Murder Flies the Coop

by Jessica Ellicott

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe the vicar would like to have the books back. They were in his vest pocket and were completely ruined,” Constable Gibbs said. “I doubt very much the vicar would even like to view them let alone to handle them.”

  “Ruined how?” Edwina asked.

  “Both of them were completely saturated with the victim’s blood. I expect they are completely illegible. Now if there’s nothing else, unlike the two of you, I have important work to get back to,” Constable Gibbs said.

  “You’re sure there were only two books in his pocket? I could have sworn Mrs. Plumptree reported three missing from his room.” Edwina turned to Beryl. “Although I’m not sure why I’m asking. Doris has never been known for her attention to detail.”

  While Edwina had said it hoping the constable would rise to the bait, it also happened to be true. Doris Gibbs on more than one occasion had left the house in mismatched shoes. More often than seemed possible she had forgotten her own husband in town and had headed home without him. One day she walked out of her house with her favorite budgie perched on her shoulder. It flew off never to be seen again.

  “I’ll have you know the contents of Mr. Cunningham’s pockets were thoroughly inventoried as per regulation as soon I reached the body,” Constable Gibbs said. She whipped out a folder and dangled a piece of paper right in front of Edwina’s nose before commencing to read what was written upon it. “One pocket handkerchief, two pounds and three shillings, a book of matches, two blood-soaked books on the subject of pigeon racing, and a wrapper from a boiled sweet.” Constable Gibbs smacked the paper back down on her desk and slapped the folder shut.

  “Edwina, it sounds as though we shall have to report this sad loss to the vicar,” Beryl said. “Thank you so much for your assistance. It’s always a pleasure to stop by to see you.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, as well you know. And if I find out the pair of you are still meddling in this case after you’ve been expressly instructed not to do so, I will arrest you,” Constable Gibbs said. It occurred to Edwina that Constable Gibbs seemed to have conveniently forgotten whom it was who had solved the murder that had occurred only a few months before. She was surprised to discover she had entirely lost patience with the constable’s posturing. There really was something quite magical about Beryl’s libations. The constable’s face was suffused with color and an unladylike quantity of perspiration was making its way down her low forehead. Edwina reached her small, square hand across the counter and drummed her fingers upon its surface.

  “I urge you to reconsider, Constable. Perhaps you have not heard about the investigative services we have been privileged to render to His Majesty from time to time. I assure you it would be most ill-advised to impede this investigation, or any other we decide to undertake, if you value your own position in law enforcement,” Edwina said. “I bid you good day.”

  Edwina turned on her heel and strode out of the police station with her head held high, not even waiting for Beryl to follow her. Which, as it turned out, she did, directly on Edwina’s heels.

  “That was marvelous, Ed,” Beryl said, grabbing hold of Edwina’s arm. Edwina felt as though she had somehow floated up and out of her own body and that she was looking down on an entirely new version of herself. “Although I must give you a bit of a ribbing about claiming a connection with royalty after all the trouble you have given me for doing so.”

  “I’m thoroughly stunned by all that just took place. The only thing I can say in my defense is that you have had a shocking influence upon my character,” Edwina said.

  “I’m pleased as punch but am not really surprised.” Beryl beamed at her. That was the only word for it. Beryl beamed with enough wattage to light the high street on a midwinter’s night.

  “Of course you weren’t. You were the one who recommended your liquid courage in the first place. You must have known the effect it would have on my temperament.”

  “I wasn’t referring to the power of gin fizzes. They aren’t magical, after all,” Beryl said. “I firmly believe that within reason, of course, imbibing in strong drink only encourages what is already lurking under the surface. You are a sleeping tiger on the inside, Edwina Davenport, and all it took was the right sort of pointy stick to wake it up.”

  Edwina was not sure if she was proud to be compared with such a ferocious creature or horrified to know that she might put someone in mind of a wild beast. As the comment had come from Beryl she decided it was most likely a compliment and determined to treat it as such.

