The Gentleman on Pennyfield Street

by C. G Oster

  "No, the body was removed some three weeks ago."

  "Well, we're a bit short on DIs at the moment. You will have to speak to Sunderson." The desk sergeant picked up the phone and spoke to someone. "Go through, he'll meet you there," the man said, indicating to a door.

  Dory did so, feeling a little like she was walking into the unknown, but a young man stood there, dressed in his blue uniform. "Sorry, what was your name?"

  "Dory Sparks," she said. "Are you Sunderson?" The man couldn't be older than her; she had been expecting someone more experienced.

  "Now, tell me about this body."

  Dory went on to explain everything, including the circumstances of the body and the absence of Mr. Dellow from his house. Also the disagreements mentioned with neighbors and the publican of the Ruby Rose. The groan from his lips suggested he knew the public well.

  The young man took notes and then put them to side. "I'll look into it. Please leave your contact details with the desk, in case we need to be in touch with you."

  She was dismissed, and Dory took a few seconds to realize it. "Right," she said. "There's nothing I can do to help?"

  "You've been very helpful in bringing this matter to us."

  "No offense, Mr. Sunderland, but I had expected a detective to take a case like this, considering it is likely murder."

  "Well, we are running short on those. The military keep pinching them," a slight note of exasperation in his voice.

  "I am aware," Dory said with a smile. "Intelligence, I believe."

  "Rightly so," he said with surprise, regarding her anew. "I'll let you know what we find. We'll definitely question Jimmy Magren. Bad lot, that one."

  "So I've heard." She assumed that was the publican.

  There was nothing further to say, and Dory searched her mind in case there was something she'd forgotten. She could always come back, she justified as she walked through the back of the police station, where a number of desks stood stacked in a large room, files stacked neatly on top of others.

  It was a good feeling walking out of the police station. They hadn't dismissed her claim and would look into it. Mr. Dellow might get some justice for his life being cut short. The question of why still clawed at her. Why would someone do this? What could possibly be so worthy that it justified taking someone's life? She couldn't understand.

  Returning home, Vera was in the kitchen with the paper spread out across the table. Her lips were nicely rouged from the beetroot lipstick. Not a full red, more like a mix between red and pink. It suited her coloring.

  "Anything interesting?" Dory asked.

  "Same old guff. Oh, a letter came for you."

  "Right," Dory said and walked over to the small table in the hall were they sometimes left letters. It was a blue envelope, unlike any she had seen before. This wasn't the nice, creamy blue paper Lady Pettifer used, or the thin tissue-like paper her mother used. Ripping it open, Dory pulled out the letter. A neat, curving hand, suggesting that Mr. Jones would like to personally thank her and to call on him at her earliest opportunity.

  Dory's eyebrows rose in surprise. Perhaps it wasn't a surprise. If she had been in his position, she would feel moved to thank the person who had rescued her. It wasn't necessary. Finding his situation had been a by-product of her investigation into Mr. Dellow's death. Discovering the injustice done to Mr. Jones had simply been fortuitous. But she would go meet him, understanding that it was important to him to thank his rescuer.

  Returning to the kitchen, Dory cut herself two slices of bread and a piece of cheese.

  "The cabbages we planted aren't coming up at all," Vera said. "I don't hold out much hope for the carrots either. We haven't got a green thumb between us."

  "That's a shame."

  "Apparently it's going to be another couple of days before the searchlight is operational. There was some shrapnel damage and the mirror inside shattered. Another one is being sent from Manchester, but it will take a few days. To tell you the truth, I'm getting sick of dancing every night."

  "Never thought I'd see that day," Dory said.

  "Besides, looks like it will be a clear night tonight."

  A respite would do them all some good.

  "I like your lipstick."

  "Do you want some? I made heaps of it."

  "Sure," Dory said. It was a shame she didn't have it when Ridley had visited. She would definitely keep some for when he came again. A thrill of nervousness shot down her body thinking they would have another day together.

