A Spartan Murder

by L. A. Nisula

  “I’m fine, thank you, though.” I tried to keep my voice low, but I could see that both men had turned to look in my direction. I hunkered down a little and added, “I’m waiting for someone,” to give me an excuse for staying put. I couldn’t tell if they were fooled, or even if they had heard me or recognized me, but I was afraid to turn around to check, or even to watch them too obviously in the window now, so I concentrated on my food and tried to figure out how to leave the pub without them noticing or how to sit so they wouldn’t get a good look at me as they left. Not for the first time I thought that it was a pity that it was almost impossible to eat with a veil over your face, not that the hat I was currently wearing had one anyway.

  I had eaten half of my first scone when the second man got up from the table and left without seeming to say goodbye to Professor Graham, and without me being able to get a better look at him. A few minutes later, I saw Professor Graham leave a few coins on the table to cover the meal and rise to leave. As he passed my chair, I thought I felt him bump into it, but I couldn’t be certain that it was deliberate; the tables were very close together, and it was such a light bump that it was equally likely he’d hit my chair while putting on his coat. Or Constable Winters’s coat, I suppose I should say. I ate calmly until I saw him disappear into the main room of the pub, then hurried to finish my food so I could go outside and figure out what if anything I had just witnessed.

  Professor Graham had clearly not wanted me to see him. I wondered why. Most likely because he was meeting someone he shouldn’t be. So who was it? I had gotten enough of a look to tell me he wasn’t anyone already involved in the case. Inspector Burrows wouldn’t know what someone not already on our list of suspects would look like. Inspector Crawley might, but I didn’t know where to look for him. Mrs. Eggleston was an inveterate gossip. Asking her something related to the case was only a good idea if I wanted it broadcast all over Oxford. Mr. McAvery. He would know if anyone would, and he would know what to keep to himself. I made for the porter’s office.

  Mr. McAvery listened to my description then tapped his finger against the desk. “That is very odd.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because under any other circumstances, I would have said Professor Graham was talking to his cousin, Mr. Peter Graham, but he’s been estranged from the family for years. Unless...”

  But pieces were falling into place now. “Unless that’s what he wanted everyone to think. And he knows I saw them together. I wonder if I was followed.” I was tempted to dart back to the door and look around, but I told myself not to be an idiot and asked, “Does the police station have a telephone? And where is the nearest one?”

  “Yes, and behind the desk.” Mr. McAvery lifted the partition so I could pass through; then he went to the other side to give me a bit of space. “Just ask for the Serringford station. Switchboard will put you right through.”

  I was surprised when it was Inspector Crawley who answered the call. “Oxford Police, Serringford Station, what do you want?”

  And not in a very good mood. Not that I had time for his wounded pride. “I need to speak to Inspector Burrows.”

  “He’s not here. He stole my constable and left not five minutes ago, which is why I am answering the telephone.”

  Mr. McAvery leaned against the window. “Miss Pengear, I am sorry to interrupt, but you were wondering if you were being followed? Professor Graham is standing across the street pretending to be reading a letter.”

  “Thank you.” I returned to the call. “Then I need you to come to the porter’s office near the entrance to Serringford College.”

  “Miss Pengear...”

  I cut him off. I was in a hurry, and I knew one method sure to get a police inspector to run to the rescue. “Please, I think I’ve gotten myself in trouble.” Not that the trouble was my fault, and completely ignoring the fact that I might have just solved a murder case, but it was effective as always.

  “I’ll be right there. I suppose I can put a closed sign on the door. Or maybe Gone Fishing.”

  I put the receiver back in its cradle and went to look out of the window with Mr. McAvery. Mr. McAvery went back to the counter and took a cricket bat from behind his desk. “Don’t worry, before I came here, I was in Her Majesty’s 44th Regiment. We’ll be fine. I take it you believe Professor Graham is the murderer?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “So he was being blackmailed? I didn’t see his name on the list, but then I suppose you already knew who he was so you didn’t need my help identifying him.”

