A Spartan Murder

by L. A. Nisula

  “I was told it was Professor Headly who went into the field now.”

  “That’s right. I fell at a site in Crete and broke my leg. I haven’t been well enough to climb around ruins since, so they had to start sending someone else. And that was Professor Headly.”

  “But that wasn’t a motive?”

  “Not at all. My leg isn’t well enough yet. If it ever does heal up, I have seniority. I could have petitioned to get my old job back and had a good chance of being approved for it. I’ve published far more than he has and have a longer history of work in the field. If the focus was in some way related to Sparta, then he might well have been the better choice, but otherwise, any archeological trips would have been offered to me, assuming I’m capable of it physically. It would be a motive for him to do me in, I suppose, if my leg were up to it. But it isn’t.”

  “What about now? If you're not well, who will lead the group?”

  “Well, Graham isn't qualified at all, and Armstrong has a wife so he may not want to make the trip, and his qualifications aren't really up to it anyway. Not for field work. I don’t think I can recall him ever having been to a dig site. He specializes in translations, you see. I think they will have to inquire if one of the other colleges has someone willing to take over. I don't think it will be hard to fill the position. It really is a good opportunity for someone who might be qualified but not have the seniority in a department.”

  “Was there anyone in particular you're thinking of?”

  He laughed. “You really want this to be a motive, don't you?”

  “Then it wouldn't be you.”

  Both men looked like they wanted to say something more to that, but neither could think of a response.

  I tried to come up with another question to fill the silence as I finished my tea, but nothing occurred to me as I stared at the dregs in my cup. “Thank you for your help.”

  Mr. Langley stood up and held the door for me. “We're certainly happy to be of any assistance. Please don't hesitate to return if you have any more questions.” They didn't seem to be glad to be rid of me, so I assumed they were telling me the truth.

  Chapter 3

  When I left Professor Brookwald’s office, I thought of going to look for Inspector Burrows, but before I could decide where to start looking, I spotted him in the hallway, almost like he had been waiting for me. He gestured for me to follow him into the nearest empty meeting room.

  “So, what do you think of my suspects?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, then stopped. I didn’t think Inspector Burrows would take anything I said badly, but he was a Scotland Yard inspector. If I told him I suspected something that was technically a crime was going on, even if the law was ridiculous and I suspected he disagreed with it in the most complete and personal way possible, would he be obligated to do something about it? “Did I ever tell you that I once met Robbie Ross?”

  Inspector Burrows stared at me, clearly attempting to figure out how I had gotten off on this tangent.

  “It was at a bookshop in France of all places, Tours. He very kindly got a book down from the top shelf. It happened to be a copy of Oscar Wilde’s children’s stories, which was why he introduced himself. Really one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.”

  I saw the moment Inspector Burrows understood which Robbie Ross I was talking about and why my babbling was relevant. “So what do you think?”

  “I think there’s a fair bit of subtext behind the conversation. Graham really doesn’t like Brookwald for no good reason.”

  Inspector Burrows smiled a little. “I’m writing it in my report as professional rivalry.”

  So he did suspect the same thing I did. “That would be a good way to report it.” I leaned in. “I take it you asked me down here to look into the nature of the—rivalry and see if it is related to the crime?”

  “Miss Pengear, you know I can’t officially ask you in on an investigation. I asked you here because you are a suspect.”

  “Of course. But there’s no objection to me staying for a day or two, is there?”

  “I have to ask you to be reachable until you are cleared as a suspect, but I could find you here as easily as in London.”

  “Then maybe I need a small holiday to observe my tame dons, as you call them.”

  Inspector Burrows smiled, and I knew he’d been expecting me to stay, although the carpet bag I’d brought down probably had been a clue. “Then let me know where I can reach you in town. I’ve been set up at a desk in the police station across from the college, not the main station.”

  “And how do the policemen there feel about that?”

  “Since they shoved a second desk into the inspector’s office which barely had room for his, not very friendly I’m afraid. But it is close to the scene of the crime, and that’s what’s important.”

  “Then I’ll drop by and let you know where you can reach me.” I was about to ask him if he had any suggestions on lodgings for me, but Constable Lipson came into the room.

  “The medical examiner is on the telephone, sir.”

  “Thank you, Constable. I’d best see what he has to say, Miss Pengear.”

  I knew Inspector Burrows wouldn’t share any of that conversation with me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the autopsy results anyway, so I smiled at Constable Lipson and slipped out of the office and back out to the main hallway.

  So who to speak to next? I went back towards the main office area and spotted Mr. Kendall coming from one of the offices. That seemed as good a place as any to start. “Good afternoon.”

  Mr. Kendall started in surprise and dropped the papers he was carrying. I hurried to help him collect them.

  “I’m terribly sorry.” I got a look at a handful of the papers, but they were nothing more interesting than student exams.

  “No, no, I was woolgathering. Nothing to worry about.” He made an untidy pile of the papers in his arms.

  When he didn’t offer anything else, I went on. “I was hoping to have a bit of a chat with you anyway. You seem to know everything that goes on in the department, and I was hoping....”

