Clara exited Emerson Chambers into the hot sun of Newcastle city centre, accompanied by Andrew Ridpath. The accountant had offered to take her to Uncle Bob’s office to collect the cash for Antony. They had just spent half an hour going through the finer details of Uncle Bob’s accounts. Roger Jennings had excused himself from that, having to leave for a meeting elsewhere in town, but had allowed Ridpath and Clara to use his office.
Now here they were, walking together along Blackett Street. They passed clothing boutiques in Eldon Square with mannequins sporting light floral frocks. Clara could feel the sweat pooling at the base of her back. Although she wore a light blouse under her jacket, she dared not take it off. No longer because of fear of not appearing professional enough, but because she expected she would not smell that pleasant. She wished she could pop back to the hotel to change, but decided it would be best to conclude the business with Mr Ridpath first.
Ridpath made polite small talk as they walked, matching his stride to hers. He was not, physically, what Clara conventionally thought an accountant should look like. He was tall and athletic, and she imagined he might do well playing tennis. He, like Jennings Snr, greeted people they passed with a polite nod and a warm smile, occasionally raising his hat, but she never felt for a moment that his attention was on anyone other than her.
‘Is this your first visit to Newcastle, Miss Vale?’
‘It is. Although my mother was born here we never visited as a family. The times I saw Uncle Bob he came down to us. Did you know my uncle well?’
‘Reasonably well. I’ve been his accountant for ten years.’
‘So you know where all the skeletons are then,’ she said, in a tone that surprised her in its playfulness. There was something about Andrew Ridpath that made her relax, despite her personal hygiene worries.
He laughed. ‘Spoken like a true detective, Miss Vale!’
She turned to him and caught his gaze. ‘You’re joking, I know, but in all seriousness, that’s the real issue here. Will I make a good detective? Should I keep the business or sell it?’
‘Why do you have to decide that now?’
‘Well, because that’s what I’m here for. To receive my inheritance. And that includes the business.’
Ridpath gestured for Clara to turn right onto Percy Street. ‘But the business is only eight per cent of the total inheritance.’
Clara considered the figures for a moment, doing a quick calculation. ‘It is, on paper, but in terms of worry, it’s the majority portion. It was the business that was at the core of Uncle Bob’s concern when he named me his heir. And, in terms of responsibility, it’s my biggest worry.’
Ridpath stopped and turned to Clara. ‘I’m sorry to hear that it’s a worry. Why do you say that?’
Quite. Why did she say that? She gathered her thoughts as they waited for a tram to pass, mindful not to be distracted as poor Jimmy Whittaker was, then said: ‘Because I think my decision about whether or not to move to Newcastle – to leave my job and my life in London behind – hinges on it. This is not just an inheritance and a financial nest egg, but a potential turning point in my life. And that’s hard to quantify in percentages.’
Ridpath nodded and then gently touched Clara’s elbow to guide her across the road and the tram track, careful too to avoid piles of horse droppings. On the other side he said: ‘I’m just a humble accountant, Miss Vale, and I find comfort in assigning values to things, but I know too that money is not the only thing of worth.’ He grinned suddenly, his green eyes lighting up under the shadow of his hat. ‘But don’t tell my clients that.’
Clara chuckled. ‘I won’t. But you’re right – it’s not just a question of money. That’s why it’s harder to make a decision about it, and calculations cannot be made the same way. I understand calculations too; I’m a scientist by training. But this is different.’
‘Is it?’ he said, carrying on up Percy Street towards the office. ‘Isn’t it just a matter of replacing the values on the profit and loss statement with things other than pounds and pence? Things like happiness, satisfaction, security, family responsibility, and so on.’
Clara stopped walking. ‘Now that makes sense. So, what would I put in the profit column?’
Ridpath looked down at her. ‘Well, that’s up to you. But the first question I would ask myself if I were in your shoes is, do I actually want to be a detective? And what then would be the pros and cons of pursuing that path.’
‘And whether I have the skills to do so. Or if not, where I lack, can I buy those skills in?’
‘It sounds like you’ve already been thinking along these lines.’
‘I have. I must say it hit me like a bolt from the blue yesterday when I heard Uncle Bob was leaving me a detective agency, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it in the last twenty-four hours. Mostly I’ve been thinking about what he saw in me to make him believe I’d be good at this. But … on top of that, I had a visit from one of Uncle Bob’s clients yesterday, and I’ve started to look into the case—’
Before she could finish a woman waved frantically to them from the doorway of the costumier. Juju Levine, Clara realised.
‘Oh, Miss Vale! I’m so glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure how to get hold of you. But, oh my, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but there’s been a break-in in the office upstairs.’
‘Good gracious! What happened? This is Mr Ridpath, by the way.’
Juju nodded to Ridpath. ‘Yes, we’ve met. Oh, Miss Vale, Mr Ridpath, I heard someone moving around upstairs and I assumed it was you. So I went up to ask if you wanted a cup of tea – it’ll be lovely to get to know you more, you see – but as I opened the door of the office, someone barged past me and pushed me to the floor and ran down the stairs!’
Clara assessed the woman, quickly, from head to toe. ‘Are you all right? Are you hurt?’
‘No, no,’ said Juju, who although not injured was clearly panicked, ‘but he did give me a fright.’
‘Did you see who it was?’ asked Ridpath. ‘And have you called the police?’
‘No, I didn’t see. It was all so quick. It was a man; that’s all I could tell. Youngish – I suppose – but I couldn’t swear to it. Dark blue overcoat, possibly, but that’s not much help. Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Vale! By the time I’d gathered myself and run down the stairs, he was gone. I was just about to call the police when you arrived.’
