The police station proved to be easy to find. Inspector Burrows had told me it was near the college, so I started near the entrance and worked my way down the street until I found the sign. The constable behind the desk smiled at me when I entered. “How can I help you, miss?”
“I’m here to see Inspector Burrows.”
“Just a moment, I’ll see if he’s in back.”
As the constable disappeared through the door to the offices, I leaned against the desk and looked around. The main lobby was small, separated from the constable’s office area by a gate that could be locked with a key. I saw three small closet-like cubicles also with locks, which I realized were probably cells for unruly students who weren’t really under arrest but needed to be frightened or to sleep off their evening. There was a telegraph table against the far wall, and the constable’s desk had a telephone. From where I stood, I could see there was a calendar on the desk, and at least three notepads and a jumble of pens, but nothing particularly revealing. I was going to lean over the desk and try to look at the notice board hidden by the partition when the door to the offices opened and another man came out. He was wearing a suit and looked very official but was also smiling. “Can I be of assistance, miss? Inspector Crawley.”
So this was whom Inspector Burrows was displacing on the case. I knew he wouldn’t be quite so accommodating when I said, “I’m afraid I was looking for Inspector Burrows. He called me down here as a suspect in the murder.”
“You’re a suspect? You’re not even from the area.”
I was impressed that he knew his city so well he placed me as a stranger at once, particularly as the city contained so many temporary student residents. “I think I might be more of a witness, really, but early days as he would say.” I highly doubted he would say that, but I felt I had to say something in his defense.
“Well, he has the murder to himself, and he’s not at his desk, so I don’t know where he is. If there’s nothing I can help you with, I’ll get back to my own cases. I have two missing cats to find. Apparently I’m still qualified for that.”
Definitely not happy about being displaced. I didn’t think he’d take kindly to being asked to play messenger by leaving my address on Inspector Burrows’s desk. “I’m sure their families will be glad when you do.” I wasn’t really sure what else to say, but despite what he thought, I was quite certain he was capable of solving a murder on his own, and anyway it was always advisable to stay on a policeman’s good side.
“I’m sure they will, as soon as the cats get tired of catching their own food and go home for dinner. Enjoy your stay in Oxford.” He nodded farewell and went back to the offices. The constable passed him on the way out.
“I take it it wasn’t something he could help you with?”
“Unfortunately, no. I needed to leave my address with Inspector Burrows.”
“Oh, I was hoping you had a nice robbery to cheer him up. Attempted kidnapping. I say, you didn’t ask him to leave the address, did you?”
“It didn’t seem right.”
“Just what he’d need, to be the Scotland Yard man’s secretary. What was the message you were leaving?”
“Just that I’m staying at Mrs. Eggleston’s Guest House for the foreseeable future.”
“I’ll tell Inspector Burrows when he gets in.”
“Thanks. And if I stumble on any good robberies, I’ll go straight to your inspector.”
The constable grinned. “I’d appreciate it. He’s not usually like this. In-law troubles.”
“That sounds serious.”
“Well, they didn’t like their girl marrying a policeman to begin with. It’s fine as long as they stay in Norfolk, but they’re coming down for a visit and just when a nice murder case has been snatched away from him by a Scotland Yard man like he’s not capable of solving it. And he could, but it’s going to make for some uncomfortable dinners.”
“Would it help if I had a word with Inspector Burrows? He’s not usually like this either, but there was something about this particular case...” I didn’t want him to ask what, so I added, “At least I think there was. He wouldn’t just push himself onto a case for no reason. Not normally.”
“If you think it would help, but don’t tell Inspector Crawley. The last thing he needs is to feel like a charity case. I’m Constable Winters; if you do run into any nice burglaries, I’ll pass them along.”
~*~*~
With no help to be had at the police station, I was left to my own devices. Not that that bothered me; I preferred to find my own areas to investigate without anyone saying I was intruding on police business, no matter how kindly meant.