  He cut me off. “I assure you, miss, I know very little about the gossip or the inner workings here.”

  “But you knew Professor Headly’s schedule. Surely none of the other students are so dedicated to their positions.”

  “That was nothing more than chance. If you don’t mind, I have to look over these test papers before the next class.” He didn’t wait for an answer before hurrying down the hallway.

  I sighed. I had thought he’d known far more about Professor Headly’s schedule than he should; now I was sure of it. But why did it worry him so to hear me ask about it, or even to compliment him on his knowledge of the department? I continued on towards the common area. When I reached it, I looked at the people milling about. Mr. Kendall was not the sort to gossip, so whom could I get information from? All of the department seemed to be made up of the same sort; men with serious faces and no time for me. They were probably inveterate gossips among themselves, but if I asked anything related to the case, they would look at me as a typical female poking around what didn’t concern me. I watched them, hoping for some ideas.

  Now there was a woman seated at the secretary’s desk in the front of the office, serious, with dark hair pulled back severely and an expression of general irritation with everyone. Mr. Redmond passed her desk and handed her a file then hurried away before I could decide if I should stop him and try to talk. Another assistant I didn’t know stopped and asked her where the records for the Linguistics lecture were. Professor Armstrong came by and grabbed a ledger book from her desk without saying thank you. She was what I needed; invisible and centrally located. I crossed the office and stopped at her desk. She didn’t look up immediately. I could see when she noticed I wasn’t one of the men running past her desk and addressed me. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m one of the people the police brought down here.”

  “Did you n
eed to find them? I believe the inspector has set up a temporary office at the police station.”

  She was keeping everything strictly business. “He told me.” I needed another approach. “Do you know of anyplace a lady alone could go to lunch?”

  “There are plenty of good pubs in the area.” She wasn’t picking up on my begging for information.

  “It’s so difficult when you don’t know anyone in town.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  I needed another approach. I tried being direct. There was no one close by, so I leaned in and murmured, “Inspector Burrows asked me down here about the murder. I was hoping to get a feel for the politics of the office.”

  “You’re with Scotland Yard?” She was both surprised and intrigued.

  “Not officially, of course. But sometimes I can see things that people would hide from him, and he’ll listen to me if I find something useful.”

  She took her handbag out of her desk. “I’m Miss Fenchurch, the department secretary. Would you like to eat lunch with me, so you don’t have to eat alone?”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  The pub Miss Fenchurch brought me to was a short walk from the college. There was a large front dining room looking out over the street and a smaller one behind, with low walls dividing it into even smaller eating areas and several small tables. Miss Fenchurch ordered our food at the counter then found us a table in the smaller room. When the waitress had brought our meal and left, she leaned in. “Was there anything in particular you were interested in?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I glanced around and saw that the people at the neighboring tables were all bent over, intent on their own conversations. “I’m trying to get a feel for the atmosphere in the department.”

  “The atmosphere?”

  “If there was anything you could sense that might suggest someone had reason to want to be rid of Professor Headly.” When she didn’t offer anything, I went on. “Is there any reason for him to have a professional rivalry with Professor Brookwald, for example?”

  “There is definitely some hostility in the atmosphere, but I don’t think it has to do with them. Professor Brookwald works on very specific areas of Athenian culture. He used to be in charge of the student groups going to Athens and the archeological sites until he broke his leg. He’s hoping it will improve enough for him to be able to return to that. But his qualifications are so far beyond anyone else in the department. Really, there would be no question if it weren’t for his leg. Professor Headly specialized in Spartan culture. Although he didn’t have the qualifications that Professor Brookwald has for Athenian, he was still well-qualified and published quite often on several areas of Greek culture. He’s known for being a well-rounded scholar.”

  “What about Professor Armstrong?”

  “He specializes in translations, so not really the same sort of thing as the others. He would not have been interested in the archeology at all. But he does work for several publishers. He also helps with the college itself. He's well known for raising money to fund special projects.”

  “Professor Graham seems less, um, qualified than the others.”

  She looked down at her cup. “I assure you he is fully qualified for the position he holds, but no, he has not done the research the others have.”

  “Is there a reason he’s kept around, then?”

  She smiled at her shepherd’s pie. “He is very skilled in the art of cricket.”

  I stabbed at a chip with my fork. “Cricket?”

  She nodded. “We like to pride ourselves on our academics, but the college is still run by men, and they can still be little boys wanting to outdo each other.” She shrugged. “He is also popular as a tutor for a certain sort of student from a certain sort of family.”

  “Can you tell me what sort?”

  She looked around the pub. When she was certain no one she needed to worry about was around, she leaned in and murmured, “The sort who has more money than brains and won’t be expected to do more in the future than fulfill the entail. We get enough of them to give him a decent amount of work, and the family name doesn’t hurt.”

  “Family name?”

  She relaxed back in her seat. “You’ve heard of the Graham Steamworks, I’m sure.”

  “So he’s related to the Grahams of the tinkering company?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m surprised he went into classics, then. But I suppose he doesn’t need the money.”

