WE HANDED OUT the statements to the waiting employees and when they were signed, Arcady dismissed them. They were anxious to know when work would resume. Mr. Rosenthal declared that they could all have the next day off. They would be paid as usual, but could make up the lost hours over the next few days. Come in a half an hour earlier and work a little later. He said he was considering paying a bonus to those who came in. “For the inconvenience,” he said. I gulped at his choice of words, but mostly his employees were happy with his suggested arrangement. Not even Fred Lishman complained, although he continued to look sour. Mr. Rosenthal’s popularity had risen by leaps and bounds.
Arcady left a constable at the premises and commandeered young Detective Parrish to be the chauffeur of the police car.
“Klein’s landlady is expecting us,” he said. “We’ll go there first.”
This was the first opportunity I’d had all day to go outside and so had not checked on the weather. No change to speak of, except that it was now quite dark. The streetlights reflected on the wet pavements and the few people who were out clutched at umbrellas as if rain had never fallen into their lives before.
“Miserable day,” said Arcady. I assumed he was referring to the weather, but he may have been looking back on what had happened at the Superior shop.
“Miss Frayne, why don’t you take the front seat? I’ll ride in the back.”
We did as directed, and Parrish after a couple of tries got the car started. Even to my ears, the engine sounded rough. A reliable working police car obviously wasn’t a priority in the department. Arcady muttered some comment that I didn’t catch, but the meaning was clear, especially as he said, “We might have to get out and push at this rate. That or hire a horse.”
“Sorry, sir.”
With a jerk, the car moved off. Parrish was looking worried. He was at the beginning of his career and I could tell how nervous Arcady made him.
Sullivan Street wasn’t too far away. We actually drove past Phoebe Street where Mr. Gilmore lived and I had a twinge of guilt. I hadn’t had a chance yet to do as he asked and find some accommodations for him. I hoped I could get to it tomorrow at the latest.
As we pulled up, Arcady tapped Parrish on the shoulder. “What was the landlady like? Is she going to be hysterical?”
“I don’t think so, sir. She seemed more distressed at losing her boarder’s money than grief for the man. Her first question was, ‘Who’s going to pay for the funeral?’”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said you would have all that information.”
“Don’t know if I do. There’s usually somebody in the family to take care of such matters. It’s not a concern of our department.”
Obviously, it wasn’t the fault of the young detective that Klein had died without a next of kin, but Arcady had that strange knack of conveying a misdemeanour even if there wasn’t one.
“I’ll pursue the matter, sir.”
He parked the car and we all got out. I was actually glad that he’d told us the landlady didn’t seem to care. Possibly having to probe into the dead man’s proclivities might add to the pain of grief.
“What’s her name?” Arcady asked.
“Mrs. Mary Liddell, sir. She’s a widow.”
The sad widow opened the door promptly.
“I thought you’d never get here. I’ve been waiting.”
Good manners were obviously not her strong suit.
Parrish, who did possess such, tipped his hat.
“Sorry ma’am. We came as soon as we could.” He indicated Arcady and me. “This is Detective Arcady and Miss Frayne, who’s assisting us.
“We’d like to take a look at Mr. Klein’s room,” interjected Arcady, who had no fear of ignoring niceties.
Mrs. Liddell stepped back a little and we crammed into the narrow, dark hall.
“His room is on the third floor. On the left. The other one’s empty.”
Arcady started to head up the stairs, but she caught him by the sleeve.
“Who’s going to take care of his estate, I’d like to know? Will the city bury him given what’s happened? I’m a widow. I can’t afford to do it. He was just a boarder here. No relation.”
“Did he have any relatives we can contact?” asked Arcady.
“None that came here. He lived a quiet life. Went to work, came home, went to work. That’s it.”
“No church?”
“Nope. Me, I go regular, but not him.”
She conveyed such disapproval I wondered how she could tolerate renting the room at all.
“Let’s do this job first, but I’ll make sure somebody gets in touch with you about his effects.” Arcady began to move away. “We’ll need to have a talk later. Where will you be?’
“Where I’ve been all day. Waiting in my parlour.”
Arcady paused. “Are there any other people residing here, Mrs. Liable.”
I almost burst out laughing at his mistake, although with him it was hard to tell if it was deliberate or not.
