Читать книгу Lady Alkmene Collection: Four fabulous 1920s murder mysteries you won’t want to miss! - Vivian Conroy - Страница 25

Chapter Fourteen

‘Can you imagine that?’ Alkmene burst when they had left the perplexed ex-heiress at her breakfast table with her half smoked cigarette. ‘Pemboldt, Norwhich’s own lawyer, hired the girl to play his niece, while he knew, outright knew, she was not the right heiress. Why on earth would he do that? How can he benefit? Aw…’

She froze on the pavement, and Jake grabbed her arm, looking down. ‘Broke your heel?’ he asked cynically.

‘No, I forgot to ask who proposed to her behind the screen. If that was Pemboldt, he was after Norwhich’s fortune all the time. But the fellow I heard talking sounded younger, a bit arrogant, you know, not a stick of a lawyer…’

‘I won’t even bother to ask what on earth you are referring to,’ Jake said with a snort. ‘I just want to see that fancy Mr Pemboldt and let him explain it all. It’s perfectly legal, he told her, and that being a lawyer…’ He shook his head.

‘She also didn’t say who the major was,’ Alkmene continued out loud. She could just slap herself for having forgotten to ask all these important questions. But after the name Pemboldt had been uttered, her mind had whirred with reasons why, motives, alibis, the whole lot, and she had forgotten all about the proposal behind the screen and the major mentioned in that conversation.

Now she understood better why the police at times followed up on fake clues, pursuing one angle, while not seeing other elements that were right under their noses. There were so many elements to a case, and the picture kept shifting like a kaleidoscope.

‘Say…’ She hurried after Jake, who had resumed walking again to Pemboldt’s offices off Brook Street. ‘If you ever eloped, where would you go?’

‘Why would I elope?’ Jake asked with a frown. ‘I don’t have to ask for anybody’s permission to marry.’

‘Just for the sake of analysis. If you eloped, took a girl on the run to marry her without her family’s permission, where would you go?’

Jake waved a hand. ‘I don’t know. I’d take the Orient Express probably and decide on the way what stop I’d get off at. Plenty of possibilities, each with its own advantages.’

Alkmene smiled to herself. See. Gretna Green was for amateurs.

Jake glanced at her. ‘You would not elope with some cad of a lord, would you? Nah, you would not have to. Your father would love the cad of a lord and agree to the marriage on a whim.’

Before Alkmene could protest he pushed on, ‘We can’t expect this shrewd lawyer Pemboldt to cave as easily as dear Evelyn has. She believed that I already knew a lot about her and the whole impersonation scheme, but Pemboldt is smarter than that, and if he has blood on his hands, he will be desperate to deny it all.’

‘Well, you can’t always have it easy,’ Alkmene said, a little vicious because of his ‘dear Evelyn’. ‘Perhaps you should go with her to America. Not for a career in journalism in New York City, but to try your luck on the stage. You play “understanding” with real flair.’

Jake hitched a brow at her. ‘Jealous?’

‘Of course not. You just manipulated her for your own gain. One moment you were luring her with sugar water, the next you about twisted her wrist.’

‘It got us what we wanted, didn’t it?’ Jake pointed ahead. ‘The offices of our scheming family lawyer. What are we going to say?’

‘I will announce myself as Lady Alkmene and ask for some legal advice on a delicate matter. It’s amazing how much space people suddenly have in their schedule when you can produce a title. Then once we are in there, he is all yours.’

Jake rolled his eyes at her, but he let her go in ahead of him and announce herself at the desk with the clerks. They were immediately taken into a neat waiting room where a grandfather clock ticked away the minutes and a poster on the wall reminded them that a will prevented family strife.

Alkmene sat down and nodded at it. ‘That is one thing my father doesn’t have to worry about. Family strife after he is gone. There is just me.’

She glanced at Jake. ‘Same thing for you, I suppose.’

Jake sat upright, staring in the distance, probably rehearsing his part. She wanted to probe what his plan was, but the door had already opened and the senior clerk took them to see Mr Pemboldt.

Upon entry Alkmene realized two things. No way was Mr Pemboldt Evelyn Steinbeck’s suitor. No young woman would cast a second look at the short man with wrinkled face, rimmed spectacles and almost no hair.

And how on earth had he travelled to America to find her and take her out here? He didn’t even look able to get up from behind that desk and greet them. He swayed a little as he stood, and the hand he extended was shaking.

He had to be eighty!

