THE PRESCOTT GUEST HOUSE was small and tucked between two elegant town houses. When I walked through the door, I could tell it was a converted house and the owners were trying to maintain the feeling of staying as a guest in someone’s home, presumably someone rich and well-connected. The lobby had been made out of the entryway and the front parlor combined. The clerk was sitting behind an antique desk tucked under the stairs. She was young, wearing a neat jacket and a high neck blouse with a small brooch at her neck. More of a governess than a desk clerk.
“No luggage, Miss?” She spoke cheerfully, but she was looking me over as she spoke, judging whether or not I belonged here.
“I came to visit one of your guests. Mr. Navin Sharma. Would you tell him I’m here?”
“And the nature of your business?”
I wanted to say “none of yours,” but she was still staring at me, still deciding if I belonged, just looking for an excuse to throw me out, so I searched for an answer that would pass muster if Inspector Hamilton came asking questions.
“It has to do with the merger he is here to explore.”
She considered what I’d said from several angles; at least, I assumed that’s what the shifting eyebrows meant. Apparently she couldn’t find fault with it since she said, “I’ll see if he’s in. You can wait in the lounge area.”
“Thank you.” I went into the former sitting room. It had been fitted out with all the latest inventions: steam heat in the fireplace; a steam lift crammed into what had been the hall closet in the corner; two telephone cabinets; and a desk set up with a telegraph station, although from the wires dangling under the desk, it didn’t seem to have been hooked up yet.
I heard footsteps crossing the lobby, so I sat down quickly by the fireplace and picked up the nearest newspaper.
It was an old lady in a grey suit and sensible shoes, with her knitting bag. I could feel her watching me, probably wondering what I was doing there. She sat down in the straight-back chair by the fireplace and pulled out a half-finished fair-isle baby sweater. Before I could decide if I should engage her in conversation, Mr. Sharma was led in by a young man.
“Mr. Prescott-Smythe, how nice to see you.” The old lady smiled up at the young man. “Do we have a new guest in our little home away from home?”
“Just someone to see Mr. Sharma on business, Mrs. McWade.”
Mr. Sharma was looking at me intently. I could tell he was struggling to place me. So could Mrs. McWade. Mr. Sharma looked back and forth between us. I could see the moment he recognized me, and then the moment when he remembered where he’d seen me. “You work for Mr. Carrollton, correct?”
“That’s right. We met at his dinner party.” I hoped Mr. Sharma was clever enough to catch the phrasing.
He was. “Of course. When he and I discussed the merger.” He glanced at Mrs. McWade. “There’s a very nice tea shop around the corner. Would you like to join me there?”
“It sounds lovely.” I gathered my gloves and followed him outside.
On the street, Mr. Sharma made small talk as we walked. “It’s quite a respectable establishment, as I’m sure you can tell from Mrs. McWade. It was recommended to me by Mr. Carrollton.”
“Doesn’t seem like his sort of place.”
“But quite a proper place to entertain a young lady, especially if Mrs. McWade is chaperoning. And I do like the young couple running it, trying to build it up from nothing. Here’s the tea shop. It will be empty at this hour so we can be private and respectable enough for Mrs. McWade and Mrs. Prescott-Smythe at the same time.”
When we were settled in the corner by the window and had a pot of Earl Grey and a plate of shortbread between us, Mr. Sharma got to the point. “You were the maid at Mr. Carrollton’s home the night of the dinner party.”
“That’s right. Mrs. Pomeroy, the cook, is a friend of a friend, and I was helping out. Now she thinks she will be accused of the murder.”
“And you’re helping out again. You were there with the tea when I spoke to the police inspector.”
“That’s right.”
“So you heard everything I told him. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
I didn’t know either. I’d been hoping he’d blurt out some clue. But I had him here; I had to ask him something. “The police have access to Mr. Ainsworth’s files, including the ones about Mr. Carrollton.”
“You think Carrollton has something to do with it?”
“More something about the group at the dinner party.”
“So I’m a suspect?”
“Did you have a motive?”
He smiled. “No. Mr. Ainsworth was always very honest in our dealings.”
