A Spartan Murder Page 5

  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.

  Chapter 5

  I found Inspector Burrows alone in the staff lounge. “Are you busy?”

  He looked up. “I need a break. Did you have something interesting to share?”

  “I just wanted to know if you’d searched the desk in Professor Headly’s office for secret panels.” He opened his mouth to answer, but I held up a hand so he would let me finish speaking. “For example, pulling out the middle desk drawer and checking the bottom for a secret panel that would not be accessible from inside the drawer, only from the back where it slides off.”

  Inspector Burrows smiled a little. “I’ll be certain to check for something along those oddly specific lines. What do you think I will find there?”

  “Blackmail materials.”

  “I see.”

  “You aren't surprised?”

  Inspector Burrows shrugged. “Several of my best suspects went from suspiciously helpful to even more suspiciously silent, so yes, I was expecting something like that.” He pushed himself to his feet. “If I were to send someone now, would they find something connected to Brookwald and Langley?”

  I chose my words carefully. “If you were to look at this moment, no, you would not find anything connected to them.”

  He nodded. “If there had been something there at one point, I would hope that it would still be available to me if the investigation points to them.”

  So I would not be returning it to Professor Brookwald just yet. “Yes, I think it would turn up if we were convinced of their guilt in the murder case.”

  “I knew I could count on your help. What would the nature of such material be, if it were to turn up.”

  “I would think a letter. The sort that could be considered—um—very educational.”

  Inspector Burrows burst out laughing. “I see. And would it work for blackmail?”

  “Yes.”

  “How serious?”

  I considered my answer again. “Hypothetically, if all one had were a letter, would a gross indecency conviction be possible?”

  Inspector Burrows became very serious. “If the letter were—educational enough, I think so, yes.” He went to the door. “I’ll go look into the question of the desk. Remember, we still don’t know who the murderer is.”

  I understood what he meant. “If it’s needed, I’m sure the letter will appear.”

  “See that it does.”

  Now that Inspector Burrows had all the information I did, more or less, I was free to begin investigating it. The only question was where to start. I had a list of names and tentative ideas about the nature of the blackmail. I needed more information on both. I decided to tackle the easier project first. Blackmail by its very nature was a secret, but it should be easy enough to identify the names on my list and find out where they were, or at least where the college thought they were. That would be the job of the Registrar. I glanced at my watch-pin and decided that, if I hurried, I would have enough time to find someone in the office.

  Although I managed arrive at the Registrar's office fifteen minutes before it closed and found a pair of bored assistants discussing the annoyances of having to deal with the Economics Department, both of whom were happy to have something job-related to do that prevented them from fulfilling whatever request had been made by the Economics Department, the visit to the Registrar's office was not as helpful in narrowing down the suspect list as I'd hoped. They had looked up all the names in their files and given me what basic information they were allowed to, so I now knew who on my list had graduated, who had been sent down for various unknown reasons, and who was still at school, but as I sat down in the tea shop at one of the more isolated tables in the back to order dinner and consider the list, I realized it didn't help nearly as m
uch as I'd hoped.

  I could begin by ruling out the students who had graduated without any trouble, at least those who I suspected were blackmailed with minor cheating offenses, or could I? What if they were now in a position of some trust, even a small one in a family business, wouldn't they be even more determined to keep their youthful follies a secret? The minor thefts had the same problem; just because they were unlikely to be prosecuted didn't mean that there wasn't some personal reason for keeping them a secret, and in some ways the personal was a far more likely reason to kill. Besides, they were the ones most likely to have money worth blackmailing for.

  I started on my fish and chips and looked at the lists again. There were at least five former students who had emigrated. They could be ruled out. It was certainly possible that they had returned, but that was the sort of information Inspector Burrows had access to. I highly doubted immigration would hand the details over to me no matter how nicely I asked. While those who had graduated were still viable suspects, I'd have an easier time looking into the ones still in town. I ordered a slice of walnut cake and considered how to start.

  I hadn’t come up with any answers by the time I’d finished my dessert. I sat on the bed in my rented room and looked over the list again, hoping to find something to point away from Professor Brookwald. Most of the blackmail seemed to be about cheating. I supposed that was logical considering the location, but it hardly seemed useful to as a motive. Most of the cases weren't even cheating on exams. At least half were bits of term papers I assumed were either cribbed from other sources or written by other students. That hardly seemed like a motive for murder.

  But none of the blackmail materials seemed particularly criminal. There were five cases of theft, but none of them seemed to amount to more than petty shoplifting. There was a slip from a restaurant signed for by a Mr. Carrington with Miss Fenchurch's name scribbled on it in Professor Headly's hand. Perhaps Mr. Carrington was married, that was worth hiding, but still, the only really actionable crime seemed to be the one in the letter Mr. Langley had been looking for. Most of the others didn’t even seemed worth the effort to blackmail the victims.

  I tucked the list back into my handbag and got ready for bed. Maybe one of the crimes that seemed small had consequences. The cheaters could have been threatened with expulsion, especially if that wasn't the first offense. Same with the petty thieves. Or there might have been consequences from relatives, particularly rich ones. Maybe consequences that Professor Headly hadn't known about. Of course, the question was how to find out what those consequences could be. I wondered if Miss Fenchurch would know, and if she considered me enough of a friend to share that kind of information. Of course, he had something on her, so she could be a good suspect as well. I was crawling under the covers when I remembered Mr. McAvery. He might know if anyone had been sent down for cheating recently, and what the likely consequences were for all of the petty crimes, really. And maybe even the gossip, or who would know the gossip. All the information Inspector Burrows wouldn't find on his own. And I hadn't seen anything on him in the drawer. Whatever secrets he had, I was certain he was good at keeping them. It was worth a try, anyway.