Jake seemed to be taken aback by the wiry figure as well. He seated himself and cleared his throat. ‘I uh…’

‘We have heard that you are a very good lawyer,’ Alkmene cut across him. A somewhat gentle touch was needed here. If Jake twisted this old man’s arm, they might have another corpse on their hands! ‘Mr Silas Norwhich was so happy with your services.’

Pemboldt shifted his weight. His expression was inscrutable, but then as a lawyer he had probably trained himself to show no emotion whatsoever.

He said stiffly, ‘I have served his family all my life. His father before him and then he. It was an honour to do so.’

Jake leaned his elbows on his knees. ‘Yes, family… That meant a lot to Mr Norwhich. You found his niece for him. The long-lost relative he had been looking for.’

Pemboldt blinked a moment. He reminded Alkmene of the reptiles in the London Zoo, patiently waiting on their branches, looking sluggish and harmless, until they suddenly moved with lightning speed to snatch their prey. If he had set up the entire impersonation scheme, he was more dangerous than he looked.

The old man said, ‘He was very happy when we found her for him.’

‘Just so he could have an heir?’ Alkmene asked.

Pemboldt smiled. ‘It was much more to him, Lady Alkmene. His money wasn’t his concern foremost, but…doing what was right.’

‘Do you believe he died, knowing he had done it?’ Jake asked. ‘The right thing, I mean.’

Pemboldt looked pained. He leaned back, considering his answer before he spoke. ‘I am not sure. He died suddenly and…in a shocking way. It is very painful for me to discuss, because of my office’s long service to his family. I trust you will understand this. I would like to hear, Lady Alkmene, how I may serve you. I heard it was a delicate matter?’

Alkmene smiled. ‘It is very simple, Mr Pemboldt. Mr Norwhich told my father how happy he was that you had tracked down his niece and reunited them. Apropos, I believe you did not travel to America yourself to find her?’

‘No, a very promising young lawyer from my firm did. Fitzroy Walker.’

Alkmene shocked upright. FW… The one who had given the golden locket to Evelyn Steinbeck? The man who had also proposed to her?

Pemboldt said, ‘My gout doesn’t permit me to make long journeys any more. I prefer to stay here and see that the business continues to run properly. My staff is excellently equipped to handle the interests of our clients.’

‘I did hear…’ Alkmene said slowly, as if she was reluctant to share a bit of gossip, ‘that the man in question, this Mr Walker, your employee, was pursuing the young lady’s affections. I do find this a little…unconventional, considering the way in which they met and the official capacity he had towards her.’

Mr Pemboldt reddened. ‘They have spent time together in America and during the journey back here and that might have put the idea in the young man’s head, but I assure you the young lady has reminded him of his place and their relationship has never been…anything worth mentioning.’

Alkmene was certain Mr Walker didn’t hold this view.

Jake sat half turned away from them and the conversation, looking at a cabinet with gleaming trophies along the wall. ‘I see you have been in the army, Mr Pemboldt. India, I think?’

Pemboldt smiled; he suddenly seemed to grow. ‘Yes. Several campaigns. Lovely country. Great climate, nice people. Excellent polo fields.’

Alkmene asked, ‘Your rank was major?’

Pemboldt nodded. ‘How do you know?’

‘I once heard Ms Steinbeck refer to you as the major.’

Pemboldt flushed again. ‘That is a most irritating habit of Mr Walker’s. He started to refer to me that way, and the entire staff followed his example. I assure you I try to discourage it, but you know how young people are these days. It is not what it used to be any more.’

Alkmene nodded polite agreement, but her mind raced. So the major, being Pemboldt, might not have given the money if Walker married Ms Steinbeck. That all fitted together. They were on the right track here. The question was, how much had Pemboldt known of what Walker was doing?

When he had just denied that the personal relationship between Walker and Ms Steinbeck was anything serious, had he been lying to cover up an illicit affair?

Or did he really believe it was over, while Walker had kept on pursuing Ms Steinbeck without his employer’s knowledge?

Jake said, ‘I suppose your time in India taught you about subterfuge? I mean, you must have been cunning to survive out there.’

Pemboldt seemed to relax again as if this topic of conversation was safe. ‘I guess you could put it that way. I always tried to find a solution for the problem at hand, yes. The best answer to a tricky situation.’

‘And finding a fake heir for Silas Norwhich was the best you could do?’ Jake’s tone had not changed; it was still pleasantly conversational, as if he was simply continuing the theme of India.

But the old man paled under his words and was staring at him in shock.

