by L. A. Nisula
It seemed he had first claimed to be home at the time, but his landlady had not seen him come in, and she had known the time every other tenant in the building arrived, as she listened so she could lock the door at eleven o’clock. That alibi had a neat line through it, although with Inspector Wainwright’s handwriting, it was still possible to read everything. Below it, there was a line saying he had worked late at the office and had gone to a hotel when he realized his landlady would have locked up, but that couldn’t be verified as he couldn’t remember the name of the hotel or produce a receipt. I suspected I knew where he’d been, and he was trying to keep his Daniel out of it. Certainly, the last thing he needed was Inspector Fulson poking around in that. As soon as Kate was done with Inspector Wainwright, I would have to go see Mr. Grayson and try to help him find a way to prove his alibi without admitting to another crime. I tried to follow the thread of Kate’s story, which seemed to have switched to a detailed description of protecting the copper covering the broken window from the Stantons’ cat and all of the methods she had considered and rejected before settling on the felt, one of which seemed to involve a trained pack of wild dogs and a fair bit of bacon.
I’d barely leaned back against the nearby display case when Inspector Wainwright snapped the folder shut. “That should be sufficient. I will return if I have any other questions.” And he left the shop without so much as a goodbye.
“Well, he’s much friendlier when he has Lupo with him,” Kate said as she started re-arranging the display that had been disordered by Inspector Wainwright’s notes. “I wonder what that was really all about.”
“The folder,” I said and told them both what I’d read.
“I thought it seemed odd he left as soon as you stopped reading it,” Ada said with a shake of her head. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d actually almost ask for assistance.”
“Do you think there’s some way to give this Mr. Grayson an alibi without compromising him and his friend?” Kate asked.
“I hope so. I’m going to go see him and at least try.”
“I suppose, as he spoke to you about his personal relations privately before, he’d be more comfortable without an audience.”
I was very glad Kate had come to that conclusion on her own. I hadn’t been quite certain how to suggest it. “I’ll come back and tell you what I find out.”
“We’ll have tea waiting,” Ada said before Kate could offer to come along anyway.
Chapter 11
WHEN I ENTERED MR. GRAYSON’S BUILDING, the same clerk was at the front desk. He looked up as soon as I entered. It seemed easiest to be vague about my arrival. “I was here a few of days ago, speaking to Mr. Grayson. Could I see him again for a moment?”
“If you’d like to make an appointment...” He took out the schedule book.
I expected Mr. Grayson would suddenly find himself called away if he saw an appointment with me in his book. “It would only take a moment. I had a couple of questions, just clarification on some things we spoke about. It’s the sort of thing he could slip in between appointments easily. If he’s busy, I don’t mind waiting.”
The clerk looked down at the schedule book. “I’ll see if he’s free. It might be possible. Do you have a card?”
I handed over one of my cards. As the clerk stood, I leaned forward so I could see the book. Mr. Grayson’s last appointment had ended twenty minutes before; he didn’t have another until after lunch. That would be more than enough time for me. I slipped around the desk and followed the clerk back, staying just far enough behind him that he didn’t notice I’d followed until it was too late to say anything without being rude.
The clerk stopped outside of Mr. Grayson’s open door. “A Miss Pengear to see you, Mr. Grayson.”
Mr. Grayson looked up and saw me in the doorway. He pushed his hair off of his forehead and nodded. “Tell her I can see her for a few minutes only.”
“Very good.” The clerk brushed past me and left the office.
I went in and closed the door behind me.
“So it’s that sort of a conversation, then?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I already spoke to the police.”
“Inspector Wainwright only, or Inspector Fulson as well?”
“Only the one, I think it was Wainwright, or something close to that. I have a card somewhere.”
“It had to be him. You’re in his notes. That’s why I’m here.”
Mr. Grayson sighed. “I didn’t think you’d suddenly found a contract you needed help with. But I told him everything.”
“Everything but the truth. That’s the problem. I really think he wants to cross you off of his list of suspects, but you told him so many different things, he can’t. You were with Daniel, weren’t you?”
Mr. Grayson’s head snapped up.
“You mentioned his name when I was here before.”
“I know. It’s just a shock to have someone else know his name.”
“But you were with him?”
Mr. Grayson stared at the wall. “I’m not letting anything happen to him. Better I go to jail than both of us.”
“It’s a murder case.”
Mr. Grayson went a shade whiter, which told me he had known that and he was still not speaking.
“Inspector Wainwright is very determined. I don’t think he wants to look into your alibi too closely, but he will if he thinks it will help him catch a murderer. He will find out where you were, and if you force him to acknowledge it, you’ll be putting him in a position where he has no choice but to act on that knowledge. I know he doesn’t want to because he wouldn’t have willingly asked me to look into it if he had any other choice. Where were you really?”
“You really think he’ll find out?”
“No matter how careful you were. Tell me, and I’ll tell him in a way that he can ignore.”
Mr. Grayson stared at the desk. I stayed silent and let him consider the possibilities.
“We went to dinner and the gallery showing, just as I said, then I spent the night at his flat.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“No. We’re very careful that no one sees us, that no one can figure out...”
