Page 10 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
Jordan thought about that for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I seriously doubt Hemingways’ Linens would give rise to concerns about nefarious activities. They are simply not that sort of business. They’re family owned and operated and very well run.” He paused, then added, “My only guess as to why Cardwell chose to contact Roscoe is that, as we all know, Roscoe’s reputation is legendary. He’s widely known for running his gambling businesses with an iron fist and insisting every last little part of them is entirely legal. For those like Cardwell, with no real experience of the underworld, Roscoe figures as an authority on how to successfully walk the difficult line between criminality and legality.”
Understanding the point, Penelope added, “They see Roscoe as knowing how to deal with criminals on the one hand and the authorities at all levels on the other.”
Jordan nodded. “Just so.”
Stokes grunted. “All right. That’s a believable explanation. So what’s our next move?”
“It should be noted,” Penelope said, “that courtesy of our observant baker, the window for the time of death has narrowed even further. The baker saw Cardwell and the unknown gentleman go into Cardwell’s office at eight o’clock on the dot.”
Barnaby nodded. “And Jordan and Gelman arrived at eight-thirty to find Cardwell dead.” He looked at Stokes. “Half an hour is a very short period.”
Stokes grunted. “Long enough, apparently.”
Footsteps heralded the return of Stokes’s men and Gelman. They filed into the office, and smiling, Constable Walsh, younger than the other three and plainly eager to prove his worth, saluted and brightly reported, “Found one sighting, sir. A maid tossing slops into the lane at the far end.” He tipped his head toward the north. “Said she saw a gentleman coming up along the lane. According to her, this would be about twenty or so minutes past the hour. She couldn’t be more exact, but she was sure it was before eight-thirty. She said the geezer was just an average gentleman, black top hat and the latest fashionable coat, nothing else to remark about him, but she was surprised to see a gentleman in the lane, so she took note. She said he had his head down and seemed in a hurry.”
Walsh grimaced slightly. “She turned back to her door before he reached her, so she didn’t see any more detail than that.”
Stokes sighed but tipped his head. “Even so, good work. At least we now know in which direction he went.”
Barnaby concluded, “So our murderer met Cardwell on the street, came in through the front door, spent perhaps fifteen minutes in discussion with Cardwell, then killed him and left via the back door and the lane.”
Stokes looked at everyone, then returned his gaze to Barnaby. “He has to be our murderer.”
Penelope stated, “Unless there’s some reason our unknown gentleman left by the rear door, and someone else, unseen by anyone, whipped in and stabbed Cardwell…” She looked around the circle of faces. “I admit I just can’t see that.”
No one else could, either.
Stokes tapped his pencil on his closed notebook, then shoved the book into his pocket. “Right, then. We have what seem to be sightings of our murderer, but sadly, the description we have thus far fits half the gentlemen in town.”
CHAPTER 3
“Regarding the reason Cardwell was murdered,” Barnaby said, “the one real clue we have is the letter he sent to Roscoe.”
Stokes obligingly drew out the letter and read it aloud. He looked at Jordan. “We’ve already discussed why Cardwell might have chosen to appeal to Roscoe, and you feel it’s more to do with Roscoe’s reputation and assumed knowledge about dealing with the authorities rather than because of some specific issue with the one business Cardwell represented that Roscoe has a contract with.”
Jordan nodded. “The more I think of it, the surer I am of that. I truly doubt there’s anything nefarious going on at Hemingways’ Linens.”
Stokes inclined his head. “Be that as it may, we need to check on that business. However, before we start chasing hares, we should call on the Cardwells. I want to meet this younger brother. We need to be sure we’re not overlooking something there. He might not be our unknown man, but Bobby Cardwell might yet know something pertinent about why his brother was killed.”
“Well,” Penelope put in, “we don’t actually know that Bobbydidn’tmeet the unknown man here—whether before or after Thomas was murdered.”
Along with the other two men, Barnaby pondered that scenario and had to admit that his wife was correct. Thinking further along those lines, he suggested, “Could Thomas’s murder, possibly in front of Bobby, have been intended as a warning to Bobby?”
Penelope opened her eyes wide. “At this stage, who can say?”
“Which only underscores our need to interview the Cardwells.” Stokes looked at Jordan. “Did you get the address?”
“Twenty-nine Finsbury Circus,” Jordan supplied. “Ruth Cardwell said the house is just south of East Street.”
“If you’re free,” Penelope said, addressing Jordan, “I think you should come with us to pave our way.”
Jordan smiled fleetingly. “My orders are to do whatever I can to help solve this case, so consider me at your service.”
Stokes dispatched O’Donnell to check that the rear door was bolted, and when the sergeant returned, they left the office and gathered on the pavement outside.
Stokes locked the office door, then turned to Walsh and handed him the key. “I want you to remain on guard here and watch for anyone who might be interested in the contents of Cardwell’s office. It’s also possible we might need to return and retrieve something from inside. Try not to be too obvious—amble up and down the street as if you’re just a bobby on the beat, but keep this place in sight. If anyone turns up to see Cardwell, take their name and direction. I’ll send someone to relieve you later.”
Walsh pocketed the key and saluted. “Right, guv.”
