Page 74 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
The instant Keeble turned the square’s corner, Stan, the barman, swung to face Stokes and O’Donnell. “That was him. The gent as just walked away was the man who hired a hack from me last Monday night.”
Lottie nodded. “It was definitely him as was watching Mr. Chesterton that evening.”
“Thank you.” Stokes exchanged a look with O’Donnell and Morgan, then returned his gaze to Stan and Lottie. “Would you be willing to testify to that—that he’s the man you saw on Monday night at the Fox—in court?”
Barnaby wasn’t surprised when both barman and barmaid looked alarmed and hurriedly disclaimed any willingness to appear before a judge.
Stan shook his head. “Won’t do me business any good were that to come out—and it always does, doesn’t it? Once that happens, people will wonder if I’m keeping tabs on them, and they won’t come in.”
Looking rather frightened, Lottie was nodding in adamant agreement.
Stokes regarded both, not without sympathy, then asked, “Instead of appearing in court, would you be willing to sign a statement saying that you believe the man you just saw, who we know to be Mr. Earnest Keeble, is the gentleman who came to the Fox last Monday evening, watched Mr. Chesterton, and then when Chesterton left, Keeble hired a hack and, apparently, followed Chesterton?”
Stan and Lottie exchanged a long look, then Stan asked Stokes, “Will the statements be read out in court along with our names?”
Barnaby sensed Stokes stifle a sigh, then Stokes said, “I’ll give you my word that your statements won’t go anywhere outside Scotland Yard. They won’t be tendered to any court or seen by any judge. Just the Commissioner of Police.”
Again, Stan and Lottie communicated wordlessly, then Lottie asked Stokes and Barnaby, “This geezer—Keeble—you’re saying he murdered the other gent, the younger one who came in the night before?”
His expression grave, Barnaby replied, “That’s what we believe.”
“That,” Stokes explained, “is why we need your statement. So that we can arrest him for the murder of Thomas Cardwell, the younger gentleman you saw the evening before.”
“The one as was a brother to one of our three likely lads?” Stan asked.
Barnaby and Stokes nodded.
Stan and Lottie exchanged another long look, then Stan faced Stokes. “All right, then—but just a statement for the police.”
Relieved to have got that much, Stokes readily agreed and handed the pair to Morgan and Walsh to escort to the Yard, take the statements, then return the pair to the Fox as the constables had promised.
After watching O’Donnell and the constables usher Stan and Lottie away, Stokes shared a glance with Barnaby, then they started walking toward the main street in order to find a hackney.
“At least,” Barnaby said, looking ahead, “we can now feel sure we’re on the right track.”
Stokes grunted. “Maybe so, but let’s hope the others have had more luck in securing some admissible evidence.”
Penelope was waiting in Stokes’s office when Barnaby and Stokes walked in.
The instant they appeared, she beamed triumphantly, sat up, and shook out the long dun-colored coat she’d retrieved. “Exhibit number one, I believe.”
His gaze on the coat, Stokes rounded the desk. “Is that Keeble’s?”
“Yes.” Penelope surrendered the coat to a curious Barnaby. “When he returned to the house on Tuesday morning, Keeble was all a-fluster, apparently. He declared the coat ruined and gave it to his maid and told her to get rid of it.”
“Did he, indeed?” Stokes sat in his chair.
“Obviously,” Barnaby said, examining the garment’s labels, “the maid didn’t burn it.”
“She couldn’t see what was wrong with it,” Penelope said, “so she gifted it to her beau, who happens to be Monteith’s footman.”
Barnaby threw her an amused look. “You enjoyed asking Monteith to speak with his footman on secret police business, didn’t you?”
Her lips pressed tight in a vain attempt to mute her grin, Penelope nodded. “He was so consumed with curiosity, but he served me tea and biscuits, and the footman surrendered the coat willingly, although he would like it back.”
“I’m not surprised,” Stokes said, eyeing the garment. “It appears to be an expensive piece.”
“From one of the best tailors,” Barnaby confirmed. “It has the tailor’s label sewn in, and I’m sure he’ll be able to confirm that Keeble was the customer for whom he made this.”