  When I woke up the next morning, I could smell the tea from downstairs at a ridiculously early hour. It was a very welcoming smell, particularly since it meant I wouldn’t have to fumble around to fix something to eat myself. After I’d fumbled through my luggage looking for something to wear and managed to get all of the pieces in the right places, I made my way downstairs.

  Mrs. Eggleston was waiting for my by the door to the guest house dining room. “Good morning, Miss Pengear. We were sorry to miss you at dinner, but your included breakfast is right through there.”

  I glanced through the door and saw what looked like two sleepy old aunties eating burnt toast and rubbery eggs, which appeared to be the only offerings on the table. At first I thought the quality—or lack thereof—of the included breakfast might be intentional as it was included, particularly with the shop next door and all, then I smelled the scones from the tea shop and didn’t particularly care. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll have something from the tea shop.”

  “Oh yes, you Americans do like something sweet in the mornings, don’t you?”

  I’d never heard that particular stereotype before, but I smiled and nodded as if it were common knowledge.

  “Certainly. It won’t be included, of course, but go right on through. Maisie will find you a table.”

  Maisie proved to be the same girl who had shown me to a table the night before. She glanced at the stairs I had come down and seemed to understand why I was there. I ordered pancakes with strawberries; then, remembering that Mrs. Eggleston assumed I’d gone to the shop for something sweet, I ordered a piece of cake with my pot of tea.

  I sipped my tea and looked at my list. There was one omission I was sorry to see, nothing related to Professor Graham or even the cricket team itself, at least as far as I could tell from what I’d been able to glean from the cryptic clues. There were notes on several members of the team, however, mostly related to cheating. Perhaps Professor Headly had a second cache of items somewhere, the things of severity equal to what he had on Professor Brookwald and Mr. Langley. I considered asking Inspector Burrows, but I knew he would chastise me for not being objective and wanting to find something, and since I did, it would have been justified. I hadn’t seen anything strange about the cricket team while I’d observed them, except for the fact that the notes had gone missing. Come to think of it, it was a bit odd that Mr. Kendall would have had the notes and not Professor Graham. Perhaps he checked the field after the game as part of his job? I sighed. Maybe another trip to the cricket field or pitch or whatever they called it was in order, while they were practicing perhaps. Then I could see who did what after the game.

  There didn’t seem to be anything more I could figure out by sitting here looking at my list. I scraped the rest of the cake from my plate and thought about my options. Inspector Burrows wasn’t in the mood to help me beyond allowing me to look into Professor Brookwald and Mr. Langley, but maybe Inspector Crawley would have some insight into the names on my list. Or maybe I would be lucky and someone would have reported a crime connected to one of them, and I would know what the blackmail was about. It was more than I was doing now, anyway. I swallowed the last of my tea and signed the check to have it charged to my room.

  Before I left, I went back to my room and took out the list of blackmail suspects. I took out a fresh sheet of paper from the desk and copied the names with plenty of space for notes between each. It didn’t seem right at all to show people a list which contained everyone’s blackmail secrets even if they were only my cryptic notes. In fact, when I’d finished the copy, I started to look around the room for a place to hide the original. I considered locking it in my suitcase, but that seemed like the first place someone would look. And I didn’t want to trust my handbag in case it was stolen. I finally took the temporary step of slipping it into my shoe. Mr. McAvery seemed to know everyone. He was my best starting point.

  ~*~*~

  Mr. McAvery looked as if he'd been awake and at his post for hours when I entered his office. He glanced up when he heard my footsteps and smiled. “Good morning, Miss Pengear. Did you decide on your accommodations?”

  “I did. I’m staying at Mrs. Eggleston’s.”

  “A very good choice. I hope you’re comfortable? Good, good. I realized after you left that I forgot to warn you, you didn’t try her breakfast, did you?”

  “No, I managed to get a look at it before I’d committed myself.”

  “Quite right. If you eat in the tea shop you should be fine. She has Mrs. Gilbert to cook for her there. But she tries to do the guest house herself, and unless you wish to be very kind to our Inspector Crawley and give him a poisoning of his own to investigate, I would recommend avoiding the dining room. If you frequent the tea shop, she shouldn’t be offended at all.”

  “She seems convinced
Americans like sweet things.”

  “That should help you, then. Just order plenty of dessert. She knows she can’t do dessert. Now, was there something else I could help you with?”

  I slid my list across the counter. “Can you tell me anything about these people?”

  Mr. McAvery took the list from me. “Quite a diverse group. I assume this is related to the case? So you’re looking for any connections between them and Professor Headly.”

  “Or anything about them at all. Right now it’s just a list of names to me.”

  Mr. McAvery nodded and picked up his pencil. “Well, I can tell you who is a student and who is a professor for most of these, and what college they’re in. That will be a start.”

  I could see he was scribbling not only student or professor, but class year, subject area, and last known location. When he'd finished he slid the list back. “Not as helpful as it could be, but it’s a start.”

  I wasn't sure how it could be more helpful, but I thanked him.

  “Now, Inspector Crawley would know if there was anything criminal about these people. Whether he would be at liberty to say would be another matter.”

  “But worth a try. Thank you.” I seemed to have fallen into the same trap of underestimating Inspector Crawley as Inspector Burrows. At least I had recognized it, though. “I believe I'll start there.”

  ~*~*~

  I found Inspector Crawley in the front room of the police station, looking at something that had come in on the telegraph machine. The way he dropped it on the desk told me it was something for Inspector Burrows. He looked up when he heard me cross the room.