  Vera went upstairs to her room and returned with a small pot. "Don't go wild, because we probably won't get any more glycerin for a while."

  "Thank you," Dory said. She would put some on before she left. Might as well go see Mr. Jones in the afternoon, get it over with while she had this time off work.

  *

  The façade of Mr. Jones building looked exactly the same as before. Everything down this street looked so calm, it was hard to think that a vicious crime was being committed behind one of these doors. Walking up the stairs to number sixteen, Dory knocked.

  A young man answered the door, one Dory hadn't met before. "I'm here to see Mr. Jones," she said. "Miss Dory Sparks."

  "Ah, yes. He is in his study. This way," the man said, leading her over to the right side of the house, toward a set of double doors, which slid apart to a warm space with a dark desk and matching chairs. Mr. Jones sat in a chair by the fire, a blanket over his legs. He looked different from the terrified and scraggly man who she'd seen lying in bed.

  Like this, he seemed much more like the solicitor he was—formidable even as he still looked ill. The corner of his lip drooped slightly.

  "Miss Sparks," he said and Dory tentatively sat down in the opposite chair. The heat of the fire stung her cold hands from the brisk weather outside. "It's a pleasure to see you. I was hoping you'd come. Some tea?" His speech had a slight slur to it from his stroke, but he looked a hundred times better than he had.

  "Tea would be lovely. I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

  "Yes. Harper will organize some tea," he said to the young man who was still standing at the door. "He is a reliable man after those harpies," he said. "Both been charged and I believe both will face jail for what they did. I wish to thank you, of course. It was your persistence that got me the help I needed." His voice was labored and it was difficult for him to talk.

  "Well, I am glad their deeds were uncovered."

  "Harpies," the man repeated with distaste. "Well, I am in your debt if you shall ever need it. Is there anything you need?"

  "Not really," she said. "I am just glad you are better, and recovering from… your ordeal."

  "Then it will be a standing debt."

  The young man brought a silver tea service and gently placed it down on the table, before pouring two delicate teacups. Dory accepted hers. It was good tea and she savored it. Would it be uncouth to ask for some tea to take away, Dory wondered with a smile. She wouldn't take the man's tea from him. Enough had been taken from him as it was.

  "So I have been told you are a member of the ATS."

  "That is right. I man one of the searchlights down toward the docks."

  "Perilous work," he said. "The police also told me that you were on the hunt for the identity of a man found after one of the raids. You have asserted through unnatural causes. You found me as part of that quest."

  "Yes," Dory agreed.

  "Any success?"

  "I believe I have found his identity. The police are now looking into it, so I don't know who or why just yet, but hopefully we'll know soon."

  "The man deserves his justice. I count myself lucky to be discovered in the process. I live to tell the tale. This war seems to drive some to wicked deeds indeed." For a moment he was lost in thoughts. "But there have always been those who seek opportunity for wickedness. The disorder simply gives them a greater chance to." He spoke with an assurance from years of practicing law. In that capacity, he must have seen the very worst of
human nature.

  Chapter 31

  DORY'S CURIOSITY REFUSED to let her stay away, and on the way home, she walked past Mr. Dellow's house. The front door was open and there was still a policeman inside, taking photos. The flash flared through the windows, and there was a crowd of people outside. The police were certainly taking this seriously.

  Among the crowd, she spotted the warden she'd been dealing with last night. It seemed an age ago, but it had only been last night. Everything was moving so fast now. It was as if a dam had burst and everything flooded out.

  When the warden spotted her, he moved toward her. "Miss Sparks," he said.

  "Mr. Wilkens. Did you get a chance to go to the hospital?"

  "That I did, and after some fluffing around, they showed me a picture of Frank. It is him that was found on Pennyfield Street."

  In a way, it was all more sad now that they had an identity for the man. He became more of a person instead of simply a body.

