Wouldn't It Be Deadly (30 page)

With all the pipe and tobacco smoke wafting about the theater, Higgins could barely make out the simpering blond girl on the screen. However, he could discern the caption cards that flashed before them. The film portrayed a romance between an English lord and a vicar's daughter. He desperately wished for the return of the newsreel and more footage of the Human Fly. Higgins sat back with a groan nearly as loud as the pounding piano music.

“Oh, don't take on so,” Eliza said. “The main feature never lasts more than twenty minutes. That leaves us plenty of time to get to Hepburn House.”

“Seems like we've already been here for days.” He crossed his arms, resigned to suffering through the romance of two absurdly costumed fools as best he could.

After a few minutes, Eliza whispered, “I wish I'd thought to bring the Major.”

“Don't you mean ‘Aubrey'?” Higgins said sarcastically.

“I think he might have enjoyed
Nan of Northumberland,
seeing as how he's from there himself.”

“Are you mad? Redstone's not from Northumberland.”

“Of course he is.”

“Shhhhh,” a voice hissed from the row behind them.

He sighed. “Eliza, you may be able to mimic any accent in England, but you still can't place a person's speech outside Whitechapel.”

She turned to face him. “But he said that he was from Northumberland. Corbridge, in fact, east of Hexham. You must be mistaken.”

Higgins raised an imperious eyebrow at her. “Don't insult me. I am never mistaken about a person's speech. The man's from Lancashire. The southeast part of the county.”

“Please keep your voices down,” someone whispered.

“Why would he lie about something like that?” Eliza asked.

“Maybe he thought it more poetic to hail from Northumberland rather than the mill towns of Rossendale.”

“Rossendale? But that's the dedication in the book.”

“What book?”

“Be quiet,” the voice hissed again.

“Don't you remember? The book of poems titled
The White Rose
by that anonymous chap I wanted to give the Major. The book someone nicked from my classroom. It's dedicated inside to the White Rose of Rossendale. This doesn't make any sense at all.”

Higgins pointed at the screen. “Neither does this film.”

“You're not listening to me. If the Major is from Rossendale, how could he not mention it when—”

“Will the two of you stop talking!” A matron in the row behind them grabbed onto the back of Eliza's seat and thrust her forward. “One more word and I'll have the attendant throw both of you out of the theater.”

“Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. We're leaving.” Eliza stood. “Come on, Professor.”

He scrambled to his feet. “But the vicar's daughter hasn't even gotten her hand kissed yet. We ought to see that at least.”

“You must be quiet,” the woman said, her hat feathers trembling with anger.

“Crikey, why do we have to be quiet?” Eliza shot back. “It's a blooming silent film, or ain't you noticed!”

*   *   *

“I believe this creature is called a cockatoo.” Higgins stared at the large crested bird grooming its feathers on the other side of the cage bars. “Pick would know. The Colonel spent two years in the Malay Peninsula. I can see why Lady Gresham bought the bird, too. It looks rather like her: white, haughty, and living in a most expensive cage.”

“Most people would be happy as a Bolton brewer to be living in a cage such as this.” Eliza paced about the drawing room.

This was the same room Eliza had accidentally walked into the day of the garden party at Hepburn House. She'd thought it grand then, but now that she and Higgins had been kept waiting for over thirty minutes, she realized the parlor was as intimidating as Westminster Abbey.

“I wonder if I could teach this bird to talk?” Higgins laughed. “Can you say anything, Lord Cockatoo? Has anyone taught you to say you'd like a biscuit? You know, it might be amusing to teach you to speak like a person from Bristol. That's where your Lady Gresham was born, though she pretends to hail from Hampshire. Imagine if she heard you talking in an accent she'd spent decades trying to forget.”

“How can you bother about that parrot when we've just discovered Major Redstone is a liar?” Eliza said.

Higgins shrugged. “In my experience, everyone is lying about one thing or another. It's far more amazing to learn a person has been honest.”

“But why should the Major lie about where he was born? What difference does it make if he came from Lancashire?”

