by L. A. Nisula
“No, no.” Then she looked up and saw it was me. “Well, actually, yes, something is. And you might be able to help me. Do you think you could get Inspector Wainwright to let me have another look at the fragments that were found by the body?”
“You mean the sapphire and glass? I can try. Did you notice something?”
“I don’t know. That day I was so upset that I didn’t really think about what I was seeing, but now, with what happened to Miss Kleinman, I’ve been thinking about it, and something seems wrong. I want to see if I’m remembering right.”
“We can try. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll come along for moral support if you’d like.”
Chapter 16
MR. KLEINMAN WAS STILL ON THE TELEPHONE, so we told Mr. Garver and Miss Peters where we were going then took the Underground to Scotland Yard. When I asked for Inspector Wainwright at the reception desk, the receptionist shook her head. “Sorry, Inspector Wainwright is out.”
Miss Fairfield looked discouraged, but I took it as a good sign. “What about Constable Kittering or Constable Edwards? Miss Fairfield has some knowledge that might be useful to them in one of their cases.”
The receptionist consulted her levers and dials. “Constable Kittering is upstairs. I will inquire if he will see you.”
I scribbled a note on the back of one of my cards for him; then we went to the waiting area and stood, trying not to stare at the other people waiting, until our names were called and we were ushered into the lift.
Constable Kittering was waiting for us when we reached the inspectors’ floor. He listened to our request with more patience than Inspector Wainwright ever showed, then said, “Certainly. We’ll take any help we can get on the case. Just come this way, please.” He took us through to the evidence request room, and we waited while forms were filled out, identification numbers looked up, identification codes stamped, requests sent, and finally the tiny pouch of evidence was sent up in a dumbwaiter.
Once we were settled in one of the smaller examining rooms, Constable Kittering emptied the contents of the pouch onto the table and nodded to Miss Fairfield. “Do you see anything interesting?”
Miss Fairfield looked at each piece through her loupe, using three different lenses on each. When she’d finished, she leaned back in her seat and stared at the wall.
Constable Kittering gathered the pieces up and put them back in the bag. “Is something wrong, miss?”
“It’s strange. Those pieces don’t fit the story I’ve been hearing.”
“How so?” he asked.
“The glass bits are ragged. They don’t have the precision I would expect if they were left over from him making a copy of the stone. And the angles that are there aren't right. Not for bits that would have been cut away from a larger piece. Some have two or three angles cut in them.”
“What does it look like?” I asked.
“Like the glass was broken.”
“Perhaps the copy was broken?” I asked.
“That would make more sense. But it doesn’t fit the story. Why would he break the copy if he was making it there? None of the pieces are very large. It wouldn’t have been accidental, like he dropped it as he was working. Someone would have had to shatter the fake. Hit it with a hammer or something.”
“Would the hammer you saw on the table do that?”
“It could.”
“And the sapphires? How do they fit in?”
“They’re definitely not from the Heart of Night. These are too light to have been part of it. They’ve been properly cut too, and carefully done. I don’t think he could have done them that night and not with the tools he had there.”
Constable Kittering picked up the bag. “So what does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but if I didn’t know the circumstances, I would say that he couldn’t have been making a copy of a gemstone there. And I don't know how to account for the sapphires. Someone was clearly stealing them, but they’re not from our stock. We didn't have any loose sapphires in the store.”
Constable Kittering seemed at a loss. “I’ll tell the inspector. He’ll probably have more questions for you, but we know where to find you.”
I looked at the bag. “Do you think there’s enough glass in there to have been the Heart of Night?”
Miss Fairfield looked up. “You mean we were keeping a fake? But why would Lady Suffolk pay for us to keep a fake? I know they were charging her an exorbitant amount.”
“I have no idea. But is it possible?”
She held out her hand, and Constable Kittering handed back the bag. She poured the pieces into her hand and sorted out the sapphires then looked at the pieces of glass that were left. “It’s almost possible. If we take into account any glass that was pulverized and not here, maybe. These pieces have the right angles. But the stone would have to have been hollow.”
“Hollow?” That was an interesting suggestion.
Miss Fairfield shrugged. “I don’t know why that would be the case, but if this is all the glass, then it’s possible if not probable.”
Constable Kittering gathered up the glass again. “I’ll pass that on to the inspector. Would you ladies like me to escort you to the lift?”
I knew he’d have to go through the process of returning the evidence, so I said, “I know where it is.”
“Very well, Miss Pengear. Thank you for your help, ladies.”
As we made our way back to the lift, Miss Fairfield asked, “Do you think that will help Miss Kleinman?”
“I think so. I even have an idea how to be even more helpful. Would you like me to go back to the shop with you?”
She smiled. “No, I think you’d best follow up on whatever this helpful thing you’ve thought of is.”
We parted ways in the Underground, Miss Fairfield returning to the shop and me back to Paddington Street to plan my next move.