  "The police are treating it as a homicide," he said. "I understand they hauled in Jimmy Magren this afternoon. He's still there, but his wife says he’s not responsible. Says he's never been missing during the raids. Obviously the police won't put much stock on her words, but there's a shelter full of people and only one of them need to recall his presence."

  "Could it be that he didn't do it?" Dory asked.

  Mr. Wilkens shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me if he did. Who else would have done it? The man is certainly fond of using his fists."

  "Yet scared of the Germans," Dory said.

  "There was definitely a raid that night?" he asked.

  "Yes, I even saw the bomb drop on Pennyfield Street."

  "Well, it isn't impossible to sneak out of a shelter in the wee hours when everyone is sleeping. People get up to relieve themselves all night, so no one would bat an eyelid at someone walking around. He could well have snuck off and done the deed."

  "We know Mr. Dellow was killed early evening while he ate his supper," Dory said.

  "Could be that he lay around dead for hours before Magren came and carted him away. He is certainly strong enough to carry a body."

  Dory hadn't seen this Jimmy Magren, but she took his word for it.

  As they watched, Sunderson in his uniform and with his hat under his arm, stepped out of the neighbor's house, putting away the notebook he'd been writing in. He'd been questioning the neighbor, and seemed pleased with the result. The woman with a lined face and sharp features followed, wearing a flower print apron and a shawl over her hair. She crossed her arms and regarded the scene, standing on her doorstep. Her taller daughter appeared behind her, also curious about the commotion outside. She had rouged cheeks and red lips. Pretty in a fleeting way.

  "What was the nature of the quarrel between Mr. Dellow and his neighbor?" she asked Mr. Wilkens.

  "I don't know the details. Mr. Dellow could be a cantankerous man when it came to some. He didn't suffer fools gladly." His tone suggested that he hadn’t much respect for the neighbor either.

  "Mother and daughter, isn't it?" Dory said.

  "That's right. Crewes is the name. Used to be married to Harry Crewes, but he died some time ago. Dock worker. Well, I think the fun's over," Wilkens said. "It's getting dark."

  "The Germans won't come for a while yet," Dory said. "They'll come with that front over there," she said, pointing to clouds sitting to the east “And it's slow moving. I'd say the sirens won't sound until midnight, if at all."

  "Have learned to read the clouds, have you?"

  "I've been standing around watching every night. They won't come while it's too clear. Too easy to see in the moonlight. Moon's close to full."

  "You might be wasted on the searchlights, Miss Sparks," he said with a snort before moving away.

  Dory stayed to watch. The police were winding down their examination and people were losing interest. Perhaps like Mr. Wilkens, fearing the night too much to stick around.

  Constable Sunderland was heading toward a car and Dory ran to intercept him. "Miss Sparks. I'm surprised to see you here."

  "Are you?" Dory didn't see why. "I was walking past. I understand Mr. Wilkens has confirmed the identity of the body at the hospital through photographs."

  "So I understand. The hospital called me." He looked impatient.

  "He also said you've been questioning Jimmy Magren."

  "Your Mr. Wilken is very informed, isn't he?"

  "Everyone knows everyone's business around here. Did he do it?"

  "We're still trying to break his alibi, but the neighbor here has just confirmed seeing him earlier in the night, so I think there is a good chance he'll be charged. Obviously, I expect you will keep this information to yourself."

  "Of course," she said. "And motive?"

  "Well, Magren is a violent man. There was a confrontation at the pub some weeks back. Dellow accused him of watering down the drinks. Magren ordered Dellow out of his establishment. The details are still sketchy."

  That was hardly motive, Dory thought. That bothered her. It didn't make sense if there wasn't a motive. Maybe it was a motive to some. Wasn't every single publican in the city accused of watering down drinks?

  "We found some blood splatter inside. Faint, but definitely there," Sunderson continued. "The man was murdered alright."

  Dory shuddered at the thought. "Do you know the nature of his disagreements with the neighbor?"

  "Noise and something to do with whiffy garbage," he said. "Normal things neighbors get pissy at each other about."

