Page 66 of A Ruse of Shadows
“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said. “And thank you, Inspector, for the trust you have placed in me. Now may I have a word with you before I leave?”
Treadles thought she would impart some wisdom concerning the murder at hand, but she said only, when they were out of the hearing range of others, “I would recommend that you take your time with this case, Inspector, and not return to London too soon.”
Twenty-two
The interrogation
“Mrs. Claiborne? Yes, we did find her,” said Miss Charlotte Holmes, “thanks to Inspector Treadles.”
His own name sounded like a cannon shot in Treadles’s ear. A spate of cannon shots.
“I met with Mrs. Claiborne once and then couldn’t locate her again,” continued Miss Holmes. “Since her protector, Mr. Underwood, was missing, it made sense to check with the police about her. So I asked Inspector Treadles whether he had come across any cases with victims that matched her description.
“It so happened that at that moment Inspector Treadles was on his way to the railway station to investigate a murder near a village called Feynham, outside Sittingbourne. He had read the summary sent in by the local constabulary and knew that though the victim called herself Mrs. Overhill, the laundry tag on her dress named her as a Claiborne.”
Treadles tried not to breathe too audibly, when he wanted to collapse to the floor, clutching at his chest in relief. Thank goodness he had confessed the matter as soon as he’d met with Chief Inspector Talbot today.
Still, the retired officer’s glance in his direction felt like a showerof needles. “When was that, Inspector?” asked the chief inspector, when he knew the answer very well.
“Four days ago, sir,” answered Treadles. Did his voice squeak?
Three days ago, after they’d inspected Mrs. Claiborne’s body, Miss Holmes had advised him to remain longer in Kent, if he could. She had given no reason, but he had taken her counsel to heart and dragged out the investigation.
The dredging of the fishpond he had ordered yesterday had produced Mrs. Claiborne’s valise, much to the admiration of the local constables. Even if that discovery put him no closer to solving the murder, his prolonged stay in Kent meant that he did not have anything to do with Charlotte Holmes immediately before she became a murder suspect.
Was that why she had advised him to do so?
Chief Inspector Talbot regarded Treadles another moment, then turned his attention back to their main suspect. “Miss Holmes, three days ago, you went to see Lord Bancroft.”
“That is correct. I informed him that Mrs. Claiborne was dead.”
“And what was his reaction?”
“He did not particularly care.”
“Why did you not simply send a note, Miss Holmes? Surely an investigator of your caliber must have known that the news would not have mattered greatly to Lord Bancroft.”
Treadles would have squirmed, but Miss Holmes remained perfectly still. “It seemed the courteous thing to do at the time.”
“The day before that, the logs at Ravensmere recorded another visit by you. What was the reason forthatvisit?”
“To keep his lordship abreast on my investigation.”
“According to you, you never unearthed anything significant concerning Mr. Underwood’s whereabouts. Such a nullity of success required a trip in person to present to Lord Bancroft?”
It did look questionable, so many visits against her insistence that she had managed to do very little for Lord Bancroft.
“When no results can be shown,” said Miss Holmes gravely, “itbecomes even more important to let the client know that every effort has been expended.”
She would have made a terrific charlatan, the thought occurred to Treadles.
Chief Inspector Talbot was apparently impervious to charlatans. “Miss Holmes, all those trips to see Lord Bancroft for no reason, were you in fact there to study the configuration of Ravensmere?”
“Should I take any interest in that?”
“If you wish to better break him out of that prison.”
“And why should I do that, I who am no friend of his?”
