MILLY HAD MANAGED to jumble all of my papers together, and I spent the better part of an hour untangling the assault cases from the counterfeit money case from the pickpockets and the whole lot from my own notes on the Fetherton matter. As I had to re-read each page to see that it was put in the correct folder, it quickly became a tedious task. I was just finishing up and starting to consider patterns for the yarn piled up in the corner when I heard the bell on the message tube again. I considered ignoring it, then considered trying to disconnect the bell altogether, but both seemed churlish, especially if it was a policeman downstairs, so I went to have a look at who it was. I recognized Milly’s mint-green card at once. I sent down the key then glanced around the room but didn’t see anything she could have left behind.
I waited by the door as Milly came up the stairs. “Did you forget something?”
“I don’t think so. Why, did you find something?”
“I haven’t had time to look. I’ve been putting my files in order again.” It wasn’t the most welcoming of greetings, but I wasn’t in a welcoming mood.
Milly sniffed, as if she were the one irritated with me. “You ought to be grateful, Cassie. I managed to get an alibi for you.”
“Yours?” That would be progress.
“No, Randall’s.”
“Oh.” I wouldn’t mind if Randall didn’t have one. That would point the investigation away from Milly. Milly seemed disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm, and she had been arrested recently, so I tried for a bit more enthusiasm. “How did you manage that?”
“I asked his mother.”
That was helpful, as I doubted Mrs. Fetherton would be welcoming me back anytime soon. I stood aside so she could enter. When Milly didn’t go on, I realized she was waiting for me to ask, “Where was he?”
“At Westminster Abbey with his mother. She even had the ticket stub for Poet’s Corner.”
“That’s definitely not what I expected.”
“That there would be proof? But it’s lucky, isn’t it?”
“It is, I suppose, but I meant Poet’s Corner is not exactly where I would expect to find Randall.”
“Why not? He is literate, or do I mean literary?”
I had my doubts on both fronts, but we were working together rather well at the moment, so I didn’t want to say anything to spoil it. “I mean the burials. When I took him to the Paddington Street Gardens, he couldn’t get away fast enough when he remembered it had been a burial ground. I can’t really imagine him walking among dead writers, let alone over them.”
“I suppose you’re right. He doesn’t have much appreciation for dead bodies. He hasn’t been near the box room since we found her.” Milly shrugged. “But if his mother wanted to go, I suppose he didn’t like to say no to her.”
“I suppose.”
“And you wouldn’t want to say no to me after I’ve been falsely accused, would you?”
So much for working well together. “I seem to remember that you were only accused because you falsely confessed.”
“Only to give you time to prove Randall didn’t do it, but now I found his alibi all on my own, so I don’t need to worry.”
I didn’t think that needed an answer, although, from her long pause, it seemed Milly was expecting one.
When she realized I wasn’t going to ask what she wanted, Milly went on anyway. “Inspector Wainwright has asked Randall to come down and give his alibi.”
“I would have thought he’d have asked for that at the beginning.”
“Apparently he’s not satisfied with the answer Randall gave at the time, and with the attack on Nora, he wants to have all the ends tied up.”
“I’m afraid to ask what Randall said originally.”
“He doesn’t quite remember. It was such a shock finding her like that.”
Inspector Wainwright was going to have a wonderful time with him. It would almost be worth going just to witness it.
“You have to come with us, Cassie.”
“The last time you said that, I ended up having tea with the dead body of your rival.”
“But that wasn’t my fault or Randall’s.”
I found both points debatable but held my tongue.
“And Inspector Wainwright has it in for Randall. He said he wants to discuss alibis again. That’s exactly what he told Randall. He’s obsessed with Randall’s alibi.”
I would think Inspector Wainwright was obsessed with everyone’s alibi. He probably realized Randall wouldn’t have the first idea how to go about manufacturing a good one, so there was no reason to worry about losing information by telling him. But it did make sense. Nora’s final, truthful version of events didn’t mean that Randall’s wasn’t true—he could have called for his mother after Nora left by the window, but it did mean it wasn’t a bad idea to look more closely at what he’d said, and I realized I wanted to be there, and not only to see Inspector Wainwright deal with the pair of them but to hear what he had to say for himself. “All right. Let me put these away, and I’ll come with you.”