Jake continued, ‘Ms Steinbeck is no more related to Mr Norwhich than I am, or Lady Alkmene here. She was only…shall I say, cast, to play the part. I am sure that was the best you could do, Mr Pemboldt, but I admit that I am hard pressed to fit your “solution” with your proclaimed loyalty to the family you served for so many years.’

Pemboldt kept staring. His lips began to tremble. He reached for the bell on his desk to ring for one of the clerks, probably to see them out.

But then he pulled his hand back again, his fingers shaking.

He breathed deep, then pushed both of his hands to his face. ‘If only he had not died that night. Then it would have worked perfectly.’

Jake cast a glance at Alkmene. She signalled him to give it a moment and wait if the old man went on of his own accord.

Pemboldt pulled his hands down and looked at them. ‘What do you want with this? Make a scene? Ruin my firm? Ruin the young lady also? I can assure you that Evelyn Steinbeck is innocent of any form of bad intent. She had no idea what she was getting into when she agreed to be part of this.’

Alkmene shook her head. ‘We are not here to hurt anyone. We are only interested in finding Mr Norwhich’s killer.’

Pemboldt bit his lip. ‘So you do not believe that he fell and struck his head either.’

Jake shook his head. ‘He was murdered. We want to find out by whom and what for. If you really served his family well, Mr Pemboldt, and have a sense of honour, you will help us now.’

Pemboldt stared at his trembling hands. Then he said, ‘Yes, I must. But you must promise me this. If nothing of it need come out in order to catch the killer, you will keep everything I am now about to tell you to yourself. No need to slander a dead man.’

Jake nodded. ‘I agree. I give you my word. The matter will remain entirely between the three of us, unless details of it are vital in unmasking the killer and bringing him to justice.’

Pemboldt nodded. ‘Very well then. The thing is this…’ He took a moment to focus. ‘Mr Norwhich was obsessed with the idea he had an heir somewhere in the world. He himself never had any children, but he had had a younger brother, a rather wild young man, who caused no end of trouble to the family. One summer he was staying in Cunningham…’

Alkmene perked up and looked pointedly at Jake.

Pemboldt didn’t seem to notice, staring into the distance as he reminisced, ‘A little town in Dartmoor. There he fell in love with a local girl. Now he was known to fall in love at whim, profess undying affection for the girl and then fall in love with another. So his family didn’t take his letters home very seriously. Unfortunately, as things go in life, this time it was different. He had really fallen in love and he secretly married the girl. She was pregnant when he left her to go see his family in London, promising to be back again soon and buy them a little house with a rose garden.’

Alkmene winced. A bakery, or a little house with a rose garden – men seemed to know exactly what to promise a woman to get their way. She did not dare glance at Jake, but focused on Pemboldt, who was continuing his story.

The old man said, ‘Once in London he told his family the whole story and they were appalled. They didn’t believe he had acted in earnest and tried to persuade him not to go back to the girl. In fact, Silas Norwhich himself took his brother to France and installed him on a business venture there, making sure he had lots of money and parties to attend, and soon he was engaged to another and married. Of course that marriage was totally invalid, as long as his first marriage wasn’t annulled, and the woman in question alive.’

Pemboldt rested his hands on his desk. ‘Now this is where it gets…bitter. Silas Norwhich went to Cunningham to look for his sister-in-law and persuade her to agree to set his brother free. He believed she had just married him for money and that the right amount of it could persuade her easily enough to step back and leave him to his new life in France. But when she didn’t want to, saying she loved her husband and wanted him to come back to her, Mr Norwhich threatened her with severe consequences if she did not set his brother free.’

Pemboldt stared ahead. ‘Mr Norwhich was a man of strong temper and very protective of his family name. He threatened her, intimidated her, and that same day she vanished from the town. Rumour has it she wandered into the marshes and drowned. In any case, Silas Norwhich came back from his errand in Dartmoor, carrying a load of guilt. For a long time he talked to no one of it and his brother had a good life in France, but never had a child. He died eventually, of pneumonia. As he grew older, Silas became obsessed with finding out what had happened to the woman in Cunningham and the baby. I should say, he became obsessed with the idea they had not died and could still be traced. He wanted to give them money to set the injustice of old straight. Money up front, and then his entire fortune, upon his death. He was certain it was the only way to clear his conscience before he died, and he engaged me to achieve this aim.’

Pemboldt focused on them again, his eyes weary. ‘I have tried to find out all I could, but I could not establish either the woman’s death or her survival. Meanwhile Silas’s obsession became so strong he was never doing anything else but reading up books about Cunningham, travelling there to see the land, tracking down people who remembered those days, et cetera. In the end I knew for sure there was but one way to stop it and that was to produce the child, the missing heir, to whom he could leave his fortune and set straight what he had done wrong.’