  I considered that. “His name wasn’t on the list, was it? There was nothing in...” I stopped myself before I told him how I came into possession of the list of blackmail victims.

  Mr. McAvery inclined his head, indicating both that he understood and approved. “Then what connection do you see?”

  “I don’t know. But there is one, I’m sure. He has to have a motive.”

  “And the coats? That did seem to connect to something.”

  The coats. The coats had been following me since the beginning. Grey coats and tinkering notes. I walked over to the row of pegs on the wall and looked at Mr. McAvery’s coat. There had to be something. Mr. Parker’s had been in Professor Headly’s office. Professor Graham had Constable Winters’s. Constable Winters had someone’s. And then I stared at it. “He wasn’t being blackmailed, but he was about to be. It was about the coats. Do you know of anyone in Mr. Peter Graham’s life that would know if he owned a gray coat like his cousin’s?”

  Mr. McAvery moved to the window by the door and looked out at the street, keeping the cricket bat hidden under the sill. “Mrs. McAvery found that out for me when I was compiling your list. He does, plain gray, for wearing around the steamworks. He says he doesn’t want to get grease on his finer clothes. And you are right; it is very similar to his cousin’s.”

  “He was wearing brown today.”

  “Interesting, but I’m afraid it’s not unusual for a rich man to change his coat.”

  “I wish Inspector Burrows hadn’t taken Constable Winters away. Then there would be someone I could call to investigate it.”

  “If you’d like, Mrs. McAvery knows the housekeeper at Steamhill House. That was how she learned about the coat. That is the Grahams’ residence. She could enlist her help again.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put her in danger too.”

  “Mrs. McAvery can take care of herself. I’ll telephone down to Mrs. Jenkins at the post office. She can send a note round and ask Mrs. McAvery to look into it. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to give the game away.”

  “If you're certain she'll be all right.”

  “Of course she will. And she will enjoy being part of a proper police investigation.” He went back behind the desk to place the call. I paced in a small circle, trying not to watch the door obsessively, as he spoke to the operator. “That's right. Send a runner down to our house and tell her I'd like her to check with Mrs. Morris about the coats we discussed last night. She may have come across something in the course of her work. Yes, that's right. No, she'll understand. If you wouldn't mind.”

  I was trying so hard not to stare at the door that I didn't notice when it did open.

  “Mr. McAvery, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take Miss Pengear to luncheon.” Professor Graham sounded as cool as ever.

  Mr. McAvery put the telephone down at once. “I'm afraid she has a previous engagement.”

  He started addressing me. “I'm sure Mr. McAvery will understand if you wanted to come with me. I heard you had some questions about the tinkering notes Professor Headly sent you.”

  I decided it was best not to let him know how much I knew. “I would prefer to stay here.”

  “But I do think it would help your case.”

  I moved towards the door as casually as possible. “Perhaps this evening? The tea shop at Mrs. Eggleston's is very nice. We could meet and discuss it over scones.”

  “You're n
ot fooling me, Miss Pengear. Now, you are coming.”

  “No, she isn't,” Mr. McAvery said as he came around the desk with his bat.

  “I was hoping this could be handled in a civilized manner. Your disappearance will be noticed. But now it can't be helped.” Professor Graham drew a gun from inside his coat.

  I moved towards the window to distract him from Mr. McAvery. If I could get far enough away, I was hoping Mr. McAvery would be able to get a clear swing with the cricket bat. There was a chair near the window, and I edged towards it, seeing as it was the only possible weapon available to me. Professor Graham raised his pistol, and I lunged at the back of the chair. I swung it at Professor Graham just as he was aiming the pistol at me. I managed to miss him completely, which really was not a surprise, but I did manage to make him jump back to avoid the chair's legs which prevented him from getting off a shot.