“I knew you would, Cassie. Would you like me to help?”
As she was the one who had disarranged the files in the first place, she was the last one I wanted to help. “It will be faster if I do it.”
~*~*~
Once my files were all back where they belonged and I’d gathered my coat and handbag, we set off for Scotland Yard. Randall was waiting for us by the exit to the Underground station. I had the feeling he wanted to be as far from Scotland Yard as he could for as long as he could. As Randall had been sent a summons from Inspector Wainwright and had remembered to bring it, we were admitted quickly. I had wondered if Milly and I would be allowed up, as we weren’t mentioned, but no one tried to stop us as we followed him into the lift.
When we arrived at Inspector Wainwright’s office, he glanced at Milly and me and shook his head in a way that suggested he’d been hoping we wouldn’t be on the other side of his door, then glanced at Randall in a way that suggested he was an even worse prospect. It was one of the better greetings I’d had from him, particularly when I realized he’d expected Milly and me, as he had somehow managed to squeeze a third chair into the office. I took the one I knew wouldn’t wobble and left the other two to sort themselves out.
When we were all seated, Inspector Wainwright got directly to the point. “Mr. Fetherton, I wanted to get a clearer picture of the events around the time Miss Hayes was murdered. When I questioned you before, you said you were,” he glanced down at the paper in front of him as if he wanted to be absolutely certain he go the answer exactly right, “‘out.’ Would you like to expand on that statement? Perhaps with something slightly more specific and verifiable?”
“I went with Mother to Poet’s Corner. Is that specific enough?”
Inspector Wainwright wrote that down without answering. “And the time?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t look at my watch.”
“Was the time you arrived on the ticket?”
“Ticket?”
Inspector Wainwright was staring very hard at his notes. After a pause, he said, “The ticket that you needed for entry; it should have had a time written on it and a date.”
“I don’t remember. Mother must have dealt with that.”
“You don’t remember purchasing tickets or showing them to the guide at the end of the line at the entrance?” Inspector Wainwright seemed incredulous. I agreed. Even Randall should have noticed that.
Randall shrugged. “Don’t really remember a line.”
Milly leaned over. “Didn’t your mother give you the ticket stubs to show Inspector Wainwright?”
Randall shook his head. “But I’m sure she would have if I’d told her I was coming here to be questioned. She must have them.”
“Can you give me any details to verify that you were in fact there?”
“Umm.” Randall looked at Milly for help.
“What did you see there?” she asked.
“Oh, all the major stuff, all the important ones.”
Milly gave him an encouraging smile. “Dickens, I suppose.”
“Of course.”
“And Spencer and Milton and Dr. Johnson.”
Randall nodded.
It was all very vague, and Milly feeding him answers wasn’t helping him. I could see Inspector Wainwright was getting impatient. And there was something else, something in the way he was going along with anything anyone said that made me wonder just how true this alibi was. I tried to think of someone out of the way. “Did you see Chaucer?”
“Oh yes, he gave a good talk.”
Inspector Wainwright’s head snapped up. Milly put her head in her hands. Leave it to Randall to ruin an alibi about Poet’s Corner. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or throw something at him.
“Did he, now?” Inspector Wainwright asked, suddenly very interested.
“Oh yes. May not agree with his politics, but you can’t fault his oratory.”
Inspector Wainwright tapped his notebook. “And then I suppose you went boating on the Serpentine?”
“Um... Well, we talked about it. Mother wanted to go to tea... There was some discussion...” Boating had not been planned when he’d come up with, or possibly been given, the alibi, not that there was any boating near Westminster Abbey.
Milly leaned forward and patted Randall on the arm. “That’s Hyde Park, dear. You’re confusing Poet’s Corner with Speaker’s Corner.”
“But we went to hear Chaucer.” He turned to me. “You asked if we did.”
