Page 55 of Where the Heart Leads
But as he’d told them, life was a game; they’d learn the truth of that soon enough.
“Well, now.” He beamed genially upon them once more. “If that’s all, then I’ll hand you over to Wally, and he’ll start you on your lessons.”
As Wally came forward, Grimsby turned to the stairs. “Work hard!” he exhorted the class. “And make me proud to have you here.”
“Yes, Mr. Grimsby.”
This time the chorus was enthusiastic. Chuckling to himself, Grimsby stumped down the stairs.
“So you didn’t see or hear anything last evening—or even during the afternoon?” Penelope wished she could cling to some hope, but the old woman’s shaking gray head was the answer she’d expected.
“Nah.” The woman lived across the narrow passage, two doors down from the rooms Mrs. Carter and Jemmie had occupied. “I had no inkling anything was wrong.” The old woman met Penelope’s eyes. “Jemmie would’ve come and found me if’n he’d needed help. Can’t think why he didn’t—they haven’t been here that long, but me and Maisie Carter got along.”
Penelope summoned a half-smile. “I don’t think Jemmie had a chance to contact anyone. We think he was whisked away by whoever—”
“Whoever put a pillow over Maisie’s face and held it down while she died.” The old woman’s tone spat venom. Again she met Penelope’s eyes. “I heard tell that young man of yours is something to do with the rozzers—not one hisself, of course, but can get them to do things. You get him to make them find out who did this—no need fer any trial, just tip us the wink. We take care of our own around here, we do.”
Penelope didn’t doubt it; even though she couldn’t approve of vigilante action, she fully understood, and shared, the old woman’s anger. She’d met the emotion again and again over the past hour she’d spent questioning the inhabitants of the narrow lane.
“We’re concentrating on finding and rescuing Jemmie—that has to come first. But when we find him, we’ll very likely learn who killed Mrs. Carter.” Eyes locked with the old woman’s, Penelope made a decision; she nodded curtly. “If the police don’t catch him, I’ll send word.”
The old woman’s smile promised retribution. “You do that, dearie, and I can promise we’ll take care of the bastard as he deserves.”
Penelope stepped back from the woman’s doorstep. Looking along the passage, she saw Barnaby talking animatedly to a middle-aged man some way up the lane. Barnaby glanced her way, saw her watching, and beckoned.
Instinct pricking, Penelope started toward him, then she picked up her skirts and hurried. The man Barnaby was speaking with appeared to have stumbled from his bed. He looked tousled and bleary-eyed, but also serious and sober.
Barnaby turned to her as she came up. “Jenks here is a shift worker. He works nights, so he leaves here at three in the afternoon.”
Jenks nodded. “Regular as clockwork, or I miss the bell at the factory.”
“Yesterday,” Barnaby continued, “as he was coming out of his door Jenks saw—just glimpsed—two men going into Mrs. Carter’s house.”
“Knew she wasn’t well, so I thought it were strange.” Jenks’s face fell. “Wish I’d stopped and asked, now, but I thought p’raps they was friends. Jemmie must’a been there, and there weren’t no argy-bargy about them going in.”
Penelope glanced at Barnaby, and saw he was waiting for her to ask the question. She turned to Jenks. “What did they look like?”
“The first one, he was big.” Jenks looked at Penelope. “I’m big, but he was bigger—not the sort I’d want to face in a fight. Hard and mean, he’d be, but he was dressed neat and proper, and didn’t look to be angling to cause any trouble. The second one, well, he was…just your average bloke. Brown hair, ordinary clothes.” Jenks shrugged. “Nothing special about him.”
“Would you know them if you saw them again?” Penelope asked.
“The first one?” Jenks frowned. “Yeah—I’m pretty sure I’d know him. The second…” His brow furrowed. “It’s strange. I saw him for longer than I did the other, but I reckon I could pass him on the street today and not know him.” Jenks met Penelope’s eyes and grimaced. “Sorry. I can’t tell you more.”
“Not at all—you’ve told us more than anyone else. At least now we know there were two men, and one is identifiable.” She smiled. “Thank you. You’ve given us our first real clue.”
Jenks relaxed a fraction more. “Yeah, well, it’s no surprise no one else knows anything. If you were going to do what those two did, the middle of the afternoon would be the time to do it. I doubt there’d be more’n a handful of others in this whole block when I leave for work—everyone’s out and about their business, not home to see anything that might go on.”
Barnaby nodded. “Whoever they were, they knew what they were about.”
Penelope reiterated her thanks. Barnaby added his, then they turned and walked back toward Arnold Circus.
“That’s it.” Barnaby looked along the alley. “I’ve asked everyone down this side. I kept Jenks until last because they told me he’d be asleep.”
“And I’ve asked everyone on the other side, with no luck.” Reaching Mrs. Carter’s door, Penelope halted, looked at it and sighed. “What next?” She met Barnaby’s eyes. “There must be something else we can do—somewhere else, somehow else we can search for a clue.”
He held her gaze for a moment, then raised a brow. “The truth?”
Frowning slightly, she nodded.