  And then several things happened in rapid succession. There was the blur of a charcoal-and-black checked coat and the associated body flying past me as it slammed into Professor Graham, knocking them both to the ground. A moment later, there was the crack of a wooden cricket bat hitting a particularly hard head and snapping. Then the clink of handcuffs and the sound of a body being rolled over. Then I heard Inspector Burrows speak from the ground where he was sitting on Professor Graham.

  “Not dead, I think, merely unconscious.”

  “Still, I would appreciate it if the cause of unconsciousness could be put down as impact with the desk after being tackled by a Scotland Yard Inspector.” Mr. McAvery held up the remains of the cricket bat, one piece of which had definite traces of blood on it.

  “If you’re certain, at least until we know the extent of his injuries. You may still decide you want credit. Miss Pengear, are you all right?”

  I nodded then realized he wasn’t looking at me. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  I must not have sounded fine since Inspector Burrows got off of Professor Graham and grabbed the chair from me. “You’re certain?” He held the chair until I sat.

  “Certain. Shaken, not hurt.”

  Mr. McAvery brought over a cup of tea and a flask of brandy. I took the tea. He offered the flask to Inspector Burrows, who refused, then took a swallow himself.

  Inspector Burrows turned back to me. “You're certain you're all right? Then it seems we have our murderer.” He glared in Professor Graham's direction.

  “It wasn’t the blackmail,” I said. “At least not yet.”

  Inspector Burrows wasn’t as surprised as I’d expected. “I know.”

  I stared at him.

  “Those tinkering journals the library wanted returned? I got your note, so I was looking at them to see if there was any reason not to return them, when I noticed an article on an industrial spinning contraption from Graham Industries which sounded very much like what was depicted in those notes you received in the mail. It was the page Professor Headly was looking at when he was killed.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  He smiled a little. “The amount of blood on the page.”

  “Oh.”

  “And then I remembered all those bits and pieces you found out from the tinkering students, and it made sense. I was going to question Professor Graham, which is why I followed him here. When I realized what was probably going on, I sent Constable Winters to see Mr. Graham at the steamworks. I should get Inspector Crawley to go with him.”

  “He’s on his way here. I telephoned the station when I realized Professor Graham was following me.”

  “Then he’ll probably run into Constable Winters on the way.” He smiled. “How did you work it out?”

  “I had bought a tinkering journal for Kate Ferris that had the same sort of article in it, only on a drill like the one Tommy Rockbridge had designed, the one that got him the position with Graham Steamworks. Then when I realized it was the two of them meeting at the pub, I knew they weren’t as estranged as everybody thought.”

  “And he noticed you and followed you here. Yes, that does seem to be the way your cases end.”

  “You mean with the murderer in custody?”

  He smiled, “Naturally.”

  Mr. McAvery seemed to think this was a good time to distract us. “So the coats weren’t connected at all.”

  I paused. Something about the coats... “That was how they smuggled knowledge out of Oxford.”

  Inspector Burrows turned to look at me, waiting.

  “Remember, we said that was the only thing worth stealing? That’s how they did it. I thought the tear in the bottom of the coat looked practiced. That’s because it was. That’s how he passed the papers on to his cousin without anyone seeing them together. The coats.”

  Inspector Burrows considered what I was saying. “They switched them at the cafeteria.”

  “It’s large and popular. No one would notice if they were both eating there, especially in separate areas. It would be easy to hang up his coat with the plans, and let his cousin walk out with it.”

  “And then repeat the process whenever they needed to. But one of them took the wrong coat.”

  I nodded. “Well, someone else probably took the wrong coat first, so they thought they had the right one.”

  “And they had to get it back. Professor Graham probably saw Professor Headly looking at the plans that Bailey had left and thought Professor Headly had his coat and found the notes inside it, which would explain why he was so shocked when I mentioned the dog biscuits.”

  “And why he thought he had to murder him.”

  Inspector Burrows nodded. “And that.”