~ * ~ * ~
Settled in a chair by the fire in my flat, I considered the best way to go about my new plan. There was one person in London who knew exactly what the Heart of Night was. It couldn’t be that hard to find Lady Suffolk. I just needed a place to start. I decided to try the most convenient first. My landlady had a lot of friends in London, many of them in service, so she knew where many of the haute ton lived and could find out addresses for most of the rest. I went downstairs and knocked on her door.
“Cassie. How are you? Was that phone call from the jewelry store?”
I nodded.
“Well, you would wind up at the one jewelry store in town with a murder. Come in and have some tea and tell me all about it.”
The tea was already set out and Mrs. Albright had a plate of custard tarts on the table, so I was able to settle in at once and start telling her all about the troubles at Kleinman and Company. Mrs. Albright nodded often and gasped at all the right places. When I’d finished, she said, “You don’t really think it’s that nice Miss Kleinman, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think at the moment.”
“Well, there’s clearly too many loose ends for Inspector Wainwright to go around saying he has the killer.”
I thought so too, but I didn’t take Mrs. Albright’s agreement as proof I was on the right track; she liked Inspector Wainwright even less than I did. “I’m trying to follow some of them now.”
“Like the necklace, I would think. It does seem to be at the center of it, if the crimes are all connected, of course. And if it was hollow, well that brings up all kinds of interesting possibilities.”
“That’s what I was going to explore next. In fact, that’s why I’m here. The Heart of Night belongs to a Lady Suffolk, but I don’t know where she is.”
“Lady Suffolk? That sounds familiar. I think Mrs. Bantry’s cousin worked for someone with that name. Give me a minute, and I’ll see. Help yourself to another tart. Or two.” She hurried off to the telephone closet in the hallway. I’d finished a second custard tart and was contemplating a third when she cam
e back. “I have it. It was her niece, not her cousin, but that doesn’t matter. Lady Suffolk is staying in town until the end of the month. And this is her address.” Mrs. Albright put the slip of paper down in front of me.
I snatched it up. “I knew you were the person to ask.”
“And now I suppose you’ll be running off to confront her.”
I glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. “She’ll probably be at dinner. I’ll try in the morning.”
“Then have another tart and I’ll tell you how I got that bit of information.”
~ * ~ * ~
If Lady Suffolk had fallen on hard times, her house in town certainly didn’t reflect it. I climbed the three freshly scrubbed steps and rapped the brightly polished knocker against the door. A butler in a sharply creased black suit opened the door and waited for me to explain myself.
I pretended I was speaking to Inspector Wainwright at his most irritating. “I am here to see Lady Suffolk.”
“She is not receiving today.”
I caught a flash of movement in the hallway, silk taffeta skirts and expensive lace. So she wanted to know who came knocking at her door. “I am here about the young woman who was kidnapped from Kleinman and Company. I believe it is related to the theft of her necklace.”
“We were told she would not be bothered by Scotland Yard.”
I wondered who told her that. Certainly not Inspector Wainwright; nothing short of the end of the world was allowed to get in the way of his investigation, and even that would be ignored if he could find a cab. “I am not with Scotland Yard; I am merely...”
“Then there is no need to continue this conversation.” He made to slam the door in my face in the most proper manner.
I caught sight of the silk taffeta again and called through the open sliver, “Of course it’s perfectly alright if you don’t want to talk to me; I have no official standing. Just be aware that whoever murdered Mr. Morris and stole the other pieces has whatever was hidden inside–” I didn’t get to finish the sentence. The door burst open.
“Not on the street. Not where everyone can hear.” A hand shot out and dragged me inside.
As the door slammed behind me, I got my first look at Lady Suffolk. She was younger than I’d thought she’d be, with a faded kind of prettiness that was marred by a small mouth with more fine wrinkles around it than anywhere else on her face. She studied me as I studied her. The butler stood very still and very straight, not watching either of us.
“How did you know there was something inside?”
“The police.” That was mostly true.
“And what did they tell you about it?”
“I’m here to ask the questions. I’m not interested in your troubles, only as they relate to the missing girl.”
“I can’t see how my necklace could be related to a girl I never met.”
I considered asking her what was inside the necklace but quickly rejected the plan. My only advantage was that she thought I had enough information to do her harm, but what sort of harm I had no idea. “Who knew you’d brought it to London?”
“My husband, a few trusted staff members. None of them would dream of doing something so–so–” She struggled for the right word.
I waited for her to find it, but she made an airy gesture with her hand that seemed to indicate it was too common for her to consider, so I pressed on. “Did you wear it anywhere in town? Did anyone know you planned to?”
“Oh, I had no intention of wearing it while I was here.”
“But why on earth did you risk bringing it here and sending the necklace to a jewelry store?”
