by Belle Astor
"Did the detective not want to take it?" Maisie was surprised that Detective Blake wasn't dusting it for prints.
"Oh, I never told him. I'm only telling you Clara because you'd understand. John never gave you a book did he?"
It seemed important to Mrs. Leech to feel this connection with the deceased. Maisie didn't want to upset a grieving woman. Someone should grieve for him, and certainly, his wife wasn't going to be the one.
"May I see the book, Mrs. Leech?"
Mrs. Leech seemed to hesitate but then relented. It was the same book as the one in Katie's room. Maisie flicked through the pages. "There it is," she exclaimed. It was the poem he had in his suitcase but what did it mean? In her excitement at seeing the poem, Maisie dropped the book to Mrs. Leech's squeal. A piece of paper floated out.
"What's this?" Mrs. Leech picked it up before Maisie would see it.
"It's gibberish," Mrs. Leech said as she displayed it for Maisie. It was a combination of letters and numbers.
"Mrs. Leech, may I take this to the police? It may help find John's killer."
The woman snatched the book from Maisie's hand.
"No, it's mine. It's all I have left of him." Mrs. Leech held the book close to her.
"I know it's difficult to let go of the last piece of John. But it could help find his killer. And you want that, don't you? When it's over, you can get the book back, I'll make Detective Blake promise."
Maisie reached out, and reluctantly Mrs. Leech gave her the book and the note. "Bring it back to me," Mrs. Leech bowed her head. She sat back in to her chair and Maisie could hear her sobbing as she left. This was too important to leave until tomorrow. She would go to the station now but it so late.
She walked as fast as she could with the book tucked under her arm. But the same feeling as before struck Maisie. Someone was following her. As she hastened her step, the footsteps behind her quickened. When she turned to look around, she couldn't see anyone.
This was evidence, and part of her was afraid something might happen to it. Maisie needed to hurry. Arriving at the station, she was disappointed to hear that Officer Bantry was off duty. "Off duty," she thought. So it meant that Lily may not have been able to alert him to Katie's beau.
"Is Detective Blake here?" she asked. The desk sergeant excused himself, but he was back within seconds.
"No, Miss, Detective Blake has gone home," the man didn't look at her face. Maisie knew it was a lie.
"Could you tell him that Miss Mills has vital evidence in the John Smith case?" The man's face turned red as he left his desk. While it didn't seem possible, the man returned even faster this time.
"Apologies Miss but the Detective is not here. Could you leave your evidence with me and I'll see he gets it?" The desk sergeant held his hand out for the book he had noticed she was holding tightly.
Maisie's blood began to boil. Detective Blake was there alright. She heard him talking. He was determined not to see her even when she had evidence.
"No, I'm afraid I cannot do that. It is something I must tell him." Maisie had noticed the desk sergeant looking at the book she held and she was afraid he would force it from her.
"Goodnight, Miss. It is best if women do not involve themselves in police matters. It is a dangerous business," the desk sergeant said as she turned to leave.
How dare he speak to me like that, she fumed as she left the rather rotund desk sergeant. Maisie couldn't remember the last time she was this angry. Dangerous, dangerous, he's telling me it's dangerous work. Why he couldn't run out the door without getting out of breath, she inhaled a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
She imagined growing into enormous proportions and picking up a tiny Detective Blake and desk sergeant. She tossed them about like they were toys and laughed as they screamed at her to be let go.
She couldn't suppress a giggle, but it still hurt that she was dismissed after all the help she had given.
With no other option, Maisie returned home. The house was quiet, and she knocked on Lily's bedroom door. There was no reply. She went to Katie's room although she doubted Katie would be home. No answer from her either. It was such a frustrating evening, no one was available to her. In her bedroom, as she lay in bed, Maisie looked at the page with the numbers and letters on it. What did it mean?
It was of no use to try to sleep. Too wound up to give her discovery its due consideration, Maisie put on her dressing gown. She absentmindedly put the note in the pocket. For some reason, she felt the need to put the book under her mattress. She needed to keep it safe.