  She looked up. “You mean because of the business? Oh, he doesn’t get anything from that.”

  “But if he’s related...”

  “He is. His cousin runs it now. The Graham brothers started it, but Professor Graham’s father had a problem with gambling. He finally had to sell all his shares to his brother to cover his debts. He did not choose his lenders carefully enough.”

  “So Professor Graham gets nothing from the company?”

  “Not a bean.”

  Then he did need the position even if he was barely qualified for it, although I still wondered why he hadn't gone into something more suitable, or at least more lucrative.

  “So their jobs are not really interchangeable inside the department.”

  “No, and there is no question that Professor Brookwald would be next in line for any promotions that come up. If he would take it would depend on his ability to return to the field.”

  “Would Professor Headly have been next in line?”

  “Possibly. Or Professor Armstrong. He does a lot of fund-raising and that always looks good to the administration. If there was a promotion available, which there isn’t. And not likely to be.”

  “Can you think of anything in the department that might have been related to the murder?”

  “This place is filled with scandals and rivalries. I’m sure there are plenty I don’t know about.”

  “Like what?”

  She leaned back in her chair. “Every group of student assistants seems to bring their own set of petty dramas. I know of at least two who wanted Mr. Redmond’s position. Both play on the cricket team, you see, and thought it would help them to have an in with Professor Graham.” She noticed something by the door. “Drat. Professor Graham has just arrived. You’ll have to excuse me. I don’t particularly wish to be seen with someone even remotely connected to the police.”

  “Of course.” But she had already grabbed her coat and dropped enough to cover her share of the check on the table. I wondered how she would be able to leave without being spotted, but the back dining room had its own exit to the street outside. I finished my food and left through the more conventional front door; however, Professor Graham had evidently been seated behind one of the low walls, and I was unable to locate him.

  There was still the question of where in town I could stay. I wandered towards the college and considered who would know the town. As I approached the college, I spotted a gentleman going into one of the buildings. At first I thought he was someone's butler, then I realized he was the porter. I followed.

  The gentleman already had his hat and coat off and was standing in the small office area that was his domain. “Good afternoon, miss. I haven’t seen you about. Are you new in town? Visiting a relative, perhaps? I could direct you to their college. Or planning a demonstration? If so, I would recommend the north side of the common; it gets nice shade from the bell tower in the afternoon and is quite visible from both the director’s office and the street.”

  “I was summoned down by the police. Cassandra Pengear.”

  “A different matter entirely, then. And a dreadful business, that. I’m Mr. McAvery. Can I be of some assistance?”

  “I hope so. I’ll be down here for a few days, and I need someplace to stay.”

  “I see. Well, there are three places near the college that take guests. I take it you are here alone? For a lady staying alone, I would try Mrs. Eggleston’s Guest House. She also owns the tea shop next door. The pub also rents rooms, and the Ballar
ds are very respectable. I would have no worries about sending you there. There is another inn farther down, but it is frequented by businessmen and while it is also respectable and close to the college, it would be my last choice for you.” While he was talking, he was writing on a small notepad. He tore off the top sheet and handed it over to me.

  “Thank you.” I looked down at the paper and saw he'd draw a small map and labeled everything, including two restaurants and the location of the weekly market. “Do you know anything about Professor Brookwald?”

  “He isn't a suspect, is he?” He seemed genuinely concerned.

  “I think everyone in the Classics Department is a suspect at the moment.”

  “I can assure you, Professor Brookwald and Mr. Langley are very respectable residents of this area and would certainly not stoop to something like murder.”

  “I didn't think they seemed the type, but I was hoping I could find them some kind of alibi for Friday night, a little after nine o'clock.”

  The porter shook his head. “I would have already left for home. As for what time they left, as you can see, there isn't much of a view from here. I wouldn't have been able to see them if they were in the school or on campus. I will ask Mrs. McAvery, though. They don’t live too far from us. She might have seen them walking home.”

  If only I could prove them innocent so easily. “That would help. And I'm sure Inspector Burrows would be happy to hear they had an alibi. Two people he could cross of his suspect list, you see.”

  “Yes, I think I do. I'll ask her this evening. You might want to ask in the High Street. I think they stop at Wilman's Bakery for bread most evenings, and occasionally eat at the pub, although I think that is more frequent during exam week when everyone is busy.”

  “I’ll try there. Or ask Inspector Burrows to, I suppose. Thank you.”

  “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to return.”

  ~*~*~

  I collected my carpet bag from under Miss Fenchurch’s desk where Inspector Burrows had left it and followed Mr. McAvery’s directions to the Eggleston Guest House. The entrance shared a small foyer with the tea shop he’d mentioned, which seemed meant to give it an air of respectability. The woman at the desk smiled when I came in, but she also took a careful inventory of everything from my carpet bag to my gloves to my hatpin. I decided to take that as a good sign that the guest house would be safe and respectable and not as a criticism of my appearance. I also decided it was best to take the lead before she could decide I was somehow undesirable.