Page 28 of A Measure of Menace

So, he had been following me.

“Because something bothered me.” I knew I was unwise to tell him exactly what I’d discovered, but my curiosity about whether I was right was too strong. Besides, I heard Mrs. Williams downstairs, humming in her kitchen, and any scream from me would alert her and all the other lodgers in this house.

“What was that?” he asked.

Did I imagine menace in his eyes? Or only friendly helpfulness? I could be wrong, after all.

“How you were so quick on the scene when Mr. Mobley was found.” I took a step toward the window, where I’d left my basket on the table. I lifted it, heavy with my shopping. I’d found some particularly fine potatoes. “I spoke to Mr. Ogden, who lets the offices next door to Mr. Mobley. He said he found Mobley dead, walked out of the door, and nearly ran into a convenient constable, who happened to work for Sergeant Scott. He did not say a detective constable at the time, but he did today. He described you exactly. Detective constables do not walk a beat, I am given to understand.”

“I happened to be passing along the Strand that morning,” Wallace said easily.

“Or making certain you were near so that you’d be first to investigate. Both so you could clear up any evidence you’d accidentally left behind and to impress Sergeant Scott and Chief Inspector Ferguson with your eagerness and thoroughness.”

Constable Wallace raised his brows. “That is an interesting supposition. How do you know I am not telling you the truth?”

“Because you told us you live in Pimlico,” I stated. “You’d have no need to go anywhere near the Strand on your way into work.”

“Where I walk in the morning is my own business.” Wallace’s affable expression did not waver, but his eyes hardened. “How does it make me a murderer?”

“You can explain to Sergeant Scott where you were,” I said. “I’m certain he would be most interested.”

Constable Wallace’s eyes flickered. I decided to try to make my way out, but he stepped directly in front of me.

“Did Mobley’s neighbor actually see me commit the murder?”

“No,” I had to admit. “Mr. Ogden only arrived in the morning, long after it was done. So you can spare him.”

Wallace studied me closely, as though he did not know what to make of me. “You are adamant. Why on earth should I kill Mobley? I barely knew the man.”

“Not necessarily. Mobley was a moneylender, notorious for his ruinous fees and quite dangerous. Why should he be allowed to continue his business, growing rich from lending to desperate men like Lord Clifford? Or maybe you owed him money yourself?” I doubted this last. Wallace didn’t have the haggard appearance of someone deeply in debt.

“I’d never do business with someone so repellent,” Wallace answered in disgust. “You are right that Mobley’s death is no loss to the world. Filth to be washed down the gutter.”

The deep anger in his voice chilled me, but I plowed on. “You must have persuaded him to meet you on Sunday night, without his ruffians, so they wouldn’t overhear your discussion. Perhaps you made out that you’d be willing to take a bit of his profits to look the other way at his dealings.”

“Now you are imagining things, Mrs. Holloway. I’d never take a bribe from someone like him.” The curl of Wallace’s lip told me this was true.

“But he wasn’t to know that, was he?” I said. “Also, you are ambitious. If you solve this case, you will receive many accolades and move up in the world.” I adjusted my basket. “Sergeant Scott is very careful, but you surged ahead and found a killer for him.”

Now all pretense of friendliness left him. “I worked long and hard to drag myself up from lowest constable on the force to my place as a detective. I don’t come from a police family, and I didn’t have friends at the Yard to recommend me. I moved into my position all by myself, and I do not intend to be brought down by the speculations of a silly woman. Of a cook.”

“I also came to my position in a prominent household by hard work,” I said. “But I never murdered anyone to do it.”

“You will never prove that I killed Mobley,” Constable Wallace stated with derision. “You can’t. Neither can anyone else. Jacoby is swindling scum, and I can place him near the scene of the crime at the time in question. He used Mobley often enough, and I made certain to make my appointment near the same time Jacoby made his. Dougherty will hire an expensive barrister to get him off, but Jacoby will break rocks at Dartmoor. He deserves to go down. It would have been entertaining to watch the Earl of Clifford stutter before the House of Lords and have his reputation destroyed—aristos are parasites on the rest of us—but I couldn’t produce enough evidence against him. I wager Dougherty truly wasn’t at home when Lord Clifford called on him, and he’ll have to dance to prove he wasn’t helping Jacoby murder Mobley.”

“Then you will have to take your chances that Sergeant Scott won’t tumble to your ruse,” I said. “Good afternoon, Constable Wallace.”

I tried to move around him, but wasn’t surprised when he would not let me.

“You will come with me, Mrs. Holloway. We will walk to Scotland Yard and face Sergeant Scott together. I wonder who he’ll be more willing to believe?”

“No, indeed. If I leave with you, you’ll find some quiet turning or empty building in which to knock me on the head, as you did Mr. Mobley. If we stay here, and you try anything, I can shout for the landlady, who will run for a constable. The beat constable on this street is honest—I know him.”

Wallace came at me, and in that second, he became very frightening indeed. His eyes were lit with rage, determination, and a frustration that anyone would have the gall to stand in his way. He raised his club—a long, slender thing of polished wood, like what had killed Mobley. All I could do was dart aside and lift my basket to fend off the blow.

Which never fell. Unlike Mobley, who unluckily had been alone, I had a rescuer. Daniel, who’d been standing in the doorway for the last few minutes, ripped the club from Wallace’s upraised hand and expertly twisted the man off his feet.

Wallace fell heavily but rolled away and sprang up once more. He’d had training, but Daniel had been fighting for his life since he was a wee lad. Daniel delivered an elbow to the chin and then the gut, followed by a few tight punches. Wallace fell again, this time to lie unmoving on the carpet.

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