  “Thank you. But now, if you don’t mind, this tiger would like to head back home for a nap. There has been altogether too much excitement for one day.” Beryl tipped her head to one side, a pose Edwina knew meant she was concocting something else for them to do. She felt the promise of her cozy armchair, a Zane Grey novel, and a few moments in Crumpet’s calming company slipping away.

  “We have a client to consider, remember. As the police station did not turn up Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s missing jewelry, we shall have to continue the search,” Beryl said, steering Edwina down the steps away from the police station and towards the street. “We can stop in at the Beeches but only to pick up my automobile. I for one do not relish the idea of walking to the village of Hambley this afternoon.”

  “What business do we have at the Hambley mine? I should think in order to keep Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s business a secret we ought to steer clear of her husband’s place of work,” Edwina said.

  “We know that her jewels are not in his room at the boardinghouse. We also know they were not found upon his person when his body was discovered. The next logical place to search is in his desk at the Hambley mining office,” Beryl said.

  “But we have no business doing so if we do not indicate that we are there on behalf of Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe,” Edwina said.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to stoop to stretching the truth for a second time today,” Beryl said.

  “Are you sure it’s only been stretched twice?” Edwina asked. By her count they had told enough porky pies between them to cast serious doubt upon the likelihood that either of them could be considered upstanding citizens.

  “Who’s counting?” Beryl said. “The point is we are going to have to employ a bit of deception if we wish to serve our client. That is the nature of the business we are in and the sooner you reconcile yourself to the necessity of the odd little white lie, the happier we both will be.”

  Chapter 17

  Beryl bundled Edwina into the automobile as soon as it came into view. She slid behind the wheel and tore off down the drive with her customary gusto. Edwina felt the courage she had enjoyed back at the police station entirely evaporate. Beryl’s driving had that effect on her. She doubted she would ever be enough of a tiger to enjoy outings in Beryl’s motorcar. She remained bolt upright with her hands braced against the dashboard until the vehicle screeched to a stop directly in front of the mining office.

  She was not the least bit happy with the story Beryl had concocted to explain their visit. She was even less pleased with the role Beryl had assigned to her in the deception.

  “Remember what I said, with or without the emboldening effects of gin you are, in your heart of hearts, a tiger. I am relying on you to bear that in mind,” Beryl said, giving Edwina’s hand a reassuring squeeze before sliding out the driver’s side door. Edwina exited the vehicle with as much enthusiasm as a small boy heading for a bath. She reminded herself of their outstanding debts at the local shops, squared her shoulders, and followed Beryl into the colliery office.

  Miss Chilvers sat just as she had before behind her tidy wooden desk. She glanced up when they entered, and from the stony expression fixed on her face she seemed no more pleased to see them on this occasion than she had on the last.

  “And how may I help you ladies today?” Miss Chilvers asked. “I’m quite certain you do not have an appointment.” The secretary ran a well-groomed, elegant finger across an app
ointment diary that even from several steps away Edwina could see was entirely blank.

  “As Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe is one of the leading citizens of Kent, we were quite certain he would wish to make a donation to the tombola stall for the May Day celebration which will be held on the green in Walmsley Parva,” Edwina said. “I am on the committee which organizes the event and felt sure he would not wish to be overlooked when so many other prominent people are being included.” Miss Chilvers pushed back her chair and held up a hand like a traffic warden.

  “Please wait here while I ask Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe if he is willing to see you,” Miss Chilvers said. The secretary crossed the room, rapped upon the door to her employer’s office, and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind her. Faster than Edwina would’ve thought possible, Beryl crossed the room and opened a door centered on the wall behind Miss Chilvers’ desk.

  “Quick, there is just enough room for you to hide in here,” Beryl said, pointing into the small, dark space. “I’ll tell her you needed the powder room and I will ask her loudly for tea. When you hear her leave the room to fix it, come on out and look through Mr. Cunningham’s desk.”