Milly had more patience than I did. “Randall darling, Chaucer is dead.”
“Oh no, when did that happen?”
Milly glanced at me.
“Fourteenth century,” I informed him.
“Twenty-fifth of October in the year 1400,” Inspector Wainwright supplied.
Randall and I both looked at him in surprise, but for different reasons.
“I have been to Poet’s Corner,” Inspector Wainwright grinned at me. “And apparently I pay more attention than some.” The last was to Randall.
Randall was still confused. “But why did she ask about him.”
Milly sighed. “He’s buried in Poet’s Corner. In Westminster Abbey. Where you took your mother on Wednesday.”
“Why would I take Mother to see dead people? She had one in her box room, and it’s caused no end of trouble.”
Milly flopped back in her chair. “You really don’t understand the concept of alibis, do you, Randall dearest?”
“But Mother said...” He trailed off. Mrs. Fetherton must have told him not to say she had been the one to come up with the alibi.
Inspector Wainwright picked up his pen. “So Mr. Fetherton, why does your mother think you need an alibi?”
Randall opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no answer and shut it again.
“Let’s try this again, Mr. Fetherton. Where were you on Wednesday afternoon?”
“I was out with Mother?”
“And where were the two of you?”
Randall looked back at Milly. I glared at Milly at the same time so she stayed quiet but did give Randall an encouraging nod.
“We went to a park and walked around, and then we went to look at dead people and then we went home. There, are we done?” Randall looked proud of himself for cobbling the different stories together into something almost coherent so quickly.
Inspector Wainwright rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “The truth, Mr. Fetherton.”
“That is the truth.”
“His mother has the ticket stubs,” Milly added helpfully.
Inspector Wainwright sighed, “Did you happen to see the time on them?”
Milly shook her head. “No, I didn’t think it really mattered.”
“Now are we done?” Randall asked.
“No, we are not done, Mr. Fetherton, but as I don’t think I’ll be getting anything useful at the moment, you may go. I will be attempting to verify your story, though.”
Randall got to his feet and once and started for the door. Milly hurried after him, probably to keep him from getting lost. I rose more sedately to leave.
“Miss Pengear, a moment.”
I stopped in the doorway. If Inspector Wainwright wanted to keep me, it had to be something important. “Yes?”
“The night of the murder, two men called at the house just before I arrived.”
“Yes, they were collecting for a charity.”
“You saw them?”
“I answered the door.”
“Describe them for me.”
“I thought you saw them. You mentioned them.”
“It was dark. I saw two men going down the front steps as I was arriving. Now, Miss Pengear, the description?”
He’d had enough problems with Randall, so I didn’t question him any more. “The red-head was rather short, not much taller than I am. Reasonably muscular. Flat nose, due to injury I think, not nature. His ears stuck out, a bit like Constable Kittering’s, only more pronounced.” I felt terrible using the comparison, but it was the only way I could think of to accurately describe that particular feature. “Small scar above his lip. The dark-haired one was very normal, normal height, medium brown hair, normal features.” Something had struck me about him. I closed my eyes trying to see it. I was quite surprised when Inspector Wainwright said nothing, merely waited for me to remember. “A tattoo. Blue, the sort sailors sometimes have. On his hand. A pattern, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Narrow. It could have been a snake, now that I think of it.” I looked at Inspector Wainwright. There was something in his expression, in the way he was listening to me... “You know them. How would you know them? They weren’t from a charity at all, were they?”
“Miss Pengear...”
“The tattoo told you, didn’t it? A shame, really, the fellow was so normal otherwise; if he hadn’t decorated himself like that, he’d be almost impossible for someone to describe in any meaningful way. And how could you have seen them there? There was a fair bit of time between their arrival and yours, unless they were watching the house. But why would they?”
Inspector Wainwright rolled his eyes and started looking at his notes, and I realized I was rambling. I stopped abruptly. “So they were involved?”
“Miss Pengear, the next time one of your relatives is involved in a case, I’m passing the whole thing off to Burrows.”