So now where to start poking around? I was fairly certain Inspector Burrows wanted me to look at Professor Brookwald and Mr. Langley and either rule them out for him or tell him there was something there that he should be looking into. Of course, the best way to determine that was to find the real killer. I considered everything I had learned so far, which was a surprising amount compared to what I usually had to work with. I started with Inspector Burrows mentioning the Bodleian Library and fan vaulting, turning everything over in my head, looking for hidden clues. I finally came to the conclusion he was either making conversation or trying to find something to distract me from the rest of the case. Either way, nothing for me to pursue. No, the best course of action seemed to be to find out what I could about Professor Headly and hope some motives would present themselves. Then I could begin looking for opportunities. The best place to start with both was among his colleagues. With something resembling a plan in mind, I started for the college offices.
When I got to the campus, I found two constables had been stationed outside of the Classics building. One was Constable Lipson. He must have traveled down with Inspector Burrows and be staying on to help. That was the place to start.
The constable I didn’t know moved to block my way as I approached. Constable Lipson noticed. “So you’re still down here, eh? It’s all right. He’ll be expecting her.”
The second constable went back to his side of the door.
I paused by Constable Lipson. “Do you know why he called me?”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you himself.”
“He wasn’t very clear.”
“Then maybe he can’t be.”
So I was probably right. “Thanks anyway. Is he at the crime scene?”
“Not at the moment. You’re not saying you’re poking around there, are you?”
“I didn’t say a word. Just wondering where he was.”
“So you could answer his questions, I'm sure.”
“Isn't that what a well-behaved suspect would do?”
Constable Lipson smiled but seemed to think that was enough to absolve him of all guilt if I should start poking around in things that didn't concern me, or more properly that no one cared to acknowledge did concern me, and stepped aside so I could enter the building.
Despite the guard on the door, there didn't seem to be much inside the building to suggest that there had been a murder committed here. The offices were still bustling with students and assistants trying to meet with each other, and I could hear a hum of voices from one of the lecture halls. So clearly there should be no objection to me wandering around. Now that I was certain I didn't need to be concerned that my presence would upset the investigation, the question was where to begin?
The Classics office seemed logical. I climbed the stairs to their floor and entered. Miss Fenchurch was at her desk, and I smiled in greeting. Once she realized I wasn’t going to try to re-start our earlier conversation in this less private place, she nodded back. I wandered past her desk and into the office area hallway. Most of the doors were closed, but the one at the start of the hall was open, revealing an office slightly larger than the others I’d seen but with four desks crammed into it, meaning there was almost no space for the visitors’ chairs across from them, let alone the visitors themselves. The assistants’ office, I assumed. One desk was clearly being used to store whatever junk piled up on it; I deduced that would have been used by Professor Headly’s assistant if he’d had one. I guessed the desk with the least on it belonged to Mr. Langley, as he seemed to do most of his work either at home or in Professor Brookwald’s office. That left the two closest to the small window. The one on the left clearly belonged to Mr. Redmond, as he was sitting there poring over something which looked like a diagram similar to those I’d seen Mrs. Albright’s nephew studying at the beginning of the cricket season.
“Good afternoon,” I said to announce my presence.
Mr. Redmond bounced a bit in his chair, clearly startled. It seemed the entire student staff of the department was unusually jumpy, unless that was a side effect of having a murder in their midst. “Miss Pengear, right?”
“That’s right.” When he didn’t offer me one of the chairs, I sat in the one closest to his desk. “I just wanted to see if you had any insights into this terrible business.”
He shoved his cricket diagrams under a folder. “No, no. It is dreadful, though. I’m not sure what you think I might know?”
I smiled and tried to distract him with an answer while I looked at the papers he’d revealed beneath the cricket diagrams. “Professor Headly telephoned me the night he died, but I didn’t speak to him. I was hoping someone could tell me what the call had been about. Since he didn’t have an assistant, I was just wondering if anyone knew why.” The papers appeared to be an essay of some sort, handwritten, and already marked with comments and a grade. The paper was starting to yellow, giving me the impression that this was not his work or the work of any student in the past few years.
