by L. A. Nisula
“Yes, Jerry Reedy. He lives in Clovston Hall.”
“And he was there, in the office?”
“That's right. He was leaving as I was waiting to go in, and he said, 'I'll see you tomorrow at three then.' He left, and I gave Professor Headly the ticket.”
The ticket couldn't have been for Mr. Reedy if he was seeing Professor Headly the next day, but it was somewhere to start at least. “I'll let Professor Brookwald know you're all right. Is there anything you need?”
“No, I'm fine. But if you would tell him... Just tell him I'm fine.”
I nodded and left.
With Mr. McAvery’s help, I was able to locate Mr. Reedy as he was leaving a lecture. It turned out he was one of the boys from the cricket team, one of the ones who had been teasing Bailey about losing his cricket notes. “Miss Penton, isn’t it?”
“Pengear, actually. I wanted to ask you something.”
“About the cricket team? You’d have to ask Professor Graham about that.”
“No, no. It’s about the day Professor Headly died.”
“Oh. I’m not a suspect, am I? You see, I don’t have an alibi for that evening and...”
“Nothing like that. It’s just, I was told you saw him that afternoon.”
“Yes, I did, but it was much earlier in the day. I needed to make an appointment to see him, and he didn’t have any appointments left in his book, so I went to ask him directly if I could visit him after class the next day.”
“Did he mention a trip?”
“A trip?”
“To London. I was told he bought a train ticket to London, so I was wondering if he mentioned it. Perhaps he said he’d meet you when he got back or something like that.”
“I wish I could help you, Miss Pengear, but I don't know anything about a trip to London.”
“But you were planning on seeing him the next day?”
“That's right. I was having some trouble with a paper I'm working on, and he had offered to help me with it after class. It was on the Trojan War, which involved Sparta, you see.”
“And he made no indication that he might be out of town, that he might not be able to meet with you?”
“No, in fact, he was very helpful. I've been having some issues with my allowance coming through, and he had noticed I was out of sorts and wanted to talk with me. That’s how we got started talking about the paper. He was always very good at knowing when students were having a rough time of it.”
It seemed Professor Headly had no trouble finding blackmail victims. “Do you mind telling me what the problem was?”
“Nothing dramatic. My father switched the bank he uses, and the deposits aren't coming through properly yet. They keep saying they'll fix it the next month, and it keeps not happening, so I have to keep borrowing from the others on the cricket team and paying them back. It never ends.”
If that was the truth, Professor Headly would have been very disappointed. “Did you see anyone else while you were there?”
“Spencer was leaving when I went in, and Mr. Langley was waiting to see him when I left.”
“I'll see if either of them know anything. Do you know where Mr. Spencer would be?”
“I suppose you can find Mr. Langley easily enough. I think Spencer has a lecture at three. In the Mathematics wing.”
“Mathematics? You mean he wasn’t a Classics student?”
“No. He’s reading Maths.”
“But then why was he going to see Professor Headly?”
That stopped him. “I suppose that is a little odd. But like I said, he was a good listener.”
It seemed Professor Headly's listening skills had been the stuff of legends. No wonder he had his pick of blackmail victims. “I suppose. If you think of anything...”
“I'd rather talk to you than the police. Thank you.”
Following Mr. Reedy’s directions, I found Mr. Spencer as he was coming out of the Maths building. He was with several other boys, so I followed at a discreet distance trying to figure out how to separate him from his friends. Our journey took us past Mr. McAvery’s office. I considered stopping in to ask for his help, but I was afraid I’d lose Mr. Spencer if I did. However, Mr. McAvery must have spotted me since he came out of his office and looked at me quizzically. I held up three fingers to let him know I was following the third boy.
“Mr. Spencer, would you come in here, please?”
Mr. Spencer looked surprised, but he followed Mr. McAvery into the office. I gave his friends a moment to continue on, then entered the office myself.
Mr. McAvery was putting on his coat, which seemed to confuse Mr. Spencer. “I will be going to lunch. Miss Pengear, if you need anything, I will be eating a sandwich in the yard.”
I smiled at him. It did make me feel better to have him within screaming distance.
Mr. Spencer went to follow Mr. McAvery out, but Mr. McAvery pulled the door closed behind him. Mr. Spencer looked like he was trying to decide if Mr. McAvery had shut the door in his face on purpose or not. I spoke up before he could decide.
“Mr. Spencer, I wanted to talk to you.”
He paused as if he were considering the best way to respond then leered at me. “If that’s what you wanted, you just had to ask. Shall we go somewhere private?”
I could tell he was trying to upset me so badly that I’d storm out without asking him anything. It seemed too strong a reaction for a simple office visit, particularly since he didn’t even know why I wanted to talk to him. Since I knew what his plan was, I was able to answer him calmly. “You were one of the last people to visit Professor Headly.”
“I couldn't have been. We were under a strict curfew.”
That managed to stop me. If he was using curfew as an alibi, he didn't think I was talking about the visit Mr. Reedy had seen. That meant…
“You visited Professor Headly the night he died.”
“Why would I do that?”