  Didn't really sound like motive either unless dealing with someone clearly unhinged. "As you are done here, would you mind if I have a look inside?"

  "I thought you'd already been inside."

  "It was dark. I'd like to see if there is anyone he corresponded with that should be contacted."

  Sunderson breathed deeply as if he really wanted to say no. "Fine, but I want you to lock the door. If I hear of you stealing anything, I'll have you nicked."

  "I'm not going to steal anything," Dory said, finally offended.

  "Just giving you a warning. The sirens will go off in a minute."

  Dory grumbled her goodbye and stepped inside the house. The crowd outside had dispersed and Dory turned the light on. The blood splatter was still difficult for her to see, but she took their word for it. Mr. Dellow had clearly invited his murderer into the house and they had proceeded to whack him on the back of the head judging by the injuries, likely when his back was turned. The invited person was apparently trusted enough that Mr. Dellow would turn his back on them. That would hardly be Mr. Magren, would it?

  Things felt wrong, but she couldn't exactly say what. Probably because the motive didn't make sense. With all the murders she had seen—both of the murders she had seen—the motive was blatantly clear. The murderer saw the act as necessary, but simply bashing someone over the head because of watered down drinks—that seemed mad.

  It had to be something else entirely. Perhaps Dory would speak to the man's wife. The police were always dismissive of wives, believing their testimony to be inherently suspicious, but Dory didn't hold those same beliefs. Next chance she got, she would head over to the Ruby Rose to speak to Mrs. Magren.

  The house was utterly silent and Dory walked into the living room. Everything was dusted. Mr. Dellow was a house-proud man, who took care of his property and things. All the furniture was old and worn. Maybe they had been new at one time, likely at the start of his marriage, but had worn down over time.

  Walking over to the desk, Dory sat down and looked through. It seemed wrong that there was no one to inform. There had to be people who cared for him and should know of his death even if he didn't have any direct family as such.

  There was stationary, and a few letters from a vicar somewhere in Devon. The letters were familiar in tone, so they had to be friends. Maybe even all the way back to the orphanage. Dory took the envelope with the return address, determining that she would write to this man.

 
A bill from a coal merchant caught her eye, but there was nothing remarkable about it. Simply delivery of a set amount of coal. There was also a torn newspaper advert about the destruction of a part of the docks.

  It reminded her that she should check if he'd been cashing his pension checks regularly or if someone else had been doing it for him. Pensions were coveted, it seemed.

  Lastly in the pile, which looked like new correspondence, there was a letter from the council saying the files he had ordered were ready for review. It said nothing else and Dory put it to side. Nothing seemed totally out of the ordinary, but she put an envelope from the vicar in her bag. Perhaps Mr. Dellow had confided in him and knew of some threat to his person. Maybe he also knew of some deeper running dispute between Dellow and Magren beyond the quality of drinks.

  Chapter 32

  A LETTER ARRIVED the next day from Lady Pettifer containing a train ticket for Christmas Eve.

  You must come visit us, it had said. With all the sadness and distress, celebrating Christmas is more important than ever.

  Dory sighed as she read it. It was hard to get Lady Pettifer to understand that the Germans set the schedule. They couldn't simply get up and leave because they wanted to be somewhere else. These things made no sense to Lady Pettifer who would probably call Churchill himself to berate him for forcing the ATS girls to work over Christmas.

  But really, if she had the day off, she really should be spending it with her mother in Swanley. Dory could well imagine that Lady Pettifer would solve that problem by saying she could simply drive down to Swanley for Christmas Day. Everything was simple and solvable to Lady Pettifer.

  If only she could stop the Luftwaffe from coming.

  Of course Lady Pettifer had anticipated her objections, which was why she sent a train ticket that had already been paid for.

  Maybe the Germans would want to celebrate Christmas too, and they would all have some time off, but then there had been a severely anti-religious stance to the Nazis, which could mean that they rejected Christmas as well. Who knew? Nothing the Germans did was logical to Dory.