.”
“Is he to be kept there?”
“Yes, they’re detaining him overnight. But they cannot detain him forever and the chap has conveniently bought himself a ticket for the SS Britannia, so time is running out. I’m not sure about this Maynell business at all. I hope it is a worthwhile diversion, as I could do without any more of my time being wasted.”
“Have you ever known me to waste your time?” I asked with a smile.
“No, but there’s always a first time. I hope something will come of this conversation with Maynell.”
“What is it this time, Inspector?” asked Jeffrey Maynell with an angry scowl.
I glared at him, unable to hide my dislike for the man. Not only was he dishonest; he was also a bully. It was highly likely now that he was a murderer to boot.
We stood in the hallway of his home. Maynell had been interrupted while eating supper in his study and still held his serviette in one hand.
“Just one question, Mr Maynell. That is all we’re here to bother you with,” replied James.
“Have you spoken to Repton?”
“Yes, we have, and he is currently detained at Church Court police station in Kensington.”
“Arrested?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“That’s a shame,” replied Maynell. “This had better be quick, Inspector. My supper’s getting cold.”
“It will be. Do please apologise to your wife for the interruption.”
“There’s no need for that. She’s dining out this evening.”
James reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out a folded handkerchief. He unfolded it to reveal the earring.
“Can I ask whether you recognise this piece of jewellery, Mr Maynell?”
He took a step closer and squinted at it.
“Yes, it does look familiar. I bought quite a similar pair just recently.”
“May I ask where you purchased the earrings from, Mr Maynell?”
“I could tell you, Inspector, but what does this have to do with anything?”
“I would greatly appreciate it if you could answer my question, Mr Maynell. Where did you buy the earrings?”
“At my favourite jewellers’ shop in Burlington Arcade. Villier & Powell.”
I was taken aback by Mr Maynell’s honesty. Why had he made no attempt to cover his tracks?
“Do you know a woman who calls herself Maria Forsyth, Mr Maynell?”
“No, I don’t. Who is she?”
“We’re not entirely sure yet. That is not her real name.”
Mr Maynell laughed. “Inspector, I really have no idea what this conversation is about.”
“For whom did you buy the earrings, Mr Maynell?”
“Well, I should think that would be quite obvious, Inspector. Why do you even need to ask? I bought them for my wife.”
Chapter 56
“Are you sure you bought them for your wife?” asked James. “I have reason to believe that this missing earring may belong to another woman.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of ladies who own the same style of earring,” replied Maynell.
“Does your wife happen to be missing one of these earrings?” I asked.
“No.”
“Can you be sure of that?” asked James.
“I think so. Although now I come to think of it I don’t remember seeing her wear that particular pair for a little while. Is that the missing earring in your handkerchief? Where was it found?”
“Mr Maynell, allow me to reassure you that our utmost discretion is guaranteed before I ask you this next question,” said James. “Did you gift a pair of these earrings to any woman other than your wife?”
“Certainly not!” Mr Maynell jutted out his jaw. “What an impertinent question!”
“My intention is not to offend,” said James. “I only ask suc
h a thing to ensure that all possibilities have been explored.”
“I bought the earrings for Lillian,” said Mr Maynell. “Along with a matching necklace, which she adores.”
“In which case, perhaps she has lost an earring,” said James. “Are you able to look through her jewellery, sir?”
“I can’t say that I have ever looked through my wife’s jewellery box, but seeing as I’m rather baffled as to what all this is about I shall go and see now.”
“Please could you bring us the other earring when you find it,” James suggested. “Or both if the full pair is there.”
We waited in the hallway while Mr Maynell went upstairs.
“It’s not possible,” I whispered to James. “Lillian cannot be involved in this, can she?”
“Anything’s possible, Penny. You know that.”
Maynell descended the stairs a short while later.
“How did you get on?” asked James.
“My wife has a lot of jewellery,” said Mr Maynell.
“Have you found the earrings?”
“I found one of them,” he said, holding it out. It matched the earring James held exactly. “Lillian has a great deal of jewellery, as I say. The other must be there somewhere. Are you going to tell me what this is about? Where did you find the earring you are holding in your hand?”
“I shall explain all in good time,” replied James. “Can you tell me where your wife is dining this evening?”
“No,” replied Mr Maynell. “I don’t want you involving her in this nonsense. I want to know what’s going on here, Inspector. What has happened with Repton? When are you planning to arrest him?”
“As I have just said, I shall explain everything to you when we have more time. Where is your wife this evening, Mr Maynell?”
“If you’re not prepared to explain it to me now I shall refuse to tell you.”
James sighed. “That’s a shame, as it would grieve me to arrest you for wilfully obstructing a police officer in the execution of his duty.”
“You would arrest me for not telling you where my wife is?” His mouth hung open. “But Lillian hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“Perhaps you can ask her yourself, sir,” James replied. “Now where can I find her?”
“I used to think Lillian Maynell was perfectly nice,” I murmured to James as we approached the restaurant, Les Jardins d’Harmonie, in Old Burlington Street. It was a small yet elegant establishment with a red and gold awning.
“Used to?”
“Until her earring was found inside the medical school museum.”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions, Penny. We cannot be sure that it is hers as yet.”
Mr Maynell had marched on ahead of us and was already deep in conversation with his wife when we entered the restaurant.
“I wonder what he knows,” mused James.
Several diners turned to look at us as we approached them. Attired in my everyday blouse and skirt, I was not dressed suitably to dine in such an establishment. I smiled apologetically and wished the place wasn’t so quiet.
Lillian had changed out of her yellow dress into a dark red one. Her brow crumpled, and she bit her lip as her husband spoke to her. Then she turned to face us, and her glance was not one I recognised at all. Her blue eyes were ice cold.