“So no landlady who might have seen you go in?”
“No, he’s in a proper flat. No curfew, no meals. The landlord doesn’t even live in the building. It’s why we meet there. None of his neighbors notice who goes in and out. I meant to leave, but I lost track of the time, and it was too late to get into my building. It’s locked up at eleven, and I didn’t want to wake my landlady and have her ask where I’d been, so I stayed there.”
“No one at the office noticed you hadn’t been home?”
He shook his head. “I borrowed one of Daniel’s waistcoats. One dark suit looks the same as another. No one questioned it.”
“But Daniel could give you an alibi?”
“You are not involving Daniel in this.”
“You do realize that, if you’re arrested for murder, Daniel might get himself involved?” I’d certainly think very little of this Daniel if he didn’t.
“That doesn’t mean I have to drag him into it. But yes, Daniel would certainly be able to verify that I was at his flat all night.”
“You do realize you could say you were drunk and slept on his couch, don’t you?”
He laughed. “Yes, that thought had occurred to me. But it would be a clue to what was going on, and with the threat of exposure already everywhere, it’s not a chance I want to take.”
I’d almost forgotten how close exposure must seem when he was receiving blackmail notes. “Have you had any more notes?”
“Not yet. But now that the pattern’s changed, I keep dreading the arrival of the post. I can never be certain there won’t be another one. When they came to my rooms, I was constantly worried my landlady would see them. Now they’re coming to the office, and I have to worry that Mr. Bains will look at them. He’s the gentleman who showed you in.”
/> “I take he sorts the mail?”
“Exactly. He’s not supposed to open it if it’s addressed to someone specific, but who knows what goes on.”
“It seems rather careless of the blackmailer. I mean, if your secret is exposed, then there’s no reason for you to continue paying him.”
“Unless Mr. Bains decided to try a bit of blackmail himself,” Mr. Grayson said ruefully.
“Do you really think he’d do that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know about you, but you seem the best way to get rid of the police.”
“It would still seem risky for the blackmailer. He has no way of knowing what Mr. Bains would do with the post.”
“As I’ve never blackmailed anyone, I have no idea what the proper procedure is.” Mr. Grayson did not sound amused.
I thought it best to cut my visit short. “Neither do I, I’m afraid. But at least I can tell Inspector Wainwright you seem to have a proper alibi for the time in question. Where is Daniel’s flat?” I saw him bristle at the question and quickly added, “Not an address, just a general part of town. Hopefully, it will make it impossible for you to have been at the scene of the crime.”
“Marylebone.”
So, somewhere not far from me. I could ask Mrs. Albright if she knew anyone who might be this Daniel and might be able to alibi Mr. Grayson if it came to it. Unfortunately, it was also close enough to Mayfair to make it possible for him to have gotten there fairly quickly. “Thank you. I’ll try not to bother you again.”
“Try?”
I shrugged. “Would you prefer to speak to Inspector Wainwright again?”
He nearly laughed at that. “I prefer to be left alone.”
“Wouldn’t we all? Good day. I’ll see myself out.”
I went from Mr. Grayson’s office to the nearest aviary, as the message for Inspector Wainwright was so short I wouldn’t need to struggle to fit it on the small sheet of paper needed for the cheapest bird. “Know how to confirm alibi,” seemed enough to set his investigation in a more productive direction, and let him know I was working on it. When I got to Paddington Street, I’d see if Mrs. Albright knew who Daniel might be and try to get a proper confirmation if I could. If not, perhaps someone else would know. Mrs. Gibbons was charwoman for several buildings in the area, and Mrs. Jenkins at the bakery knew everything about everyone, it sometimes seemed, particularly if they didn’t want it known. Not that I would say anything about Mr. Grayson, but looking for someone named Daniel who had been at the Prescott Gallery on Tuesday should be safe enough. I could say I’d found something of his, or he’d been interesting in hiring me for some typing and I’d lost his card. Once the note was sent off, I took the Underground back to Mayfair.
When I got back to the shop, Kate and Ada weren’t even pretending to work, at least not on the inventory. They had tea all laid out, and one of them had gone out and bought a Victoria sponge, from Mrs. Gillington I assumed.
Kate waited until I was through the door to ask, “Did he have an alibi?”
“Exactly what we all thought. He was with his friend, who he absolutely does not want to involve.”
“We can’t blame him for that,” Ada said reasonably.
“The friend lives in Marylebone, so I’m going to see if Mrs. Albright has a guess who he could be. Then we could have a proper confirmation if anyone saw him around.”
Kate nodded. “But Inspector Wainwright can mark him off the list. I suppose that’s a good thing. But you do realize that by finding alibis for everyone else involved in this case, we’ve more or less proven I’m the only one who could have done it.”
“Nonsense,” Ada said. “What’s your motive?”
“Inspector Fulson would say I wanted the blackmail materials for myself. That is Inspector Wainwright’s theory on the abduction at the moment.”
“But you weren’t being blackmailed,” I pointed out. “How would you know about the materials and their potential value?”
“How would anyone besides the victims?” Kate countered.