He wet his lips. ‘I knew I would be creating a lie, but it pained me to see him burdened by this guilt, after so much time had passed. It had really been his brother’s wrongdoing, not his. His brother had never bothered to do anything about it, so why should Silas suffer for it? I only wanted to help him.’

He sighed. ‘I had seen a photograph of this girl that his brother had then courted and I sent my most trusted employee Fitzroy Walker to look for someone who was just like her. I also insisted on her having a British mother who was deceased so the story would match the truth as much as possible. When Walker came back from New York with Evelyn Steinbeck, a burden was lifted off my shoulders. She seemed like a decent girl, who could play the part without causing trouble or making bad slips that could betray the secret. Once she was introduced to him, Silas was beyond happy and I was finally free to forget about the whole thing.’

Pemboldt sighed again. ‘I guess his death so soon after his only heir was found made it all look so suspicious. I was worried the police would start an investigation, find out the truth and believe I had been a part of it from the start. That I had planted this false heir on him with a specific purpose. However, I consoled myself with the idea that I could prove that I would not benefit financially in any way, and my innocence would be clear to all.’

Jake said, ‘But you did not know that your partner Fitzroy Walker was getting Evelyn Steinbeck to marry him so everything that was once Silas Norwhich’s would then be his. As an employee in your firm he must have had an excellent idea of how substantial Mr Norwhich’s riches were and how attractive the prospect of inheriting it all, via marriage to the fake heiress he had himself produced.’

Alkmene saw the old man sway. She continued softly, ‘Yes, you had no idea of Mr Walker’s intentions, perhaps, but if he had pulled it off, it would have looked very bad for you indeed.’

The old man sat up straight, his eyes blazing. ‘Then Fitzroy Walker must be the killer. He must have gone over to talk Silas into letting him marry his niece and when Silas refused… I know he will have refused, as he was a proud man who would never accept a simple lawyer as husband for his niece.’

Jake beside her winced a moment.

Pemboldt spoke, full of fire about his theory, ‘He must have pushed him so he fell and died. Even if he did not intend to kill him, he is guilty of wanting the niece and the money, of driving Silas into death.’

Pemboldt’s voice broke. ‘I am guilty also for choosing Walker for the mission in America. He has a sharp mind and knows how to improvise, which seemed excellent for the delicate matter at hand. But when he set eyes on Evelyn Steinbeck, he must have believed that everything he normally would have to work for long years to earn was now within his grasp. He forgot all about Silas Norwhich’s anguish and our intent to help him. Instead he decided this was the ideal way to secure a future for himself.’

Pemboldt swallowed hard. ‘I have delivered both my client and this innocent young woman into the hands of a vulture.’

‘It seems so,’ Jake agreed softly. He sat thinking, his feet planted apart, his hands on his knees. ‘Did you have any knowledge of an argument Silas Norwhich had at the theatre shortly before he died?’

‘Yes.’ Pemboldt flinched. He seemed to steel himself to be able to tell this part of the story to them. ‘Silas came here, raving mad. Just stormed into my office, while I was speaking with another client, demanded that the client leave, and I talked to him at once. I saw he was too angry to listen to reason, so I did what he asked without protest. As soon as we were alone, he told me that people claiming to be heirs to his fortune now pursued him and that the only way they could have found out about the tie with Cunningham was via me. I denied most strongly that I had ever shared anything with anyone that could have led people with such claims to his door, but he left, still convinced it was all my fault.’

Jake asked sharply, ‘Someone came to see him claiming to be his heir, specifically mentioning Cunningham?’

‘Yes. I can assure you I never told anybody about the unhappy history. It must have been Walker again. I should never have involved him. I believed I could trust him completely, but I was so wrong.’ Pemboldt buried his head in his hands again.

‘Perhaps it was not your fault as much as you believe,’ Jake said. ‘We are very grateful for your honesty. And no word of this will ever be known to the public, unless it has to be revealed in a court of law to bring Silas Norwhich’s killer to justice.’

‘In that case,’ Pemboldt said in a stronger voice, ‘I would be the first to demand it would be revealed.’

Jake rose. ‘We understand each other.’ He reached out and carefully shook the old man’s hand. ‘Take care and be wary of Fitzroy Walker until we know for sure he was not the killer. If he can push a big man and kill him, he can certainly kill you.’