‘Stay here,’ said Ridpath, and approached the door to Wallace Enquiry Agency.
Clara ignored him and followed, as did Juju.
‘The door hasn’t been forced. So someone used a key. Who has keys?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Clara. ‘Mr Jennings gave me keys, but I don’t know who else has them. Best I have the locks changed.’
‘Best you do. I can recommend a locksmith.’
The three of them ascended the stairs: Ridpath, Clara then Juju. Ridpath again asked them to stay where they were until he had checked that there was no one else there. This time Clara and Juju waited. A moment later he returned after having checked the toilet and kitchenette behind the office. ‘All clear.’
Clara looked around, taking in files strewn across the desk and the floor. The filing cabinet drawers were open, but she had no idea what had been taken. Then a thought struck her: ‘The safe! Where’s the safe? Has he taken the money for Antony?’
Ridpath opened what appeared to be a cloakroom cupboard and got down on his knees. Clara peered over him and saw a metal safe on the floor at the back.
‘It’s not open, but it might have been. Let’s see.’
‘Hold on a moment,’ said Clara, and strode across the office floor and shut the door at the top of the stairs, bolting it from the inside. ‘Just in case he comes back,’ said Clara to a pale-faced Juju.
‘I’ll need the combination,’ said Ridpath.
‘Hang on, I’ll get it.’ Clara opened the document file that Jennings Jnr had given her when she signed her acceptance of the inheritance. The combination was listed in there.
‘What is it?’ asked Ridpath.
‘Here, let me,’ said Clara, indicating that Ridpath should come out of the cupboard and let her in. She had no reason to distrust the accountant, but she had no reason to trust him either. He politely acquiesced.
Clara noted that the safe was similar to the one her father used, and after a quick appraisal of how the locking mechanism worked, dialled the six-digit number and opened the safe.
Inside there were some more files, a petty cash money box and a revolver. She was startled when she saw the weapon but that was not her main concern for now. The petty cash box was locked. She checked her bunch of keys and found a couple of small ones that might fit. The second one did the trick. She opened the box and was relieved to discover that there was a hefty wadge of high-denomination banknotes. She didn’t count it, but it could easily amount to hundreds of pounds. She let out a sigh of relief. ‘It doesn’t look as if he’s been in here.’
She took out the money box and relocked the safe, reminding herself that she would still need to reset the combination.
Ridpath helped Clara to her feet as she held the box under one arm.
‘So,’ said the accountant, ‘for now, it looks like he either didn’t find the money or Miss Levine here interrupted him before he could do so.’
‘Or,’ said Clara, taking in the strewn files, ‘he wasn’t after the money at all.’
‘Do you really think so? What else might he have taken?’ asked Ridpath.
‘I don’t know, but my bet will be a file. Miss Levine, did you see him holding anything as he pushed past you?’
‘Please, call me Juju. And I’m sorry, I didn’t see. I was face down on the floor and he was gone by the time I looked up.’
Clara was frustrated that the only witness was not a particularly observant one, but she gave Juju an understanding nod. Then she approached the filing cabinet. There were four drawers. The top drawer, A–F, wasn’t open, the next two were partially open, and the bottom drawer, S–Z, was fully open and its contents scattered.
‘It looks like he was searching this drawer. Might he have been looking for something alphabetically?’
‘Are you suggesting he was looking for a specific file, as in a specific case of your uncle’s?’ asked Ridpath.
‘It’s possible,’ said Clara, noting that W for Whittaker would have been in the bottom drawer, if the file was not in her hotel room. ‘But I won’t be able to tell until I know exactly which files should have been there. Do you know if my uncle kept a list of his cases in a separate register?’
‘He probably did, but I’m not sure where he kept it.’
‘I can help you look for it,’ offered Juju. ‘And to tidy up. I’ll just have to let Jonny know what’s going on so he can watch the shop.’
Ridpath looked at his watch. ‘Unfortunately, Miss Vale, I won’t be able to help you with that. If you still want to get to the bank this afternoon, we’ll have to go quickly. And I’ll have to arrange that locksmith. And the police … we’ll have to report a break-in.’
‘But it wasn’t a break-in,’ said Clara. ‘Someone let themselves in. Will the police consider it a crime?’
‘We should probably still report it,’ said Ridpath.
‘All right,’ said Clara. ‘Let’s divide up the jobs. Do you need me at the bank?’
‘Not really. You’ve given me your brother’s account details. I’ll transfer the money from my business account to his, then reimburse myself from the cash here. And there’s a locksmith not far away; I’ll drop in on my way down to the bank and ask him to come here.’ He looked concerned. ‘Will you be all right on your own?’
‘I will, thank you,’ said Clara, remembering the revolver in the safe. ‘Juju here has said she’ll help me. And I’ll ring the police and they should be here soon, too – one should hope.’
‘All right then. If the police need a statement from me let them know I’ll come into the station later to give it. Give them my name and telephone number and they can give my office a ring.’ He handed Clara his card. She handed him the petty cash box, which he slipped into his briefcase.
Ridpath waited until Clara had telephoned the police and was assured that someone would be around in half an hour before he and Juju withdrew.
‘I’ll be back in a tick!’ said Juju, skipping down the stairs like a woman half her age.
‘And I’ll be back … when? Where shall I meet you?’
‘Do you need to meet me?’
‘Well, I suppose I should confirm to you that the money has been transferred. Where are you staying?’
‘The Royal Central Station Hotel.’
‘All right, I’ll give them a ring and leave a message for you.’
Ridpath raised his hat and left as Juju was trotting back up the stairs, carrying a jug of milk. Clara let her in then shut and bolted the door.