“Perhaps there are more victims that Inspector Wainwright hasn’t found yet,” Ada offered.
I stared at my tea. Something about what Kate had said was sounding familiar. “How would anyone else know?”
“They’d hardly talk about it to their friends,” Kate said.
Ada leaned over to check the level of the tea in the pot. “I suppose that would rather defeat the purpose of blackmailing someone if they went to their friends and said ‘you’ll never believe this letter I got; they’re asking a whole fifty pounds to keep that little affair secret,’ wouldn’t it?”
That was it. That was what Mr. Grayson had been worried about as well. “Someone could find out by accident. And they would have to have known that Mr. Purnell was going to be in the alley that night, or at least in this general area.”
Kate looked up. “You’re thinking of Mr. Frankes.”
“He wasn’t the only one who saw Mr. Clairidge’s blackmail letter.”
“Mr. Hanson. Of course, we haven’t looked at him at all, and Mr. Frankes said they both saw it.” Kate pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “No time like the present. Let’s go back there before the close the office up for good and ask him where he was.”
I was going to point out that questioning a likely murder suspect might be best left to Inspector Wainwright, but Kate already had our hats and coats in hand, and it did seem rather disingenuous to question Kate’s idea after we’d already been to the office multiple times asking questions, generally at my suggestion, and the murder was Inspector Fulson’s case anyway, and we certainly couldn’t expect him to look into our theory. I looked over at Ada for assistance.
“I’ll get word to Inspector Wainwright that the pair of you might have solved it and are going to check the alibi. He won’t want to miss out on the end of the case.”
I smiled my thanks as Kate handed me my coat. Inspector Wainwright would come if he thought we were close to finding the killer even if it wasn’t his case, to be certain we didn’t do anything to disturb evidence or contaminate a witness, if nothing else.
~ * ~ * ~
Mr. Clairidge’s office was locked when we arrived, but peering through the window, I could see the desks inside still had papers on them, so it looked as if they were still working on closing it up. While we were looking through the window, we saw Mr. Frankes come out of the back office with a stack of books. I tapped on the glass until he looked up and noticed us. He gave a cheery wave and went to unlock the door.
“Miss Pengear, Miss Ferris, hello. As you can see, we’re finishing up here. We want everything in order before the new owner comes to take over the office. Did you have some other questions?”
“We did,” I said before Kate could answer. “We realized we hadn’t heard from Mr. Hanson. I believe you said he also saw the blackmail note?”
“Indeed. It was his reaction that brought Mr. Clairidge out that day.”
“We thought perhaps Mr. Clairidge might have said something else to him out of your hearing.”
“It’s certainly possible. He trusted him with far more than he trusted me, so long as it didn’t involve more work. He was more than happy to entrust all of that to me. But you probably weren’t interested in that, and I probably shouldn’t say it with everyone looking for motives. Mr. Hanson is in the back office, packing up the ledgers. I’ll show you through.”
We followed Mr. Frankes through to the back office, which was more than half packed-away, making it impossible to tell anything about the former inhabitant.
“Mr. Hanson, these are the ladies that were concerned about Mr. Clairidge’s death.”
Mr. Hanson didn’t look up from the books on the desk. “I’ll be sure to pass your condolences on to his family.”
“Thank you,” I said, as there was no point antagonizing him until we’d actually accused him of murder. “We were wondering if you could answer a few questions.”
“If it is ab
out business matters you had with the firm, you’ll have to speak to the new owners. His nephew will be taking over the building in a few weeks. He will be able to sort everything out for you.”
“They’re not clients, Mr. Hanson.” I rather thought I heard an implied you would know that if you did more work around here.
“Then I don’t see what they have to ask about.”
Mr. Frankes leaned in. “The incident, of course. They have a friend, you see.”
“No, I do not see.”
I was beginning to think this had been an even worse idea than I’d thought, but there didn’t seem to be any choice but to press on. “We’re worried about him. With the blackmail and...everything...” I wasn’t quite certain what to say without spoiling someone’s case. Being vague seemed the best option. “So we were hoping you might know something that would help.”
“Just because the man got his head knocked in in a fight on Cork Street doesn’t mean I know a thing about it.”
“Clifford Street,” Mr. Frankes corrected. “He was murdered on Clifford Street. It was in all the newspapers.”
I noticed a very important difference in their answers. “The newspapers? So the police didn’t tell you?”
Mr. Frankes looked confused. “They didn’t tell us anything, just asked questions. Lots of questions, mostly about where we were.”
So no one had mention of Cork Street to him. And as far as I knew, Inspector Wainwright had known nothing about where the original fight had taken place when he’d questioned them. I had no way of knowing what Inspector Fulson had found out, but from what Constable Jackson had told us, they knew the body had been moved, but not where it had been moved from, and even if they had found the original crime scene, if no one had mentioned it to Mr. Frankes, it was highly unlikely someone had mentioned it to Mr. Hanson. That seemed to confirm it. Mr. Hanson knew where the fight had occurred. He knew where Mr. Clairidge had been killed. The best thing to do was get out of the office and tell Inspector Wainwright at once. “Thank you for seeing us. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”