  Edwina squeezed herself between a stack of cartons and a filing cabinet. Beryl shut the door and blotted out all of the light. For a moment Edwina felt a wave of claustrophobia. She took herself firmly in hand by replaying in her mind the conversation that she had had with Constable Gibbs. Surely tigers were not afraid of the dark. After a moment her eyesight adjusted to the gloom and she noticed the outline of a keyhole. Silently she bent over and peered through it, thankful that her back had not decided to play up that day.

  From her crouched position she managed to get a surprisingly decent view of the door to Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe’s office. She watched as Miss Chilvers beckoned Beryl inside with ill grace. Beryl’s voice boomed out across the room and into the closet.

  “I don’t suppose you have any tea on the go? I shouldn’t like to ask for myself but Miss Davenport just can’t seem to get enough of the stuff,” Beryl said. Edwina could not make out what was said by the secretary or her employer, but within a second or two Miss Chilvers had headed down a narrow corridor and out of sight. Edwina turned the doorknob as silently as she was able and crept out of the closet.

  As there were only two desks in the room, she made straight for the one Miss Chilvers did not make a habit of occupying. She tugged on the kneehole drawer and found it slid open with ease. A quick perusal of its contents revealed nothing more sinister than a fountain pen missing its nib and a pencil sharpener with a rusty blade. She tried the top drawer to the left of the kneehole and found it locked tight.

  Although she considered Beryl to be the one more likely in possession of dubious skills, the fact was she had some experience at picking locks. Her mother had been a forgetful creature and more often than not locked drawers to desks, doors to cabinets, and even lids of trunks before promptly forgetting where she had placed the keys. Since Mrs. Davenport was not a woman known for her patience Edwina had found it in her best interest to learn how to open a wide variety of locks using improvised tools. It always took a bit of doing but, generally, she managed in the end.

  She opened the pencil drawer once more and rummaged about. In the back, under a packet of throat pastilles, she found a paper clip. She unbent it and knelt down before the drawer. She worked the end of the paper clip into the lock and began to twist it this way and that. Just as she felt the tumbler click, she heard footsteps behind her.

  “I assure you, Miss Davenport, the powder room cannot be found in there,” Miss Chilvers said, banging a tea tray down on the top of Mr. Cunningham’s desk. “But I don’t suppose that’s what you’re looking for, is it?” Edwina tried to call upon the tiger within but found herself feeling disappointingly domesticated as she got to her feet and faced the self-righteous secretary. She knew telling lies would eventually get them in trouble. She would have to try the truth and trust that Miss Chilvers would be swayed by the real story.

  “May I speak frankly with you as one career woman to another?” Edwina asked.

  Something in Miss Chilvers’ demeanor softened ever so slightly. Perhaps it was the set of her jaw or maybe the slope of her shoulders. Whatever it was, Edwina felt a flutter of hope.

  “If you feel you must,” Miss Chilvers said.

  “Miss Helliwell and I are not here exclusively to solicit a donation for the May Day celebration. We would, of course, be delighted for your employer to contribute to such a worthy cause. However, we are also here on behalf of a client who wished for us to investigate Mr. Cunningham’s disappearance,” Edwina said.

  “I had understood that you had already found Mr. Cunningham’s body. It would seem that your business was concluded,” Miss Chilvers said.

  “It would be if we were only asked to locate Mr. Cunningham himself. I hope that I can trust your discretion and not bring dishonor down upon a man who can no longer speak for himself,” Edwina said.

  “I have always held Mr. Cunningham in high regard. I will not say anything to discredit him,” Miss Chilvers said.

  “We were hired not only to find Mr. Cunningham but also to discover the whereabouts of the funds entrusted to him in his capacity as the pigeon racing club treasurer. Unfortunately for our client, the funds went missing at the same time as Mr. Cunningham himself. I was checking to see if he had placed them for safekeeping here at his place of employment,” Edwina said.

  “And have you found them?” Miss Chilvers said.

