Page 6 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
“Was there anyone else there?” Barnaby asked.
Jordan nodded. “Cardwell’s younger brother, Bobby, was standing over the body, staring down at it and, it seemed, in deep shock. Neither Gelman nor I believe he was the killer—once you meet him, you’ll think the same—and by his account, he arrived only a minute or so before us.”
Stokes paused, then instructed, “Start from the moment you walked into Cardwell’s office. What did you see?”
Jordan dutifully described the scene and what they’d observed and said and heard, all the way to ushering Ruth and Bobby Cardwell out of the office and leaving Gelman on guard before heading to Roscoe to report.
Stokes pulled a small face. “I would have preferred you’d come straight to the Yard, but…as it is, we haven’t wasted much time.”
“And Gelman is on guard,” Barnaby mildly observed.
“Indeed.” Penelope flourished the letter she’d continued to study. “It’s really most vexing of Cardwell to have given no clue at all as to who is behind these nefarious activities or what they are.”
Stokes waggled his fingers, and Barnaby took the letter from Penelope and returned it to Stokes, then Barnaby asked Jordan, “Did you know Cardwell?”
“Not well,” Jordan replied. “We were acquainted through having to negotiate the contract for supplying linen to Roscoe’s clubs. Cardwell was the agent for the linen suppliers.”
“So,” Stokes observed, “not a deep or close acquaintance.”
“But”—Penelope fixed her dark gaze on Jordan’s face—“you would have formed an opinion about Cardwell, at least as far as his duties as an agent went. So what did you think of him?”
Looking down at his clasped hands, Jordan took a moment to review his memories, then offered, “He struck me as honest and hardworking. Upright, with a decent backbone and a clear sense of right and wrong. He kept excellent records and, I feel, would always—rigidly so—do the very best he could for his clients.” He met Penelope’s gaze. “That’s how he appeared to me, but I only interacted with him on three occasions.”
“Well”—Stokes waved the refolded letter before tucking it into his notebook—“he clearly understood where the line between right and wrong lay with whatever it is he uncovered.”
Penelope was frowning. “You said that when the sister—Ruth—came into the office, she was carrying a stack of ledgers.” When Jordan nodded, Penelope asked, “Why did she arrive just then? And why was she ferrying Cardwell’s ledgers?”
Jordan raised his brows and admitted, “I don’t know the answer to either question.”
“Obviously,” Stokes said, tucking away his notebook, “our first act must be to go to Cardwell’s office and get an update there. I’ve sent down my team to take charge, and by the time we get there, with any luck, the medical examiner will have arrived as well.”
“As I mentioned, I left Gelman on guard.” Jordan rose as Stokes got to his feet. “We didn’t want to disturb the body or anything else by hunting around for the key.”
“Good.” Stokes eyed Jordan. “Am I right in thinking you’ve been told to stay with us?”
Jordan smiled. “Given the boss was the one Cardwell appealed to for help, he now feels he has an iron in this fire.”
Stokes inclined his head. “No saying but that you and your boss’s resources won’t come in handy.”
Jordan’s smile deepened. “That’s what he said you would say.”
Stokes huffed and looked at Barnaby and Penelope. “Well, then, we’d best be moving. Let’s go.”
Stokes turned and led the way out, and the other three readily followed.
With Barnaby at her heels, Penelope followed Jordan and Stokes into Thomas Cardwell’s office on Broad Street. She didn’t know the area well, but the location was considered highly respectable, being quite close to—within easy walking distance of—the Bank of England and all the financial offices that clustered around that edifice.
After crossing the threshold, Penelope stepped away from the door and paused beside the round table situated to make the best of the light that shafted through the large bow window. Blocking out the activity occurring about the large desk at the rear of the room, she scanned the space, hoping to get some sense of the deceased from his chosen surroundings.
She took in the books and ledgers, neatly set upon the shelves and obviously in good order. There was nothing ramshackle about the place, and as she trailed the others as they approached the desk, she noted that the general tidiness extended to the desk’s surface, where an ink set was placed above a pristine blotter in the perfect position for effective use. There was no dust anywhere, and the furnishings were in good condition.
All in all, Cardwell’s office reflected a personality much as Jordan had described—an honest man with a deep sense of integrity and a devotion to doing the right thing by his fellow man.
Inwardly, Penelope acknowledged the unfairness inherent in it being a man of Cardwell’s character who had been slain.
Then she blinked and focused her attention on the short, rotund man crouched over the body.
Having rounded the desk and seen the man, Stokes grunted and said, “Findlay—despite the circumstances, I’m glad to see you’re on the case.”