“Apparently it matters to him.” Higgins sat down in a nearby chair. “A pity he made that claim about being from Northumberland when I wasn't there. I would have enjoyed pointing out his east Lancashire vowels and flat consonants.”

“I think it's right dodgy behavior. Here I am, going on about this lovely little book of poems from a fellow what lived in his own hometown, and he doesn't say a word about it.” She paused. “What if he wrote the poems?”

“That I can believe. I'm sure the poems were all treacle and tripe, something I can see the rhyme-loving Major wallowing in.”

“Let's say Redstone wrote these poems, and he wanted to keep it secret for some reason. When he learned I had the book in my classroom, he broke in and stole it.”

“Seems a tad melodramatic, even for him.”

Eliza ignored that. “Now why would he keep it a secret? It must have something to do with Nepommuck.”

“Why?”

“Because Nepommuck gave me the book to use for my lessons. Maybe Nepommuck knew the Major had written the poems.”

“Writing poems, even bad ones, is not a crime.”

She thought a moment. “What if Nepommuck knew something about the poet, something that person wanted to keep secret?”

“I thought you introduced Major Redstone to Nepommuck at the Marchioness's garden party. Did either of them have an odd reaction to seeing each other there?”

“No, but they could have been
pretending
they were strangers. As Shakespeare wrote, ‘Though this be madness, yet there is method in it.'”

Higgins sighed. “I want to find the murderer as much as you do, Eliza, but linking Redstone and Nepommuck is a bit of a stretch. The Major has been living in India for the past fifteen years. When would his path have crossed with the Hungarian?”

Eliza had no answer to that.

“Although I am amused you are so ready to view Redstone as a murderer,” Higgins went on. “You seemed to find him a most congenial fellow.”

“‘That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain,'” she said.

“If you quote
Hamlet
one more time, I'm going to resume my conversation with the cockatoo.”

A sonorous bell chimed through the house. A moment later, Harrison the butler strode past the parlor entrance.

“I hope that's Lady Gresham,” Higgins said. “She clearly doesn't seem to be at home.”

Instead the butler entered the parlor with Jack Shaw. Eliza ran to her cousin and gave him a quick hug. He hugged her back with affection.

“Jack, what are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same, Lizzie. Lady Gresham sent for me.”

“She sent for us as well,” Higgins said from his chair. “With luck, someone will send for her. We've been waiting without even a pot of tea to keep up our strength.”

Harrison sniffed. “Her Ladyship shall be down shortly. The tea will follow.”

Once the butler left, Eliza led Jack to a divan and pulled him down beside her. “It appears Major Redstone is a liar. And there may be a connection between him and Nepommuck.”

Jack placed his derby on the divan beside him. “And what has Redstone lied about?”

“On the day of the murder, you came back with me to Wimpole Street after my interrogation at Scotland Yard. At dinner, you asked the Major if he had any reason to be blackmailed by Nepommuck.”

“I remember. He said that a Northumberland accent was nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Exactly. A pity the Professor wasn't there, because he would have told everyone Redstone comes from Lancashire, not Northumberland.”

“Rossendale, to be exact,” Higgins added. “His use of flat vowels is characteristic of the region.”

“And there's more than that to raise our suspicion.” Eliza explained about the book of poems, and how it was stolen from her classroom.

Jack seemed more impressed by this information than Higgins had been. “You may be on to something, Lizzie. I shall have Major Redstone brought to the Yard today for questioning.”

“You'll have to wait until tomorrow, Inspector,” Higgins said. “Redstone and Pickering are presently at a linguistics symposium in Cardiff. They're scheduled to take the train back tomorrow. Both men are quite keen on being here for Miss Page's debut.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Since I have a ticket as well, it should be no problem to have the Major accompany me to the Yard as soon as the curtain falls.”

“While I'm not a champion of Major Redstone, I have no wish to see yet another man unjustly targeted by Scotland Yard,” Higgins said. “Yes, he lied about where he was born, but I hardly think that automatically makes him a murderer. I hope Redstone can expect better treatment from the police, even if I have not been the recipient of it.”