Why was Detective Blake so obstinate? If he wasn't so pigheaded, he could have it safely in his keep. Maisie wouldn't be feeling guilty at having evidence in her possession. It would only have taken a few minutes of his precious time to talk to her. But no, he was too busy and not even man enough to face her himself.
Deciding a mug of warm milk would induce calmness, Maisie crept downstairs. Mrs. Hopkins didn't like the girls in her kitchen so she'd have to make sure there was no evidence of her presence. As she waited for the milk to heat up, Maisie was thinking about the book. It was the same book that was in Katie's room. It was too late to go prying now, but it was too much of a coincidence. Katie's gentleman friend had been the man on the phone and had given Katie the same book.
"Shoot," she said as she realized her milk was beginning to boil. She'd have to let it cool down, so that gave her time to wash and put away the saucepan. Maisie moved into the drawing room to drink her milk. Sitting by the window, she saw a car's headlights and the car stopped outside. It was Katie and her beau. Sitting back into the shadows, Maisie watched them come to the door. There was no slapping or crying this time. Katie was giggling, and her beau twirled her around.
Maisie wasn't one for romantic attachments. Was that love Katie was experiencing? It would be nice to dress up but was it real? It seemed this was what Katie wanted. Maisie felt it was a waste to focus on getting married. Surely fulfillment of one's self was the way to go. They were living in this wonderful time with more opportunities for women. Except for Maisie. Her momma would say that the war had made women think they were equal to men. Even as a young teen, this type of commentary didn't sound right. But it was her mother's way.
That was it, Maisie could see it now, Katie was a more glamorous version of her mother. They wanted a man. No, she corrected herself, they needed a man to support and care for them. Their identity was connected to the man who chose them.
Katie and her gentleman friend were almost at the door. Maisie looked away as the man leaned in to kiss her friend. Soon the sound of them kissing stopped, and Maisie watched them. Her former beau, Danny Lee had never kissed her like that. Maisie could feel herself blushing.
"Katie, dahling, I need to ask a favor." He whispered something into Katie's ear.
Maisie couldn't see Katie's reaction, but the man continued, "Dahling, I will give it back to you. It doesn't mean I am taking my love away. That's a good girl, and I have another present for you."
More kissing ensued, and Maisie pulled faces. They were talking again but Maisie couldn't hear them. As she moved closer to the window, she knocked over a lamp which brought the attention of Katie and her man.
Maisie was annoyed with herself for such a rookie mistake. She only had seconds to creep out of the drawing room into the kitchen as she heard Katie opening the front door. She didn't dare to raise her head from the floor, but she could smell Katie's perfume.
"I don't see anything," Katie said to her beau.
"My sweet, get the book, and I'll leave you to your beauty sleep," the man said.
"Okay but you promise to bring it back to me. But you have to wait here." Maisie could hear Katie say. Maisie was stuck. She could only hope that Katie would hand over the book and go to bed. As she waited, Maisie thought about what she could do if she were a lady detective. She could have taken the book from Katie's room and compared it with the copy she had when she had the chance. There was a reason for the
ir interest in this particular copy. In her daydream, Maisie was taking issue with the man for hurting her friend. She then interrogated him about his involvement in the death of Henry Jenkins/John Smith. He confessed and the close was closed with Detective Maisie Mills again be feted by the newspapers.
The closing of the front door brought Maisie back to her senses. She could hear Katie going to her room, and Maisie went to the window to watch the man drive off. She was about to turn away from the window when a face appeared from nowhere. She shrieked. It was George who put his finger to his mouth for Maisie to hush.
"George Bantry, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" She said as she ran to the front door and opened it to let him in.
"Shush, I don't want to wake Mrs. Hopkins and Katie's gone to bed."
George followed her into the living room. He was very apologetic. Maisie turned on the light and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light.
