Page 83 of Evil at the Essex House
“I’m afraid it was. Mr. Hiram Schlomsky was adamant that you be investigated thoroughly. Not only because you were holding a tire iron and standing over his daughter’s dead body when he first saw you, but because you were also the last person to see her alive.”
I watched the pretty pink color drain out of Crispin’s cheeks, and he swallowed. “Surely not the last. The body was still warm when we found it. She couldn’t have been dead more than an hour. I last saw her on Wednesday.”
“She was alive somewhere between then and last night,” I agreed. “And St George was with me on top of the church tower from about ten o’clock on. He couldn’t have killed her.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Hiram Schlomsky wouldn’t take your word for it, Philippa,” Tom said, “nor would I, to be honest. I know you’d lie for him if you felt it necessary.”
I shook my head. “That’s ridiculous, Tom. We were together. Hiram Schlomsky saw us himself.”
“He saw you,” Tom corrected, “and a young man with fair hair in evening kit. I have only your word for it that it was Lord St George.”
“Mine and Christopher’s. And Crispin’s himself. Besides, who else do you suppose was with me? TheGrafvon Natterdorff?”
Crispin huffed. Christopher grinned.
“I’m familiar with Lord St George’s feelings about his motorcar,” Tom said, with a glance at Crispin, “so I can’t help but be surprised that he allowed anyone else to drive it.”
“It was between staying in the motorcar by himself, or going in the tower with Pippa,” Christopher said, “and I’m sure I don’t have to explain why?—”
“Kit.” The warning was clear in Crispin’s voice.
“Never mind that,” I said irritably. “Nobody cares, St George. It was Crispin and myself in the church tower, Tom. Christopher was in the Hispano-Suiza. He was as shocked as you are that Crispin was willing to let him take the motorcar, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass him by.”
Crispin rolled his eyes, and it was Christopher’s turn to smirk. I continued, “We stood on the tower and watched the kidnappers drive by, and then watched Hiram drive by, and then watched Hiram come back, and then watched the kidnappers come back, and finally we watched the kidnappers leave, with the ransom and with Christopher in hot pursuit. It took a half hour or so before he came back. For all that time, Crispin was with me at St Olave’s. He was in no position to kill anyone. Except me, at any rate, and as you can see, I’m alive and well.”
“And if you try to insinuate that Kit bludgeoned that unfortunate girl to death—” Crispin began, and Tom shook his head.
“Of course not. Kit wouldn’t.”
“But I would, is that it?”
“No,” Tom said. “I don’t think you would, either. But Hiram Schlomsky suspects you, and told me as much, and for everyone’s sake, I have to investigate thoroughly, because that is my job.”
“Well, he has an alibi,” I said. “Unless I’m suspect, too, and you don’t trust my word?”
“Of course you’re suspect, Darling,” Crispin said irritably. “Didn’t you hear the man? You’d lie for me. Which simply isn’t true, by the way, Gardiner. Philippa wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire.”
“Of course I would,” I shot back, equally irritably, because really, why say something so stupid? “I’ll spit on you right now if you’d like. You wouldn’t even have to be on fire?—”
“Enough!” Tom’s voice cut through the squabbling like a knife through butter, and we both—all three, since Christopher was sniggering—shut up. “I’ll be taking the tire iron, St George. And the torch.”
“Just as long as you don’t take the whole motorcar,” Crispin said. “I need a way to get home. And I would like them back when you determine that there’s no evidence on them.”
Tom nodded. “In exchange, I would like official, signed statements from all three of you as to what happened last night. You can come by the Yard later today and do it. But before you do that, let’s go back to last evening. You saw Mr. Hiram Schlomsky deliver the ransom?”
“We saw him go into the church with a valise,” I nodded. “And come back out without it.”
“And it was the same valise you’d seen in the hotel room?”
Christopher and I exchanged a look. “I assume so,” I said.
Christopher nodded. “No reason to think it wasn’t. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Did you look inside it?”
We all shook our heads—when would we have had the opportunity?—and Tom continued. “Did you get the impression that he hadn’t been able to come up with the money? It’s a large sum, and not a lot of time to get it together.”
“He intimated that he hadn’t,” I said. “Remember, Christopher? When we were in their hotel room, and we asked about it, he said, ‘or as much as I could.’”