But there was something in the way he said it. A little tremor, a little too insistent. “That’s what I want to know.”
He leaned on the desk. He didn’t think I knew anything, and he was going to try and brazen it out. So there had to be something to know. The question was what. I had one very interesting theory, but who knew how many little plots Professor Headly had going on. But I needed to do something to shake Mr. Spencer, and it seemed worth taking a chance. “Why did you need the train ticket?”
He shifted a little but was still trying to glare at me. “Why would I need a train ticket to London?”
“I didn’t tell you it was to London.”
That shook him. I could tell by the way his hands clutched at the desk. “I don’t have to tell you anything. If my father...” He was almost growling at me.
I stood my ground. “No, you don’t. But you will go to the police station, and you will tell Inspector Burrows why you needed a train ticket to London, or I will tell him you are obstructing the course of justice, and he will come here and arrest you. Good luck explaining that to your father.”
Mr. Spencer stared at me.
“Shall I call for Mr. McAvery and have him get Constable Winters?”
“And why would Constable Winters come?”
“You were most likely the last person to see Professor Headly before he died. You don’t want to tell us why. I think he’ll be interested in that.”
“You don't have any authority. You'd have already arrested me if you could.”
“Then you would prefer to be arrested while in class, or at your dormitory? I'm sure you'd like to explain that.”
Mr. Spencer was coming up with another retort when the door opened and Constable Winters came in, followed by Mr. McAvery. “Miss Pengear, I am told you have a witness who needs to be escorted to the station.”
Mr. Spencer swallowed. “I wasn't resisting. I was....”
“Then you won't mind coming along with me.” Constable Winters took Mr. Spencer by the arm and marched him out the door. I followed them.
> As I passed Mr. McAvery, I whispered, “Thanks.”
He nodded. “Constable Winters was passing by. Well, on the next street, close enough.”
Chapter 14
I followed Constable Winters and Mr. Spencer all the way to the station. Mr. Spencer was too concerned about himself to notice, and Constable Winters didn’t seem to mind that I was there.
When we arrived at the station, Constable Winters shoved Mr. Spencer through to the office and pushed him towards the chair by Inspector Burrows’s desk. Inspector Crawley noticed the location and turned back to his paperwork, but I could tell he was watching the events unfold.
“What’s all this?” Inspector Burrows asked.
Constable Winters glanced at me for an explanation.
I provided it. “This is the person who wanted the train ticket to London.”
“She’s trying to trap me.”
Inspector Burrows looked at me.
“I mentioned a train ticket; he denied that he needed one to London.”
“And you didn’t mention London. I see.”
Mr. Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but then he saw Inspector Burrows’s expression and switched to sullen silence.
“Your name?”
He didn’t answer so Constable Winters provided, “Paul Spencer.”
“I see. Mr. Langley mentioned seeing you as he was leaving Professor Headly’s office. Was he alive when you left?”
“Of course he was. I didn’t kill him.”
“So you did see him then. Excellent.” Inspector Burrows wrote that down.
Mr. Spencer clutched at the arms of his chair as he realized Inspector Burrows had just tricked him.
“Why did you visit him?”
“Why does anyone visit a professor?”
“So he was helping you with schoolwork?”
I glanced around the desk, trying to figure out how to signal to Inspector Burrows.
“Isn’t that why people visit professors?”
I grabbed a pad of paper and scribbled some mathematical symbols on it, hoping “2+493-82x=723y” would relay to Inspector Burrows what I was hoping to.
“I see, I see. So, a Classics professor was helpful with mathematical problems then, was he?”
Mr. Spencer slouched back further in his chair, conscious that he’d been caught again.
I scribbled, “Post curfew,” on the pad, but Inspector Burrows seemed to ignore that.
“So why a train ticket to London?”
Inspector Burrows stared at his suspect until Mr. Spencer finally snapped, “Do you know who my father is? You can’t just hold me here.”
Inspector Burrows put his pen down on the desk with exaggerated calm. “You met with a murder victim shortly before he was murdered. You do not want to tell me why you were there. I do not have any choice but to arrest you. I hope your parents know a good barrister.” He turned to Constable Winters. “Keep an eye him while I get the paperwork.”
Constable Winters came to lean on the desk near Mr. Spencer’s chair while Inspector Burrows went to the outer office.
Inspector Crawley watched Mr. Spencer from his desk while I glared from my chair.
Inspector Crawley finally broke the silence, “If you didn’t do it, you’re just getting yourself into more trouble.”
Mr. Spencer didn’t answer.
Inspector Crawley got out of his chair and went to kneel down in front of Mr. Spencer. I continued to glare from my corner.
“Look, lad, that man is from London. He doesn't understand how things are up here. He's probably trying to contact London and get an arrest warrant as we speak. Now if you tell me what's going on, I can pass it on to him and put it in the best light possible. I can't promise we'll keep it a secret from your parents, but I'll do my best to stop him from telling. All right?” He patted Mr. Spencer's shoulder. “Now, tell me about this train ticket to London.”
“You really won't tell them? No matter what it is?”
“As long as it has nothing to do with murder. It can't be worse than murder, can it?”