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t know anything about it.” Mr. Redmond noticed the papers and pulled a folder over them so quickly it dislodged a stack from his desk and sent it spilling over everything. “Idiotic tinkering students. If they wouldn’t leave their papers lying around everywhere, and then Professor Graham expects me to track them down and return them on top of everything else.”
Half the papers were clearly not tinkering notes, but I ignored the outburst anyway. “Thank you for your time. If you hear anything....”
“Of course. I’m sure you’d like to find out what he wanted and get back to—wherever you came from.”
As I left the office, I wondered what he was doing with an outdated essay. The only ideas that came to mind revolved around plagiarism and cheating. If Professor Headly had known, it could have been a motive. Although how to find out if he’d known seemed to be a problem neither Inspector Burrows nor I could deal with without the man himself. So where to go next? The best place to start looking for motives seemed to be the scene of the original crime. Inspector Burrows had already shown it to me, so I didn’t think there would be any reason I shouldn’t go back. After all, I knew how to handle myself around a crime scene and wouldn’t contaminate anything or confuse any evidence.
The first thing I noticed when I approached Professor Headly’s office was that there was nothing distinguishing the crime scene from the other offices there. Nothing barring the way in or even anyone keeping an eye on the door. That seemed unusual, but Inspector Burrows had been here for a little while, so perhaps he had simply finished with it. That certainly made it easier for me. It also meant I was scared out of my wits when the door swung open. I half expected to see the ghost of Professor Headly walk out, although as I had never met the man in person, I would only know it was him if the head wound matched what had been described to me, and I sincerely hoped I wouldn't have to see that. Of course, the logical answer would have been that Inspector Burrows was having another poke around, but that wasn't the case either. It was Mr. Langley I saw leaving the victim’s office. He hesitated when he saw me. “Miss Pengear, how nice to see you. I was just getting some files for Professor Brookwald. He may be taking over Professor Headly’s classes, you see.”
“Of course. That’s very kind of him. I was on my way to see Inspector Burrows.” It seemed a harmless enough half-truth to put him at ease.
“I believe I heard he was interviewing people in the staff lounge, trying to re-create Headly’s last day, I suppose.”
“I wouldn't want to disturb him, then.”
“Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea while you wait for him to finish?”
I suspected Mr. Langley was trying to get me away from the office, but it was a chance to talk with him, so I said, “That would be lovely.”
~*~*~
I waited until Mr. Langley and I were settled into Professor Brookwald's office and the tea had been prepared to begin speaking. I took a bite out of the offered scone, which seemed to be a safe topic to begin with. “These are very good.”
“Wilman's Bakery, just off the square. But you didn't come to ask about the baked goods, did you?”
I smiled. “I suppose not.” I fumbled for another topic. I didn’t think “Why were you at the crime scene” seemed like a good starting point. I tried, “So, how did you become Professor Brookwald’s assistant?”
Mr. Langley smiled. “You’re either wondering how we met or why I haven’t gone on to become a full professor myself.”
I shrugged. Both were true, but I wasn’t sure which one would get me the better answer.
Mr. Langley pushed the plate of scones across to me. “You were expecting someone younger. They always expect someone younger. The others still call me his student assistant. Most of the older staff really do think of me that way. I was a third year student his first year teaching here. It seemed like he was so much older than me then, but it was only four years. He got the chance to go to a dig near Athens, and I had the best scores of any of the students for the exams on Athenian culture, so I got the chance to go with him. We got along very well, and he asked me to be his assistant full time. As he worked in the field so often, he needed someone with more experience than the normal student assistants. After a few years of working together, we realized that were very compatible. And that’s all you really need to know, right?”
“I suppose so.” I would have liked to know quite a lot more, but I had the feeling that all of that fell into the gossip category, not proper investigating. “Is there any jealousy over you holding the position for so long?”
