AT PARKSIDE HOUSE, Mrs Pomeroy answered the door on the second knock. “Miss Pengear, I wasn’t expecting... Please come in.” I saw her slip a small book into her apron pocket and could barely make out the title. The Dastardly Duke. One of Mrs. Albright’s gifts, no doubt.
“I won’t bother you if you’re fixing dinner.”
“No, no. I have the kettle on. Have a cup and some cake. I’m afraid it’s shop-bought, but I still haven’t gotten everything straightened up from the police.”
I cut off her apologizing. “Shop-bought is fine.” I followed Mrs. Pomeroy through to the kitchen and noticed the pots on the stove.
Mrs. Pomeroy saw where I was looking. “Don’t worry about that. I had to start the soup early. It just needs to simmer for another hour.” She brought over the teapot and a cake with creamy white frosting. “I'm afraid it's only a chocolate cake with buttercream frosting and a nice Assam. You took your tea black, right?”
“Yes, thanks.” I’d learned my lesson and had two forkfuls of the cake — which was excellent even if it was shop-bought — before I got to the point of my visit. “I’ve been looking into Mr. Ainsworth’s death.”
“Mrs. Albright said you would. So very kind of you to go to the trouble. So, who did it?”
Why did everyone think solutions magically appeared as soon as I started to look for them? “I haven’t gotten that far yet. But I wanted to talk to some of the other guests. Do you have their addresses?”
Mrs. Pomeroy paused with her hand on the teapot. “I suppose I could look in Mr. Carrollton’s address book. Mr. Sharma’s won’t be there but—”
“I know where Mr. Sharma is staying. Could you get Mr. Warland’s and Miss Carrollton’s, and Mrs. Delford’s home and at Mr. Ainsworth’s if she’s still there?”
“I think I can get those. Oh, you want me to do it now?”
“If you could.”
Mrs. Pomeroy took another sip of tea then went to the stairs.
While I waited for her to come back, I ate as much of the cake as I could. I’d managed to finish half the slice before she came back with a sheet of paper with four addresses written on it. I put my fork down and went back to sipping my tea politely. “Perfect. Thank you.”
She put the list down on the table near my plate and picked up her tea again.
I glanced at the list. I could make it to Mr. Warland’s house before dinner. I slipped the paper into my pocket. “Did you know anything about Mr. Ainsworth’s work for Mr. Carrollton?”
“Only that he handled legal matters for the business. Why?”
“I’ve heard some talk about embezzlement.”
Mrs. Pomeroy poured out some more tea. “I can’t think of anything he would have said about embezzlement. Mr. Ainsworth did visit quite a bit, but that wasn’t unusual. I thought they were arranging things for Miss Carrollton’s wedding.”
“Was that decided?”
Mrs. Pomeroy smiled. “By Mr. Carrollton I think, but not by Miss Carrollton or Mr. Sharma. They were still feeling each other out.”
“So they wouldn’t have been discussing the dowry that night.”
“Oh, not at all.”
“Was there anything unusual about that night? Anything you remember?”
She shook her head. “No, just the usual run of preparations. He changed the guest list twice, but that wasn’t unusual.”
“Why?”
“Two of the guests were ill.”
“Could I have their names anyway?” It was possible one of them was my embezzler.
“Mr. Garland and Miss. Kurtfield. I don’t have their addresses. I think you would need to check with Mr. Warland.”
“Who are they?” And would they be good suspects: that was the real question.
“Mr. Garland is head of one of the departments at Mr. Carrollton’s company. Steam valves, I think. Miss Kurtfield is a secretary somewhere. Personnel, bookkeeping, I can’t remember. I just know she’s only invited when there’s business to be discussed.”
“And nothing else? Nothing that struck you as odd afterwards, maybe?”
“No, nothing that happened there.”
I caught a hesitation in her voice. “But something happened after?”
“Not so much happened as, well, I was talking about all of this to the cook next door, Mrs. O’Banion, I mean it’s only right they know when something like this happens in the neighborhood, and she said their telephone was just fine during the storm. Then I asked the butler at Number 64, and he was certain theirs was working too, since he had to call the doctor that night. Mr. Jacobson is an elderly man who decides he’s dying at least once a week.”
“Did they ever figure out what was wrong with the phone here?”
“Not that I know of, but Ross said it must have been one of the trees hitting against it. Not that he would know, but it does seem to make sense.”
I wondered if it did.
“And of course Belmont ran out of his medicine. He blamed Ross, of course, but I hope he isn’t going to turn out like his predecessor in that regard.”
“Was there anyone Mr. Ainsworth and Mr. Carrollton seemed particularly interested in?”
“You mean someone they were investigating? No, I didn’t hear much when he visited. Belmont waited table. If they discussed anything, he would have heard.”
“How is he feeling?” I was hoping to question him, of course.
“Still poorly; which reminds me, I’ll have to order him another bottle of his tonic. He’s down to the last doses.”
My ears perked up again. Mysterious tonics sounded better than most of my clues. “Would you like me to drop the order off?”
“Would you, dear? The chemist will deliver it in the morning.” She got the order from a tin box above the sink. “The address is on the outside.”
I made a hurried good-bye to Mrs. Pomeroy and rushed outside. I was halfway down the street when I stopped to unfold the paper and look at the order, but it was an order for a simple commercial tonic widely rumored to contain sugar and alcohol. Nothing incriminating. Nothing he could use to poison someone. I looked at the address again, then scanned the street to see where the chemist’s was. I heard a cab pass me and looked up. I saw Mr. Carrollton get out of the cab. If he was home, Mr. Warland must be home as well. I spotted the street the chemist’s shop was on and rushed to drop off the order. I didn’t want to brave the Underground just then, so I hailed Mr. Carrollton’s cab as it pulled away and gave the driver Mr. Warland’s address.