I noticed that her companion looked familiar.
It was the woman in grey.
“My goodness,” whispered James. “I believe we have found Miss Forsyth.”
He darted off and spoke quietly with a slick-haired man who looked to be the maître d’hôtel. I remained standing where I was in the centre of the restaurant with a number of people staring at me.
After his quick conversation with the maître d’, James approached Maynell, Lillian and Maria, and asked them to accompany him to a room above the restaurant. There were some whispered words between the three, and Lillian seemed reluctant to move until she noticed that she and her friend were attracting inquisitive stares.
Mr Maynell looked on, rubbing his brow.
I had expected Lillian to be angry or upset once we reached the restaurant manager’s office, but she was either an accomplished actress or completely innocent of any wrongdoing. She sat herself down behind the manager’s desk beneath a painting of the picturesque French countryside, her golden ringlets framing her face.
“I must say that this is quite a surprise, Inspector,” she said with a sweet smile. “And Miss Green! How lovely to see you again.”
Maria Forsyth said nothing. Instead, she stood in the corner of the room and examined her fingernails.
“Will this take long, Inspector?” asked Mr Maynell. “My wife and I are well known in this establishment and it’s rather embarrassing to be escorted off to a private room in this manner. What are your plans, exactly?”
James stepped toward the desk, took the item of jewellery from his pocket once again and showed it to Lillian in his outstretched palm.
“Do you recognise this earring, Mrs Maynell?”
Chapter 57
“Why yes, it’s mine!” Lillian confirmed with a smile. “So that’s what all this is about. Thank you for going to such great lengths to return my earring to me. I was wondering where it had got to. Where did you find it?”
“On the floor of the museum inside St Bartholomew’s medical school,” replied James. “Do you know how it came to be there?”
“In the what? The medical school? What a strange place for it to be found! How on earth did it get there?”
“I was hoping you might be able to tell me,” replied James.
“I wish I could, but I’m afraid I have no idea. I’m very sorry, Inspector, though I’m extremely grateful to the person who found it. Did you make a note of his name? I should like to thank him personally for the return of my pretty earring.”
She extended her hand to take the piece of jewellery, but James held on to it.
“Have you ever set foot in the museum inside St Bartholomew’s medical school?” asked James.
“Never.”
“You heard my wife, Inspector,” said Mr Maynell with a sneer. “It doesn’t matter how the earring got there. Please return it and allow Mrs Maynell and Miss Preston to continue with their meal.”
“Miss Preston?” I said. “So you are not Miss Forsyth.”
The woman glared at me.
“As we suspected, she goes by another name,” said James. “We’ll get to the bottom of that in a moment.”
“Hang on a moment,” said Mr Maynell, his face suddenly full of concern. “This medical school you mention. Wasn’t Richard Geller murdered at that location?”
“He was indeed, Mr Maynell.” James turned to face Lillian. “Did you ever know a Richard Geller, Mrs Maynell?”
“No, I can’t say that I did. Who is he?” she asked.
“Was, Mrs Maynell,” corrected James. “Richard Geller was found strangled inside the museum of St Bartholomew’s medical school.”
“Oh dear. How horrible!”
“I see now why you’re so interested in this earring,” said Mr Maynell, his voice quavering. “It was found at the murder scene.”
“Murder?!” exclaimed Lillian, her lower lip trembling. “Oh goodness!” She clasped her hand to her chest. “I feel quite… Oh my.”
“You are aware, I believe, that Richard Geller was a friend of Simon Borthwick’s?” James asked her.
“Don’t mention that name to my wife!” warned Maynell.
“I’m afraid it’s unavoidable,” replied James. “Can you explain how your earring came to be found at the scene of Mr Geller’s death, Mrs Maynell?”
“No, I can’t,” she replied tersely.
“Did you know about Simon Borthwick’s friendship with Richard Geller?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You have never heard the name before?”
“No.”
She stared down at the desk in front of her and I began to suspect that she was lying.
“You’ve heard what she has to say for herself, Inspector. Now leave!” said Maynell.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” replied James. “Not while I suspect that your wife had something to do with Mr Geller’s death.”
“But that’s ridiculous! My wife had nothing to do with it. Look at the size of her! Do you think for one moment that she possesses the strength to overpower a man?”
I had to agree with Mr Maynell. As I watched his petite wife dab at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, it was impossible to imagine how she could cause anyone any harm.
“There’s no doubt that she had some help,” said James. “Presumably from her friend over there.” He pointed at Miss Preston, who glared at him in response.
“Catherine Preston,” I said, recalling Lillian and Georgina’s reminisces from their school days. “You’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t you?” Both women looked at me and said nothing. “Did you ask Catherine to follow me, Lillian?” I continued. “Was it Catherine who stabbed my shoulder with a knife?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied Lillian haughtily.
I struggled to believe that she was the same fragile woman who had visited me in my lodgings.
Miss Preston curled her lip at me. “You interfere too much, Miss Green.”
“So you admit to following me now?” I asked.
“There is no need for me to admit any such thing. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Yes, you have! You wrote those letters and threw a brick through the window of my offices. And you tried to set fire to the place!”
Miss Preston laughed. “I did no such thing!”
“It’s a shame we don’t have Mr Kurtz here with us,” said James. “As I feel sure that Miss Preston here would be familiar to him.”
She gave him a quizzical look.
“I suspect she has been a regular visitor to the medical school at St Bartholomew’s Hospital,” continued James. “I’m not sure which pretext she would have used. Perhaps she pretended to be a prospective medical student. I’m sure she will have found some excuse to patrol the corridors of the medical school and establish the routine of the two men who worked at the museum.”