“What were your dealings?”
“I was considering a merger with Mr. Carrollton’s company, but my accountant found that the figures I’d been shown could not possibly be accurate. At our first meeting, I showed Mr. Ainsworth the figures my accountant had concerns with, then I asked him to explain them.”
“And?”
“He said he couldn’t, but he would get to the bottom of it. Come to think of it, I had the impression he already knew about it.”
“You mean you think he was already investigating it? So it wasn’t something wrong with the company itself?”
“He told me at the party there would be something for us to discuss the next day, but he didn’t tell me what. Mr. Carrollton was there at the time. I thought he was referring to the engagement, perhaps to discuss the terms of a dowry if I was amenable, but he never actually said that. Perhaps he had found the leak and stopped it.”
“They why would he tell you later? Why not right away?”
Mr. Sharma stirred his tea. “You think he was going to fix the leak that night but was prevented. That does make sense.”
“What kind of leak could be plugged in one night?” I had one idea myself, but I wanted to hear what he said.
Mr. Sharma stared at his cup. “Nothing fundamental to the company like a supplier or factory. All I can think of is crime.” He looked up. “And if he was resolving it there, it must have been one of the guests.”
I nodded. “You said Mr. Carrollton was there, so he knew what Mr. Ainsworth said.”
“Oh yes, all three of us were talking. He knew. That would seem to confirm it, then. They must have been discussing it prior to the party.” He put his cup down and reached for his wallet. “I’m going to speak to Inspector Hamilton. Will you be in trouble if I tell him I spoke with you?”
“No, I certainly wouldn’t want you to lie. But perhaps you could just say we met for tea, not that I sought you out. Unless he asks.”
Mr. Sharma smiled. “Of course. I hope your friend is proven innocent. Good afternoon.” He put a handful of coins on the table and left the shop.
The teapot was still half full, so I refilled my cup and considered what Mr. Sharma had said. A crime that would cause the business to lose money. What would that be?
When I put it like that, it was obvious. Embezzlement. And if Mr. Ainsworth had thought to wrap it up that night, then his main suspect was most likely at the dinner party. So, who was it?
I ruled out Mr. Sharma. He wasn’t part of the company; he wouldn’t have had any way to access the money.
Miss Carrollton didn’t seem to have any dealings with the company finances. Until I was certain, I would put her to the side but not rule her out.
Mrs. Delford had access to Mr. Ainsworth’s books, but what about Mr. Carrollton’s? I would need to see the office, I decided, see what kind of notes were kept. Even though I didn’t want to suspect her, she was still a definite possibility.
Then there was Mr. Warland. He was Mr. Carrollton’s secretary, so he would certainly have access to the finances.
I ruled the servants out. Belmont and James were ill, so only Mrs. Pomeroy was regular staff that night, and I was working under the assumption that she was innocent. Besides, how would she have access to the company’s accounts? The same for Belmont and James.
And then it was possible that there was someone not at the party, at least not officially. Someone could have been waiting before or after, or suspected something was up when Mr. Sharma was invited and snuck in. A secret meeting would explain the fire in the study. Or maybe Mr. Ainsworth was only going to tell Mr. Carrollton that night, and deal with the embezzler the next day at the office.
Mrs. Delford would know if there was an unusual appointment. She would probably know if there was someone Mr. Ainsworth was paying particular attention to, as well. Of course, if it was her, she would tell me something completely made up to send me in the wrong direction.
The teapot was cold and Mr. Sharma had left enough money to cover the bill, so I gathered up my things and went to the nearest Underground station to make my way to Parkside House. Mrs. Pomeroy would be able to give me Mr. Warland’s address and tell me if there was anyone else I should add to my list of suspects. I considered going home first and asking Mrs. Albright to go with me, but it was already almost four. If I took the time to go back to Paddington Street, we’d be traveling to Mr. Carrollton’s with all of the clerks and bankers making their way home, and Mrs. Pomeroy would be busy preparing dinner when we got there. If I went to Mr. Carrollton’s house at once, I might be able to catch her before she started dinner. That decided me.