"I am so sorry Maisie, but I thought he'd never leave. Lily came to see me earlier in the evening, saying you wanted me to follow them. It took awhile to track them, but I've been following them since on my bicycle," George declared.
"On your night off?" Maisie seemed surprised.
"You were worried about your friend, and I had nothing else on. Not that I could do much as I wasn't on duty."
"George, you are the kindest man I've ever met. Someday a good woman will come your way," Maisie said. She knew she shouldn't have been surprised really. George was a good man.
"I was hoping I had already met her," George said shyly.
"Oh George, I'm flattered, but I'm not looking for a relationship. We work very well together." Maisie hoped she had let him down gently. But George shifted in his seat.
"Oh Maisie, while I enjoy your company, and I must admit I did feel drawn to you." He looked away as he spoke, "I fear I have lost my heart to another."
He cleared his throat and Maisie tried to recover from the fact she wasn't George's crush. While she wouldn't care to admit it, Maisie's confidence took a knock. Who was this creature that made George feel this way? As Maisie tried to think on who it could be, George was rambling on, but soon he got Maisie's attention.
"You should see her dance, Maisie. It's like…" George put his hands to his heart. He was intoxicated with love.
"Who is it, George?"
"Isn't it obvious? She is Venus incarnate. I've met her here before but to see her sparkle on the dance floor. It's Katie, Maisie. Do you think Katie would ever look at a man like me?" George was a smitten kitten, Maisie thought.
Maisie knew men never looked at her the way they looked at Katie. Maisie didn't know what it was that made her friend the object of desire. But seeing the look on George's face, Maisie needed to snap him out of this silliness.
"George, you've seen the types Katie goes for. She should date you, but I doubt she ever will. Now you understand why I had you follow them. George, are you listening to me?"
Maisie had been too truthful, and George looked crushed. She needed him to focus, and he needed to believe Katie might be interested.
"George, Katie should date a man like you. You are kind and gentle. But if you help me bring down her gentleman, then you can be her hero. She might respond to that. She wants a man who will look after her."
That seemed to perk George up.
Chapter Nine
"So Lily told you. He's the man from the phone. Plus I went to Mrs. Leech's and she…"
"You did what?" George was in duty mode now. "Maisie you shouldn't have done that. It could have been very dangerous. But I see that you found something out." Maisie had been tapping her foot waiting for him to finish chastising her.
"George, they were in love. He gave her this book of love poems, and it has the poem that we found in his case. And there was another page." Maisie was in full flow.
"You took it to the station and gave it to Detective Blake," George said.
Now it was Maisie's turn to shuffle uneasily. "Maisie, it's evidence. You did give it to the Detective."
Maisie shook her head. She became defensive as George berated her for holding on to evidence.
"Well, it's his own fault. He wouldn't even come to the desk to see me. So he didn't deserve it. But I'll give it you, George. I haven't been able to figure out what any of it means. It's a jumble of letters and numbers. Wait here."
Maisie tiptoed up the stairs and into her room. She was irritated that she'd be excluded from the investigation again. But for now, she would be content with knowing she was the one who had found the book. Mrs. Leech would never have given it willingly. She would need to remind George of this fact. It wasn't enough to know she had helped, Maisie wanted recognition for her efforts. She didn't like how Detective Blake was so dismissive of her.
She reached under the mattress but felt no book. Perhaps she put it in the middle. There was still no sign of it. The book was gone. Who could have taken it? She had only been downstairs, no one had seen her with the book. She was wrong in that estimation, she told herself. Someone was following her and saw her with the book. George was going to go ballistic, she was sure of it. This was her fault for being so headstrong. If she handed over the book, then this would never have happened.
Maisie went downstairs to George.
"Oh Maisie, well at least you are unharmed. I couldn't imagine what would have happened if you had come across the thief in your room. It may not have helped in any case. It will be our secret," George said quite unexpectedly.
"George, you're not cross with me?" Maisie asked. "I was sure you would be yelling and even arrest me for scuppering an investigation."