  “I wonder if Professor Headly had made the same connection we did, and if he had threatened to blackmail him.”

  “It will be one of the things I ask Graham when he wakes up.”

  While we were following our line of logic, or speculation, Mr. McAvery had returned to his desk. When we paused for breath, he leaned over the counter. “I’ve telephoned the main police station. They will be sending over a carriage to take the prisoner into custody. It will be here shortly.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McAvery.” Inspector Burrows turned back to me. “You’re certain you’re all right?”

  “Positive, just a bit shaken.”

  “So you will be able to make it back to the guest house on your own? The boys’ cricket team is at practice; I could get someone to go with you.”

  I imagined the entire boys’ cricket team marching me back to the guest house. “It’s a kind thought, and it would probably make their week to be asked by a real Scotland Yard man, but I can manage just fine.” Probably better, but I didn’t want to say it.

  “All right. I’ll send word round if I find anything out. Your statement can wait until tomorrow. Unless you’d like to type it up and save a bit of time.”

  I nodded and gathered up my things. I could tell I was being dismissed, but there was nothing particularly interesting likely to happen as the suspect was still unconscious, and even if he regained consciousness, it was more likely another fight would follow, not a confession.

  Chapter 18

  After a good night's rest and a selection of cakes from Mrs. Gilbert's shop, I felt much better and by the next morning I was ready to convince Inspector Burrows to tell me all about the parts of the case I had missed. Before I could decide on a course of action, Mrs. Eggleston stopped me in the front hall. “Will you be having breakfast with us at last, Miss Pengear?”

  “I would love to, but I’m afraid I have several errands to run as I’ll be leaving this afternoon.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. Would you like me to have your bill drawn up so you can settle your account? I can do it while you break your fast.”

  “That would be lovely, but I really do have a great deal to do.”

  Mrs. Eggleston looked a bit put out, but she didn’t say anything as I hurried out the front door. I hadn't been lying about the errands, at least. The closest was Mr. McAvery, so I stopped by the porter’s office and looked inside. Mr. McA
very was hanging up a new cricket bat. "I see you've replaced your weapon."

  “Miss Pengear, I'm glad to see you're feeling better after our excitement yesterday. The Hillcrest cricket team gave me one of their bats in exchange for my souvenir of our adventure. Mrs. McAvery was also very pleased to be asked to help in the investigation, and she turned all of her information over to Inspector Burrows. I hope it was of some help. Now, Inspector Burrows seemed to think you'd be leaving today. Did you need something before you leave? Train schedules? Or perhaps you’re staying on for a few days and would like to see the sights?”

  “Actually I wanted to see Professor Brookwald. I have something I wanted to return to him. I believe you said he lived near you?”

  “He does indeed. Excellent memory. I see how you can be a help to the police. Let me just write the address for you.” He scribbled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the counter. “If I don’t see you before you leave, safe journey.”

  Professor Brookwald lived in a neat little house on a sunny little street not far from the college, but far enough that it did not feel that it was still on the campus. I knocked, and Mr. Langley opened the door. When he saw it was me, he smiled and his shoulders relaxed. “Miss Pengear, do come in. It’s Miss Pengear, Silas. We’re having tea in the breakfast room. Informal, but if you don’t mind.” He led me past a formal sitting room and into a tiny breakfast room with a large window looking out over the garden and a round table taking up almost all of the space. Professor Brookwald came through the second door which I assumed came from the kitchen, carrying an extra cup and saucer.

  “Good morning, Miss Pengear. Lovely to see you, but I thought the case was closed? Robert said Constable Lipson brought Professor Graham to London this morning.”

  “I heard them discussing it when they released me.”

  As I hadn’t managed breakfast, I gratefully accepted the tea. Professor Brookwald must have noticed since he put a plate of scones across from me. “It is closed. I’ll be going home this afternoon. I just had something of yours I wanted to return.” I took the letter out of my handbag and put it on the table.