Page 29 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
With a smile for Penelope and a tip of his head to Jordan, Barnaby followed.
Together with Penelope, Jordan returned to trawling through the ledgers. It was a thankless chore, for they all seemed to be businesses running along unexceptionable lines, but Jordan accepted that they had to complete their search even if only to convince themselves that there was no clue to be found among the ledgers.
Five minutes later, Gelman looked into the office. “I’m delegated to keep watch here. The inspector has commandeered everyone else to help with their search.” Gelman tipped his head, indicating the other side of the street. “I’ll be just over there, sono one will see me. If anyone arrives and comes inside, I’ll be over in a jiffy.”
Jordan nodded. “Good thinking.”
Penelope inclined her head absentmindedly, and Gelman left.
Silence settled, broken only by theshushas ledgers were pulled out or pushed back onto shelves and the rustle of pages being turned.
Eventually, tired of standing, Jordan collected an armful of account books and settled in the chair behind the desk to go through them. Penelope saw and did the same, stacking a pile of ledgers on the corner of the desk and sinking into the chair facing it.
They worked doggedly on, getting up only to exchange the ledgers they’d checked for a fresh collection.
Jordan had lost all track of time when movement in the front window caught his eye. He looked that way and saw Ruth Cardwell peering into the office. She saw him and hesitated, then her gaze moved on to Penelope, and Ruth froze, then she stepped away from the glass and whisked away.
A minute ticked by, but Ruth didn’t reappear. Jordan returned his gaze to the ledger he’d been perusing. Ruth wouldn’t have noticed Gelman, watching from the other side of the street. After making a mental note to check with his colleague later as to how Ruth’s behavior had appeared to him, Jordan forced his mind back to the task at hand.
Nearly an hour later, Penelope shut the ledger she’d been scanning and heaved a disappointed sigh. “Nothing.” She rose, collected her last stack of ledgers, and returned to the shelves to replace them.
“And absolutely nothing here.” Jordan shut the last ledger in his pile and tossed it onto the desk. “If anything, all that I’ve seenconvinces me that Thomas Cardwell was very careful regarding which clients he took on.”
“Hmm.” Penelope came back to the chair and dropped into it as Jordan rose and returned the last of his ledgers to their places. “I got the same impression. The ledgers are also meticulously kept.”
“That’s Ruth’s doing,” Jordan said.
“Indeed. But as you say,” Penelope went on, “the clients all appear to be rigidly above board, and as I understood things, choosing the clients was Thomas’s domain.”
“True.”
As Jordan returned to the desk, Penelope eyed him, then asked, “In your experience, is that normal? That every client is so transparently doing the right thing?”
Jordan slumped into the chair behind the desk, considered the question, then raised a hand and waggled it. “I would have to say it’s a tad unusual—there’s always some clients who are inclined to test the legal limits—but from all we’ve heard of Thomas, he was a careful and cautious man. Also, he valued his reputation, and so I’m not that surprised to learn that none of his clients appear even the least bit shady.”
“Hmm.” Penelope faintly grimaced. “I’m not sure where that leaves us now.”
Jordan didn’t have an answer and was grateful that Barnaby and Stokes chose that moment to walk in.
Immediately, Penelope stated, “Jordan and I found absolutely nothing illuminating in Cardwell’s ledgers. All his clients appear to be intensely law-abiding.”
Taking in Barnaby’s and Stokes’s expressions, Jordan wasn’t surprised when Barnaby confessed that they, too, had learned nothing useful.
“Only one other sighting,” Stokes reported. “Just past the last one Morgan turned up, but again, nothing at all to identify the man.”
“The washerwoman said he was just another gentleman in that newfangled style of coat and a black top hat.” Barnaby smiled rather tiredly at Penelope. “No word from the lads yet, of course, but they’re spreading the word, so we can live in hope that they’ll turn up something more revealing.”
“A distinct and identifying feature would be nice,” Stokes said, “but given all we’ve heard to this point, I’m not holding my breath.” He looked at the others, who appeared as disappointed as he. “I vote we close up here, go home for the day, and let all we’ve seen, heard, and learned distill overnight, then meet after breakfast at Albemarle Street and plan our next move. All in favor?”
They all held up their hands.
“Shall we say nine o’clock?” Barnaby asked.
Everyone agreed.
Stokes called Walsh inside and directed him to remain on guard overnight, just in case there was anyone with an interest in the contents of Cardwell’s office. “Unlikely, I admit,” Stokes said, “but better we take precautions rather than realize later that we should have.”
Jordan got to his feet. “Just in case there’s something we’ve missed.”