Mr. Spencer started playing with the end of his jacket.
“Who's the girl?” I asked.
“Is that it? Does it have something to do with your girl?”
He nodded.
“So Miss Milford is in London? You wanted to see her? Is that it?”
“Not Miss Milford. Hettie Carrington.” Now that he'd started, it seemed easier for him to go on. “She went to see a doctor in town, for tests, to see.... And I was supposed to go with her. If she's... if the results were... Well, we'd have to act fast. My parents would have a fit if I broke off the engagement to Miss Milford, but I thought, if we were fast enough to say we had a whirlwind courtship, maybe they wouldn't guess and maybe it would be all right. Otherwise, Hettie was going to tell them, and she’d...” He trailed off.
“I see. And why didn't you buy your own ticket?”
“I didn't have the money. I knew Professor Headly from when he helped Professor Armstrong with the spring banquets for the cricket team. He’d said if I ever needed any help, to go to him. He didn't ask why I needed it, just said he'd get it for me. I was supposed to pick it up on Friday night, just after curfew so no one would see. But I was late. It was harder to sneak out than I thought it would be. There was this whole group trying to get to the concert across town, and by the time I got out and got to his office, no one was there.”
“What time was that?”
“Around nine thirty.”
“And what did you do?”
“I went back to my room.”
“And you didn't see anyone there in the office or anywhere around there?”
“No sir, I was too scared about getting the ticket without being seen.”
“All right. I'll do the best I can with this, but don't leave the university until I tell you it's all right.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I hope everything's well with your girl.”
“I don't know. She won't talk to me. I telephoned the boarding house where she's staying; I even sent a telegram with a paid return. She signed for it, but she didn't write back. She can't blame me for not going. I tried. I really did. Could you tell her that?”
Inspector Crawley sighed. “You can use the back door to slip out if you don't want to see Inspector Burrows.”
Mr. Spencer’s shoulders slumped, but he took the hint and left.
When the back door clicked shut, the office door opened and Inspector Burrows glanced in. I realized he’d been waiting outside the door until Inspector Crawley had finished. “Did you get anything?”
Inspector Crawley looked like he was considering saying no, but as he returned to his desk he said, “He was going to visit a young woman, not the one his family wishes him to marry.”
“But why couldn’t he buy the ticket himself?”
“He didn’t have the money and couldn’t ask his parents for it. Seems he may have gotten the woman in question...” He hesitated and glanced in my direction.
“With child,” I provided. “Although I suspect she isn't.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If she were, she'd be insisting he get to town this instant with a special license and a priest in tow. Slow torture is the sort of thing a girl whose mind has been set at ease does, not one in a panic. But it does explain why he didn't go to buy it himself.”
“He didn’t have enough money; yes, we got that.” Inspector Burrows sounded amused.
“No, I mean Professor Headly.”
“I don't follow.”
“If you were an irate father whose son had just eloped with an undesirable girl instead of the fiancée you'd picked out, what's the first thing you'd do? Particularly if you had the ability to count.”
Inspector Crawley answered, “Try to find out who helped him. And if I had enough sense to ask at the train station here, I'd be told who bought the ticket.”
“And Mr. Langley gets blamed and possibly beaten up
. I see.” Inspector Burrows sat back down at his desk. “But that doesn’t tell us what happened to the train ticket, or even if Professor Headly ever got it.”
“So you didn't find a train ticket,” Inspector Crawley asked.
“No. I suppose Mr. Langley could have delivered it as scheduled, and the killer could have used it to take the body to London.”
I tried to imagine taking a body to London in a public train. “How would he get the body there? Buy it a ticket too?”
“More likely in a steamer chest or something like that. You'd be amazed at what turns up in the lost and found at train stations.”
I snorted.
“All right, maybe you wouldn’t be amazed, but normal people would be. Now, no one boarded the London train here that night, but I don't think he'd have too much trouble catching it closer to London and using a ticket from Oxford. We’ve been trying to find where Mr. Langley boarded, but I'll see if anyone along the route remembers someone else boarding that night with heavy luggage. And we can check London when the train was supposed to arrive, but unless he was walking with the body flung over his shoulder, I don't think anyone will remember. Even then it's doubtful. But it’s worth trying.”
“And Mr. Langley?” I asked.
Inspector Burrows rubbed his forehead. “Let me think, all right?”
I took that as a good sign. A sign he was trying to think of a reason he could use to release Mr. Langley. “Then I hope your thoughts will lead to some results.”
He smiled. “As long as they’re the ones you want, eh? What time does Mrs. Eggleston expect you to eat dinner?”
I glanced at my watch-pin. “If I leave now, I should have enough time to get something at the tea shop before she remembers.”
“Then I won’t keep you.”
I correctly interpreted that as a polite form of “get lost” and collected up my handbag.
“And Miss Pengear, thank you for finding him. It was rather clever.”
I smiled. “You’re quite welcome.” I let my eyes dart in Inspector Crawley’s direction and hoped Inspector Burrows would be as gracious with him. Constable Winters followed me out.
I waited until the door had closed behind him to ask, “Will that put Inspector Crawley in a better mood?”