His kindness yet again brought tears to her eyes. She had led the killer to the book which must in some way identify her, as she was sure the killer was female. Maisie put her hand into her pocket for a handkerchief. A slip of paper fell to the floor.
"What's this?" George asked.
"Oh my, that was inside the book, George. I'm sure it can tell us something if only we could decipher it. Is that it, George, is it a cipher of some kind?"
George was flummoxed.
"You are a clever one. We have the poem so that must be the page that has the message. Well done, Maisie. I'm not one for puzzles, but the Detective is. I'll get this to him immediately."
Maisie's faith in herself was restored. But imagine someone had broken into her home, found her room and had taken the book. Why hadn't they just robbed her on the street? There was no way she could sleep now knowing someone had been in her bedroom. Could it have Katie?
"But George, I know someone was following me this evening. Do you think Katie took the book from my room? I was down here the whole time."
George scratched his head. He didn't like the idea of his Goddess being involved in some caper either knowingly or not.
"You have a point. But I can't see how. You can't very well wake her up. We have to smart about this. If Katie is involved, we can't let her know we're on to her. We have to figure this code out. See if you can get Katie out of the house tomorrow and I'll come back to dust for fingerprints. We'd better not involve the others although I may have to explain my needing to be in your bedroom to Mrs. Hopkins! Later bring me something Katie has touched so I can compare fingerprints."
"How did I not see it, George? Whether or not it's Katie, how could I not know someone had come into the house."
George put his arms on Maisie's shoulders.
"You can't think like that. You never expect it to happen in your house."
Maisie knew he was trying to be helpful but maybe the world was right and she was wrong. Women weren't cut out to be detectives.
"Maisie, I wouldn't be so hard on yourself. I'm going to tell you something about Detective Blake. If you ever breathe a word of it, he'll have my guts for garters, and he doesn't make idle threats. A few years ago, when he first moved to the city, he was staying in a boarding house. The place was broken into and his pocket watch taken from his bedside table as he slept."
"No," Maisie gasped, not quite sure which shocked her more. That the great Detective slept or was such a heavy sleeper. It made her feel better.
"I'd better go. Remember, take Katie out and take care not to touch too many things in your room. If we can get fingerprints, it makes our job much easier."
"You are a dear friend, George. Thank you."
George rode off on his bicycle. Maisie grinned to herself. So the great Detective Blake wasn't infallible after all. But her smile faded as she turned around and saw Katie standing at the top of the stairs.
"I'd ask if you were just returning home, Maisie but I can see you're in your nightclothes. Was someone at the door? I thought I heard you talking to someone."
Not sure of how long Katie had been there, Maisie decided to play innocent. "It was nothing. I couldn't sleep, and as I came down, I thought I saw someone outside. It was just a cat chasing a mouse, I suspect."
Maisie watched Katie's face for clues, but her expression didn't change.
"Want to join me, Katie? I'm making some tea, and you can tell me all about your night," Maisie decided to keep the conversation casual. Katie loved talking about her nights out.
"Yes, let's do that. It'll be like old times, Maisie. I think you were a little annoyed with me for forgiving Rene so easily."
Rene was her beau's name, I wonder how a Russian has a French name, Maisie pondered. Katie sat on the couch and tucked her legs under her. She had a good night judging by the smile that stretched from ear to ear. Maisie made tea. Yes, it was like old times in this regard. When they had gone out on the town, Katie would draw the attention. There were times when Maisie hadn't liked Katie. Whenever she'd confide her interest in a man, Katie would ensure that she spoke to him. It used to annoy Maisie so much, but now she understood that Katie needed that male attention.
"So tell me about your night."
Katie needed no encouragement and began to tell Maisie about the dinner and dancing. Just when Maisie was zoning out, Katie said, "You know who I saw, Lily's brother, George. I know he saw me, but he never said hello. It was strange to see a policeman at a speakeasy."