“I’d been receiving threats as soon as I planned the trip. Someone knew I was going to be in London. I considered leaving it behind, but then what if the person found it there while I was gone? It seemed safest to bring it with me to London. And then I remembered my former lady’s maid was working in a jewelry shop, so I asked her to arrange for me to put it in storage there. It seemed the safest place for it at the time.”
“Did you talk to the police about the threats? Try to find out who sent them?”
“Of course not. It was nothing we couldn’t handle ourselves without involving policemen.” She said it in the same tone she would have used for rats or the dustman.
“What about the maid?”
“What maid?”
She knew perfectly well which maid. “The one who recommended the store. Could she be involved?”
“She has nothing to do with this. Just because...”
There was something off in her voice, like she was going to say more and stopped herself. I pressed her for more. “Why did you send her away?”
I stood there staring until she grumbled, “If you must know, it seemed the best thing for her. I had just learned her fiancé had been stealing from me for months. Naturally I sent him away. I couldn’t really keep her around after that. The staff was whispering about her, and I think the memory was just too much for her to bear, poor thing. Her work was slipping, which was quite understandable when she was crying at the drop of a hat, so I suggested a change of scene. We agreed that it would not do for her to go back into service, not with that hanging over her head. She suggested London, so I wrote her a reference and gave her enough to tide her over until she found a respectable position.”
“So you didn’t arrange for her to work at Kleinman and Co.?”
“No, she found that on her own. She said a friend suggested it in London.”
“So that’s why she came to London? She had friends here?”
“Oh no, she thought it would be a nice change. Of course, she made friends once she arrived here. She's a very pleasant girl.”
“Then she worked somewhere else before she went to Kleinman?”
“Yes, she said a flower shop, I believe.”
“But you don’t remember?”
“No, I don’t think she said, and they never wrote for a reference; a letter of recommendation from me was enough. Although I can certainly understand why the Kleinmans would feel they needed something more specific, considering the nature of their shop.”
I could tell from her tone she did not understand how more than a letter from her could be needed at all. “How long ago did she leave your employ?”
“I’d say two years, maybe slightly less.”
“And did she suggest keeping the necklace at her shop?”
“Oh, no, that was my idea entirely. I knew she was there, of course. They had written to confirm the reference. When I needed someplace secure, naturally I thought of them. Writing for the reference did show attention to detail and security.”
“Did you tell them about her fiancé?”
“No, no. Why should she continue to suffer for what that snake did to her? Now, I think I have answered all of your questions. Thomson will see you out.” She turned on her heel and swept up the main staircase in a flurry of taffeta. I noticed she hadn’t mentioned Miss Eaton by name, but then she didn’t know that I knew who had been the maid.
Since I couldn’t very well follow her to her rooms, certainly not with Thomson standing there holding the door open, I turned on my own heel and swept out of the house. Fortunately, I remembered the steps were there and did not trip or do anything else to ruin my dramatic exit, even if it was only witnessed by Thomson and two small boys playing with a ball.
~ * ~ * ~
It was a bit of a walk from Lady Suffolk’s house to the nearest Underground station, and that gave me time to think. I seemed to have confirmed that the stone was hollow and had been made to conceal something. The threats sounded like blackmail to me, so whatever was inside that stone was probably proof of some scandal. And the thief was somehow connected to Lady Suffolk. This was the kind of information Inspector Wainwright needed to know; and if Lady Suffolk was being protected from bother by his superiors, this was no time to let him find out about it on his own. I consulted the map quickly and planned out a route to Scotland Yard.
But the t
rip to the Yard ending up being for naught. Neither Inspector Wainwright, nor Constable Edwards, nor Constable Kittering was there. I had to be content with leaving a note for Inspector Wainwright with as concise a description as I could manage. While I had the paper and pen, I scribbled a more detailed note to Kate asking if she had any ideas on figuring out what may have been inside the Heart of Night. I left Inspector Wainwright’s note with the receptionist and dropped Kate’s note off at the nearest aviary to have it delivered by bird, then set off for the address I had seen in Inspector Burrows’s file.
Chapter 17
MISS EATON LIVED IN A PERFECTLY normal-looking boarding house, red brick, with only one bell at the door that presumably went to the landlady’s flat and only a few modern steam pipes poking out. There was no set of message tubes, so no way to see if she was in other than ringing the bell and waiting for the landlady.
The woman who opened the door was thin with badly hennaed hair and misplaced rouge.
“I came to speak to Miss Connie Eaton.”
“She’s at work, dear, but if you’d like to leave a message.”
“I’m afraid it’s not the sort of thing I can leave a message for. Do you know when she’ll be back? You see, I wanted to talk to her about the death of her fiancé.”
The woman’s be-ringed hand flew to her chest, but she seemed genuinely distressed. “He died? I hadn’t heard. How awful for her. And he was just here yesterday for dinner and said how much he liked my rolls.”