Jack stood. “See here, you've been treated far better than your flimsy alibi deserves.”

Higgins rose to his feet as well. “Oh, so I seem more guilty than
Mister
Rosalind Page?”

“Don't push me, Higgins. I questioned Miss Page yesterday, as well you know. And yes, Page has an alibi even worse than yours, along with a far more compelling motive. Then again, so does Nottingham. Or did you think I wouldn't discover his criminal past, or what his plans were for working at the bank?” He turned a disapproving eye on Eliza. “You could have trusted me with that information, Lizzie. Instead you protected a known thief.”

Eliza squirmed with embarrassment.

He shook his head. “I sent the pair of you off to try to discover if anyone could verify the Professor's alibi. Instead you both went chasing off after Nepommuck's pupils. Not only do you interrogate them as if you were police constables, you didn't relay any pertinent information back to me. You chose not to tell me about Nottingham. Then Higgins here went to question Kollas. I never learned what became of that interview. And now that Kollas has done a runner, it seems no one will know why he hated Nepommuck so much.”

“Kollas is gone?” Eliza asked.

“Kollas packed his things and left London two days ago. Don't know where he went, but I suspect he's fled the country.”

With a heavy sigh, Higgins quickly told Jack about Kollas's past. He related everything from the morphine he'd given his dying father back in America to the charade he'd concocted with Nepommuck about pretending to be both a Greek diplomat and the son of a watchmaker from Clerkenwell.

“I regret withholding the information,” Higgins said when he was through. “But I didn't see any need to expose the fellow when he had a perfectly good alibi for the time of the murder.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, even more exasperated.

“Kollas told the Professor that on the morning of the murder, one of the law clerks downstairs came up to the second floor to get him to stop pounding on Nepommuck's door,” Eliza said. “Then he escorted Kollas out of the building. Since there was no dead body lying in the hallway when the clerk went up there, how could Kollas have killed Nepommuck?”

“Are the two of you completely mad? Do you think police work consists of questioning a murder suspect and then believing anything he tells you? You have to check out the blooming alibi to see if there's any truth to it!”

“Was there any truth to it?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course not. Yes, the law clerk heard Kollas pounding and yelling up there. He was about to climb the stairs to get Kollas when he met the fellow on his way down. The law clerk never got to the second floor. It is quite possible Kollas stabbed Nepommuck just two minutes earlier.”

Eliza and Higgins looked at each other. “Bloody hell!” they said in unison.

“Yes, bloody hell.” Her cousin flung himself back down on the divan. “This is what I get for letting amateurs meddle in a murder case. I wouldn't be surprised if I lose my job when the Commissioner gets a full report.”

“I feel like a complete idiot,” Higgins muttered.

“Imagine how I feel,” Jack said.

Eliza took to pacing again. Agitated, she tugged at her string of pearls. “It might be a good thing for the Professor, though. I mean, now we have at least three solid suspects. Four, if we include Redstone. And since the Professor is not the only suspect, there's no reason for him to be arrested in two days.”

“Don't be too sure of that, Lizzie. The Commissioner wants this case wrapped up by the end of the week. Lady Gresham and her friends are putting enormous pressure on him. And they've settled on Higgins as the culprit. It was that blasted newspaper article you're responsible for, Professor. They believe it's a simple motive, one the public is already familiar with.” He frowned. “Her Ladyship wants this matter brought to a close. Now.”

“Damned toffs,” Eliza muttered. “Who do they think they are?”

Suddenly the ornate parlor seemed like a mausoleum. She needed some fresh air. When Eliza stepped into the corridor, she saw Harrison and Lady Gresham by the grand staircase. They took no notice of her, however; the pair were kissing with an alarming display of passion.

Eliza rushed back into the parlor. “You won't believe what I just seen. Her Ladyship and the butler are all over each other like two cats in heat.”

“What?” Higgins said.