I could sympathize with the feeling, particularly after dealing with the aftermath of Milly in my files. “And I thought you liked him.”
Inspector Wainwright’s head snapped up. I waited for whatever he was going to say, but he merely stared at me for a moment, then he seemed to remember he wanted to be rid of me and closed his notebook. “Thank you, Miss Pengear. That will be all.”
I left before he could change his mind. But I thought about it as I made my way downstairs. Why had Inspector Wainwright been interested in the men from the charity? Of course, I only had their word that that’s where they were from. They could have lied to me. And to Mrs. Fetherton. But she knew they were coming to pick up items, so they would have had to make arrangements to pick up the items before the murder had even happened. But Inspector Wainwright had been interested in them. Unless the tattoo that I had thought confirmed they were who he thought they were proved they weren’t. I sighed. If I was going to sort through another batch of Randall’s half-thought-out lies, I needed a clear head, and muddling my way through Inspector Wainwright’s motives was doing the opposite.
Milly and Randall were waiting for me on the pavement outside. I was tempted to use one of the other doors I knew about and avoid them completely, but then Milly might bring Randall back to my flat and I’d never be rid of them, so I went outside and waved in response when Milly motioned me over.
When we were close enough to hear each other without everyone else also hearing, Milly asked, “What did he mean that we weren’t done but Randall could go?”
“Just what he said, I expect. He’ll want to talk to Randall again and try to get a better alibi that he can verify. That one was less than convincing.”
“But Cassie, you know Randall gets nervous.”
I knew nothing of the sort.
“He and his mother must have gone to Poet’s Corner and then to Hyde Park or done them on two different days, and he got them mixed up. You know how difficult Inspector Wainwright can be.”
“Milly, they’re on opposite sides of town.”
“Not really, and you know you can get all over the place on the Underground. There’s an idea, Randall, do you have your Underground tickets?”
I glanced over at Randall, who was watching the two of us quietly for a change, probably hoping Milly would tell him what he was supposed to say again. “Umm.”
“Did you take the Underground?” I asked. When he didn’t say anything, I answered my own question. “You didn’t, did you?’
“Then he can find the cab driver. Really, Cassie, do I have to do all your work for you?”
“It’s Inspector Wainwright’s work, and you’re welcome to it.”
Milly rolled her eyes. “You can’t keep away from a case once you’ve started. Now Randall’s hungry, so we should have something to eat.”
“That’s a good idea. The two you can have a nice meal and discuss the case together.” Briefly, I wondered if I should worry that they would concoct some kind of alibi for Randall out of thin air, then I remembered how well Randall had done with his first alibis and decided Inspector Wainwright had nothing to worry about.
“There was that nice little place you took me to, Cassie.”
“It’s just down the street. First corner on the left.”
“You didn’t want to come?”
I wondered if she was worried about going to the wrong place or hoping I would pay for us all. Either way, I answered, “I’m not particularly hungry. You can’t miss it. First corner on the left.”
“If you’re certain, Cassie. I suppose Inspector Wainwright is enough to take anyone’s appetite. Come along, Randall. We’ll get you something to eat.”
Randall followed her quietly. I wondered if the whole mess with alibis had really bothered him that much, or if he was worried about having to see Inspector Wainwright again, or if he was just exhausted from having to think so hard. In any case, I was giving up on Randall for the time being. Inspector Wainwright would do a better job of browbeating him than I ever could, and it would absolve me of all guilt in the confrontation. I might even manage to sympathize with him and Milly over his treatment. But Milly was right, I couldn’t let the case go now, not when it was starting to take some sort of shape. But if I was leaving Randall to Inspector Wainwright, Mrs. Fetherton wouldn’t talk to me, and I wasn’t foolish enough to go poking into whoever attacked Nora, I was left with a few choices, none of them easy to follow. I decide to try my hand at the victim again. Maybe there was something in Miss Hayes’s past that Inspector Wainwright hadn’t been able to find. I would start with her place of employment. They had been willing to talk to me, and they seemed to know her rather well. Maybe there was some clue there I could follow.