“At the moment, no. I’m careful about who I rent to. You have to be when you’re a widow. There’s been just Mr. Klein and me for the past two weeks.” She softened her voice. “If you do happen to know of somebody needing a nice clean and bright room, meals and laundry extra, you can send them along. Reasonable rates.”
“Nobody comes to mind …,” he tailed off.
Parrish and I followed him up the stairs. They were carpeted with sisal that was threadbare at the treads. The wallpaper should have been stripped off a long time ago and seemed to have already started the process.
“I’m a widow. I can’t afford a funeral, you know,” Mrs. Liddell called after us.
Arcady ignored her and continued up to the second floor. There were two rooms here, each with their doors closed. The wattage in the single light bulb was so low it was barely functional. The air could have done with a good blast of oxygen.
We went up an even narrower flight to the third floor, where there was a small landing and two more doors, one open, one closed. Same dim light and same stale air.
Through the door that was open, I glimpsed a bare wooden floor with enough dust to make a beach. Arcady tried the other door which wasn’t locked. We went inside.
The room was in complete darkness.
Arcady swore at it. “Where’s the bloody light switch?”
He began to pat at the wall, but Parrish beat him to it and flipped on the light. What was revealed by the magic of electricity wasn’t edifying. I’d say it was an ugly room that spoke of neglect of place, person, life itself. The iron bed was unmade, the sheets tumbling to the floor. They looked as if they had last encountered a laundry in pre-electricity times. A pair of pyjamas, also in need, were piled on a chair. There was a tiny fireplace, no visible fuel; a wardrobe with a torn curtain. In one corner there was a bamboo screen. Arcady walked over and moved it aside.
“Phew.”
I understood the reaction. Behind the screen was a minuscule sink and a commode. The kind that needed regular emptying, which it hadn’t. For several days.
Arcady replaced the screen.
“What are we looking for, sir?” Parrish asked.
“You’ll know when you see it,” answered Arcady. “You take the wardrobe and I’ll look in the desk. Miss Frayne, you …”
I interrupted him. “I hope you aren’t about to ask me to search the bed. I don’t have rubber gloves with me.”
He grimaced. “No, I’ll do it. Stay where you are. There’s no room to swing a rat in this mousehole anyway.”
I could understand his sudden fixation with vermin to describe anything to do with Klein’s rented room.
There wasn’t much for me to do except watch Arcady and Parrish do their jobs.
Parrish pulled aside the wardrobe curtain, which did not reveal many clothes. A pair of trousers and a couple of jackets, all dark colours. He started to go through the pockets of a jacket. Arcady walked over to a rolltop desk by the window; it was certainly the best, perhaps the only piece of decent furniture in the room. He rolled up the top.
Surprisingly, the inside of the desk was empty, except for a blotting paper pad and an inkwell.
Arcady bent down. “Now if I know anything about these old things, they usually have a secret drawer somewhere where you can hide the key to the tea tin or some such thing.”
The historical reference surprised me. I had been underestimating the man.
“Ah, ah.” He removed a small drawer that was at the back of the desk and started to fish around in the opening. “Thought so,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice. He took out a brown envelope and opened it. He removed what seemed to be a bundle of postcards. Whatever he saw caused his head to jerk up as if he were holding something hot.
“Whoa. Lookie, lookie.”
Thinking he was asking me to do just that, I moved to approach the desk, but he thrust out his arm to stop me. “No, not you, Miss Frayne. You don’t want to see these.” He beckoned to Parrish. “Come take a look.”
The detective went over and Arcady handed him the postcards. He looked at them and also registered shock.
I have to admit that in the two years since I had been a private investigator, I cannot say I had been forced to deal with the less salubrious side of human nature. Cheating wives and husbands, along with ungrateful pets who had gone on adventures, was about the extent of it. (Not counting this summer’s murders and their fallout.)
“Do you mind telling me what they are?” I asked, although from the look on the faces of both men I could guess.
Parrish shoved the cards back into the envelope. “Let’s say our Mr. Klein got his thrill from viewing naughty postcards.”
“Very naughty,” added Arcady.
He replaced the envelope in the desk and pulled down the top.
“Parrish, d’you get anything from the wardrobe?”
“Just this. It was in his suit pocket.”
He held out a small paper package. There was a picture on the front of a semi naked woman and the word, Phantasma. What he was holding was a popular prophylactic.
“What the crap? Sorry, Miss Frayne.”
“Don’t apologize, sir. I’m familiar with the word.”