  “I was about to unlock this drawer when you came upon me. I have not had the chance to look inside,” Edwina said, pointing at the paper clip still wedged into the lock. “Shall I continue? If the funds are not in the drawer it may be that Mr. Cunningham was not the one who took them.” Miss Chilvers looked at Edwina and then down at the drawer.

  “If it will help to clear his name, go right ahead. Although I don’t know how long your friend will be able to keep Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe’s attention. He is sure to start shouting at me for something at any moment.” Miss Chilvers darted a glance at the door to her employer’s office. Beryl’s muffled voice came through it.

  “Beryl is more than capable of securing the attention of most any gentleman she chooses,” Edwina said. “But perhaps it would be best if you stood shielding me from view should either of them decide to open his office door.” Miss Chilvers nodded and shifted her stance slightly. Edwina directed her attention once more to the paper clip and within seconds had opened the lock. She slid the drawer open and looked inside.

  The drawer was filled with ledgers and envelopes tied up with serviceable cording. She reached her hand all the way to the back of the drawer and felt her heart stutter in her chest as her fingers wrapped around a box tucked in the back. She pulled it forward and lifted off the lid. Inside lay nothing more than some empty paper wrappers and a few smears of chocolate. It would seem the only thing Mr. Cunningham was hiding in his desk was a predilection for sweets.

  Miss Chilvers smiled triumphantly. “Nothing more nefarious than an empty chocolates box, I see,” she said. “I trust this will clear Mr. Cunningham’s good name?”

  “That depends on you,” Edwina said. “Our client is very eager to keep this matter private. I would not have mentioned it to you had you not found me in a compromising position that required explanation. I certainly have no intention of spreading such tales to the public at large.” Miss Chilvers nodded in agreement.

  “If you’ll just follow me into Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe’s office, you can let your friend know you are done nosing about.” Miss Chilvers retrieved the tea tray from the top of Mr. Cunningham’s desk and led the way to her employer’s office.

  Chapter 18

  “So she caught you red-handed, did she?” Beryl said, putting the automobile in reverse. Edwina had looked well and truly rattled when she entered the room in Miss Chilvers’ wake. Not that the average person would have been able to tell, mind you, but with years of experience under her
belt, Beryl knew the signs. As an accomplished card player, Beryl prided herself on her ability to pick up on those subtle facial twitches and mannerisms that betrayed emotion. She was quite certain it was a skill that would serve her in good stead as a private detective. There had been no doubt about it. Edwina’s face had most definitely twitched.

  “I don’t know as I’ve ever been so embarrassed in all my life,” Edwina said. “Assuredly it has been a most unsettling day. All I want to do is head home, kick off my shoes, and settle back with a hot drink and a good book.”

  “That we will do, just as soon as we take another look at Mr. Cunningham’s pigeon loft,” Beryl said. Out of the corner of her eye Beryl saw Edwina’s usually upright posture slump in defeat. “It has to be done, Ed. I wouldn’t insist if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” She could not stand to see her friend looking so crushed. Honestly it was quite disturbing. Beryl firmly applied her foot to the gas pedal and felt a sense of relief as Edwina’s posture regained its customary rigidity.

  “I’m sorry you were caught but I’d have to say our visit to the Hambley mining office was quite the success nevertheless. Don’t you agree?” Beryl said as the countryside whipped past them in a blur.

  “I was completely humiliated and we still did not turn up Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s jewelry. I don’t see how you can count it as any sort of success at all,” Edwina said.

  “I counted a success in two ways.” Beryl took one hand off the wheel and raised her index finger. “Firstly, we know one more place where the jewels are not. Secondly, we secured a large donation of coal as a tombola prize. Time well spent in my opinion.”

  “Don’t forget we managed to press Miss Chilvers into duty at the tombola booth for the fete,” Edwina said. Beryl felt certain Edwina was not irreparably damaged if she was already turning her attention to her civic responsibilities.