“None whatsoever. Honestly, it has a reputation for being a cursed job. By any standard, I should have moved on by now and become a full professor in my own right or left the world of teaching all together. But I’m happy where I am. I’m fairly certain the other assistants assume there’s something wrong with the position; either it doesn’t have enough prestige, or he’s sabotaging my efforts to move on, I suppose, so no one wants it, even with the field work.”
I was trying to come up with something else to ask when Mr. Langley glanced at the clock. “I don't wish to rush you, but I am supposed to bring some papers to Professor Brookwald's class. Test booklets.”
I suspected he just wanted to be rid of me, but I pretended to believe the excuse. “I wouldn't want the students in suspense about those. Thank you for the tea. I think I'll try to find Wilman's Bakery later.”
Mr. Langley grabbed a stack of what looked like expense sheets from the desk. “It's on the high street. Just turn left. You can't miss it. You can leave the cups. I'll deal with them later.”
Definitely eager to be rid of me. I went into the hall and watched as Mr. Langley locked up and started towards the lecture rooms.
I waited until he had turned the corner, then went back to Professor Headly’s office and pulled the door closed behind me. The lock still functioned, so I slipped the bolt and went to study the desk. So what had he been looking for? Nothing interesting on top; he had to have been looking in the drawers. The first one held general office supplies. I dug through the bits and pieces but didn’t see anything useful. The next drawer held student files. I opened each one and flipped through the papers, but they were all short essays and test papers from earlier in the semester. I slid the drawer closed carefully as the folders scraped along the bottom of the drawer above. Then I went on to the bottom drawer. On top, I found a stack of ungraded papers. Under those, more student files, all equally unhelpful.
I leaned back on my heels. Something was off. I stared at the drawers. That was it. The drawers. They appeared to be the same size, but the upper one could barely hold the files while the lower had room for papers on top. I pulled out the middle drawer and examined the bottom. Just as I’d suspected; a false bottom, this one a narrow second drawer that slid off from the back of the main drawer once that drawer was pulled out of the desk, inaccessible from inside and hidden from the front by the long face of the main drawer. I sat down on the floor and started rifling. The hidden drawer was filled with papers, most in envelopes. I flipped through, trying to determine which one Mr. Langley had been looking for. It wasn’t hard to tell when I’d found it. There was one envelope addressed to Professor Brookwald. That had to be it. I leaned against the desk and pulled out the papers.
Inside it was a letter addressed to Professor Brookwald, calling him “My darling Silas.” I flipped to the back of the second page. “Ever your Robert.” I assumed Mr. Langley was Robert. I turned back to the first page and began reading.
By the time I got to the end of the letter, there was no doubt in my mind that my assumptions about the nature of the relationship between Mr. Langley and Professor Brookwald had been correct. The letter was both romantic and explicit in nature. Clearly useful for blackmail, but was it a motive for murder? I flipped through the other envelopes in the drawer, pulling the contents out of some, but I didn’t see anything that would be as damaging as the one I held in my hand.
Inspector Burrows had to know about this. I most likely had a drawer full of motives. I took Professor Brookwald’s letter and tucked it in my pocket. Inspector Burrows did not need that particular bit of evidence at the moment, and if he didn’t have it, he couldn’t be expected to act on it. I would hint at it and hope that he was able to figure out what I meant.
I pulled the rest of the papers out of the drawer and sat on the floor. Inspector Burrows didn't need to see any of these right this second, but I didn't know how long I could stay in the office without someone trying to come in and finding me, and more importantly, finding the papers. Hopefully, I’d have enough time to find some other equally useful motives. I pulled a notebook and pencil out of my handbag and started taking notes.
After fifteen minutes, I had a list of names and the nature of their blackmail as far as I could determine it. Most of what was in the drawer was too cryptic to be understandable. Things like receipts from a bookstore with numbers instead of titles, check stubs, a planning ledger from a party, a few posted test scores I assumed meant cheating, single pages of longer paper with passages marked that could probably be checked for plagiarism. I put everything else back in the drawer and slipped the list into my handbag with Mr. Langley's letter, then went in search of Inspector Burrows.