“Put it in the desk for now, Parrish. We’ll have to collect all these things later.”
He walked over to the bed. “What other delights was he hiding?”
He jerked everything off, sheets, blankets, and mattress but there was nothing untoward unless you counted the mousetrap that was underneath the frame. Empty, I might add.
I looked around the room. “Klein was an ex-soldier, but he didn’t bring that into his own room. There’s nothing that I can see. No service medals, no demob certificate, not a photograph in sight. Except for what we’ve found so far, it’s utterly impersonal.”
Arcady scrunched up his face in distaste. “I’ve had to examine the rooms and belongings of dead people before now, but I’d say this has to be one of the most pathetic. Is there no one to bury him because of the kind of man he was or was he that kind of man because there is no one to bury him?”
“Well, he was a pervert, for one thing. He preyed on young women and tyrannized his subordinates. Those aren’t exactly attractive qualities.”
Arcady actually laughed. “You’re right about that, Miss Frayne. And I think you make a good point about him supposedly being a veteran. I’d like to have a look at his war record. We’ll get on to it tomorrow.”
He yawned, a wide unprotected yawn. “I’m bagged. I’ll have to get a constable to come over and keep guard until we can search everything more thoroughly in daylight. Tell Mrs. What’s-her-name that we need to lock up this room. While you’re talking to her, ask if she remembers Klein getting any visitors recently.”
Arcady leaned against the wall, removed his hat, and rubbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. “I think I’m coming down with something. Don’t come too close, Miss Frayne.”
No danger there. I was certainly feeling more friendly toward him, but we hadn’t got as far as a hug and a kiss.
He wiped his face again. He was definitely looking pale and sweaty.
Parrish gazed at him with concern. “Maybe you should go home, sir. Miss Frayne and I can call on the others on the list. There are only four. I’ll report back to you.”
Arcady chewed on his lip. “Maybe you’re right. Skip the woman with tb. If she’s got consumption, she probably wouldn’t have the strength to stick scissors in Klein’s chest. Who’s nearest to here?”
I checked. “Miriam Cohen lives at number sixty-four D’Arcy.”
“Did I interview her?”
“You did. An attractive young woman. Nicely dressed. She’s the one you allowed to leave early.”
I swear my voice was as neutral as cold rice pudding, but Arcady scowled in response.
“I have learned to trust my gut in these matters, Miss Frayne. I don’t think she’s our guilty party.”
“Is your gut pointing at anyone in particular?”
“I told you, my money is on the commie. Lishman. Why were we planning to visit the Cohen woman? She’s still employed, isn’t she?”
“She is. Because she left early and we hadn’t heard from Miss Koenig yet, I wondered if we needed to speak to her further.”
He grunted.
“Ruby’s statement could be very helpful don’t you think?” interjected Parrish. “If Klein was expecting to meet her at seven, he would have unlocked the door then. She says when she arrived at eight, the door was already locked. That’s a narrow window of time and we can pinpoint alibis more definitely.”
Arcady took his cigarette case from his pocket and started the ritual of lighting up. He didn’t offer one to Parrish.
“Assuming she’s not lying.”
“Why would she lie?” I asked.
“They do, Miss Frayne. People lie all the time.”
“What would you like us to do, sir?” Parrish got back into the conversation. “I can drive you home and Miss Frayne and I can continue.”
Arcady waved his hand. “You don’t need to take me home. A walk will clear my head. Like she says, D’Arcy Street is closest. Go see if you can get any further with Miss Cohen.”
It was a relief to leave this pathetic room and go back downstairs.
Mrs. Liddell was waiting for us in the hall. “Well?”
Arcady answered. “A police constable will be arriving shortly to seal the room. Tomorrow there will be other members of the investigative team. In the meantime, you must not enter that room or touch anything that is in there. Or allow any other person to enter or handle anything. Is that clear, ma’am?”
He was addressing her in a very stern voice. It actually seemed to work. At least it appeared that way at first; but, after a brief moment, she said, “This coming and going is very bad for my business. I hope I will be compensated. I am a widow after all.”
For once Arcady answered diplomatically. “We’ll talk about all that sort of thing at a later date, ma’am.” He tipped his hat. “Thank you for your co-operation.”
We left.
Arcady stuck to his decision to walk and Parrish and I climbed into the car.
“Hope the old man doesn’t keel over before he gets home,” said Parrish as we drove off. He sounded genuinely concerned.