Page 21 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
She paused to draw breath, then went on, “Lord Child arranged for Scotland Yard to be informed and stayed with me and helped deal with the police when they arrived. The surgeon came and took away the body. His lordship and I were in the office and heard and saw nothing, but the back door was unlocked—”
The thin man snorted. “I reminded Quimby it was supposed to be locked before we left, and he said he had. I should’ve checked. Far as I know, he never did lock it when he came in late, not until he left again.” He paused, then in a quieter tone, added, “He always said it wasn’t important.”
Gravely, Izzy shook her head. “The killer must have come in that way. I wanted to warn you that the police have said they’ll be around later this morning to speak with you all, to learn if Quimby arrived before you left, and if you know of anyone who might have wished him harm.”
From the looks on the staff’s faces and their murmured comments, it was plain they hadn’t known of the murder before this, nor could they imagine why the photographer had been killed.
“One thing,” Izzy said, reclaiming everyone’s attention. “From now on, I would like you all to make sure the back door is kept locked at all times, and during those moments it needs to be open—when you take out the rubbish or get in coal—that there are at least two of you there throughout the period the door is unlocked.” She sighed. “It might be shutting the door after the horse has bolted, but better safe than sorry.”
There were nods of agreement all around.
The stocky man asked, “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but are we planning on running an edition this week?”
Izzy nodded. “I want to run an obituary at the very least, and perhaps a special section on Quimby’s work and what a loss to us he and his talents will be.”
Everyone seemed to think that was appropriate.
“In that case”—the stocky man turned to the others—“we’d best get on with our usual chores.” He cocked a questioning brow at Izzy.
She nodded. “Yes. I think we should keep on as best we can.”
The staff moved off, deeper into the workshop. The thin man paused to pat the young woman, Mary, who looked pale and stunned, awkwardly on the back. He said a few words, to which she nodded, then she went to the counter, and the man moved along the far side of the printing press to where narrow tables set end to end ran down that side of the room.
Izzy watched her staff settle to their tasks, while Gray watched her.
Eventually, she turned and walked toward him. She waved him into the office. “They don’t need us watching over them like mother hens.”
His lips twitched, and he remained lounging in the doorway. “Who are they? Start with the stocky man. If I’m to be hovering for a while, it’ll help to have some names.”
She halted and frowned at him. “Obviously, the exposé will not now go ahead, so there’s no reason for you to linger.”
“Much as it pains me to contradict a lady…” When she huffed, he hid a grin. “I was here when the body was found and during the time of the murder. While the police have thus far focused on you, who’s to say they won’t, at some point, fasten their beady eyes on me?” He arched his brows, daring her to argue. When she merely grimaced, he half smiled and added, “Aside from all else, I’m curious to see in which direction Baines takes his investigation. Telling me who your staff are won’t hurt.”
She stared at him as if debating what was in her and her staff’s best interests, then crossed her arms and swung to face the workshop. “Mary Maguire is my assistant copywriter and also acts as receptionist. The tall, thin man is William Maguire. He’s our senior typesetter and also Mary’s father. The stocky man is the printing works manager, Henry Lipson. It’s he who oversees the running of the press.”
He was tracking each individual as she named them. “Lipson looks strong enough to turn the press by hand.”
“He is and, on occasion, does. Of the younger men, the stockier one with reddish-brown hair is Tom Lipson, Henry’s second son. The other young man working on the boiler is Gerry Horner. He’s specifically responsible for keeping the boiler in perfect condition. The man wearing spectacles and working alongside William at the typesetting tables is Jim Matthews.”
“And the lad?”
“Our printer’s devil, Digby Crew.”
Gray eyed the towheaded youngster, about fifteen years old, skinny and scrawny and all big eyes. Lipson Senior was watching over the lad and keeping them both busy, poking about the huge printing press. “He—your young devil—is the one who’s been working as Quimby’s assistant?”
Izzy nodded. “Quimby was here often enough during work hours, and Digby was always hanging around, asking questions. I think, at first, Quimby took him into the darkroom simply to keep him quiet. Then Quimby realized how useful Digby could be.”
She drew in a breath and, lowering her arms, faced him. “And now, like everyone else, I need to get back to work.”
With an equable smile, he moved out of the doorway.
She shot him a narrow-eyed look and sailed past.
Hiding a smile, he returned to the armchair and relaxed into it.
His real motive in remaining within her orbit was to ensure Baines didn’t opt for the easy course of making her a scapegoat, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say so.
Baines and Littlejohn came through the front door not long after.
