“They’ve been distributed to other staff. I didn’t think the police would want to look at them. I’m not even sure I should let you. I may need to ask the chairman of the board about that.” Flowers didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect.
“We don’t need to look at the files themselves,” Payne said. “I don’t care about your members’ finances, but I do want a list of names and addresses.”
“I will have to ask Lord Mayhew,” Flowers said, his smile disappearing.
“Reginald Mayhew?” Payne asked, looking up from his inspection of the desk.
“Exactly,” Flowers said. “He has held the chair since the beginning of the war. Now if there is nothing else, I will leave you gentlemen to it. Please call upon me if you need any other assistance. You are not a member, Inspector Payne, are you?”
“No need, thank you.” Flowers left, probably to telephone his boss and call down the wrath of His Lordship on Inspector Payne.
“Anything in the drawers?” I asked Payne.
“Erasers, pencils, application forms, and several other reasons I am quite happy to be a policeman, dead bodies and all. Nothing of interest.”
“I can’t help feeling that’s the biggest clue we’ve found.”
“What the devil do you mean, Boyle? We haven’t found a single clue.”
“Right. No clues, no evidence of anything other than a boring life and a boring job. He did have a nice view, though.” I parted the curtains and looked through the wide window. From up here, he had a clear view over the rooftops, along the canal, and to the back door of the Kennet Arms. Where he’d been murdered.
“Your point, then, about the clues?” Payne said.
“It’s like that Sherlock Holmes story. The one about the dog in the nighttime.”
“Ah, the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime. The dog that did not bark, which was the clue Holmes observed. ‘Silver Blaze,’ I think it was.”
“Yes, that one. Inspector, think about it. We’ve turned over Neville’s home and office, and we’ve not found anything. Not a liquor bottle hidden in a desk drawer, no French postcards, not the slightest embarrassment. How many guys could pull that off?”
“Interesting speculation, Boyle. Put your time to better use and leaf through those books, will you? He may have hidden his dirty pictures in there.” Payne gave a chuckle as he went through the last drawer, piling stacks of paper on the desk. I pawed through books and found one stamped rail ticket to Hastings from 1941. Hardly useful.
“Have you seen a briefcase?” I said. “He was carrying one in the photograph.”
“No. Perhaps it was stolen when he was killed.”
“Maybe,” I said, although Neville had been dressed in an old tweed jacket, nothing suitable for the office. It seemed the briefcase could only be in his room or this office, and it was in neither place.
“Nothing here, Boyle,” Payne said finally. “Let’s go. I have a girl to search for. Sadly, we will more likely find a corpse at this point.”
“Okay,” I said, tossing the last of the books into the pile. I glanced around the room one more time. “Wait, there’s one thing we missed.”
“What’s that?”
“The typewriter ribbon. If it hasn’t been typed over, we might be able to read what he last typed out.” The machine was a sturdy black Imperial, with two reels for the ribbon set on top. But there was no ribbon. It was gone.
“Someone beat us to it,” I said.
“Let’s go and see Flowers,” Payne said.
We found Flowers in his office. It was a lot nicer than Neville’s. His secretary was sputtering on about not interrupting him, but she quickly retreated when Payne showed his warrant card. Flowers was on the telephone and quickly put his hand over the receiver.
“Who else has been here?” Inspector Payne said, his voice grim and authoritative.
“Please, I am speaking with Lord Mayhew,” Flowers said, his hand pressed tightly over the receiver. I guessed Mayhew wasn’t used to being interrupted.
“Go on, then,” Payne said, taking a seat in front of Flowers’ desk and crossing his legs. “Tell His Lordship you are about to be detained for impeding a murder investigation.”
“And destroying evidence,” I said, standing close to Flowers, close enough that I could make out Mayhew’s voice. He wasn’t in a good mood.
“Yes, thank you, Captain Boyle, I nearly forgot. Unpleasant business for the Newbury, but there you have it,” Payne said, a malicious grin on his face.
“Excuse me, Lord Mayhew,” Flowers said, beads of sweat showing on his forehead. “The police wish to speak with me. Yes, I will ring you.” He hung the telephone in its cradle and took a deep breath, but it didn’t seem to relax him. I wondered who made him more nervous, the police or his boss.
“You’ve removed his files,” Payne said. “Which I can understand, since business has to proceed. But what I can’t figure out is why you’d take the ribbon out of his typewriter. Run short on office supplies, have you?” Payne had that look in his eye, the look a detective gets when he knows he’s got the upper hand. Predatory, hungry. He was almost smiling at the prospect of an actual clue.
“What? I have no idea what you mean,” Flowers said, confusion replacing his nervousness. “We have plenty of typewriter ribbons, there’s no reason for it to be stolen.”
“I didn’t say it was stolen, I said it was removed. Now why would you do that?”
“I wouldn’t, and I didn’t,” Flowers said. He pressed an intercom button and called for his secretary. I watched his hands. No telltale smudges. “Ah, Miss Gardner. Please tell the inspector if anyone has been given access to Mr. Neville’s office.”
“Why no, Mr. Flowers,” she said.
“And was it locked when you and I went up yesterday for the files?”
“Yes, it was. Is something missing?” Her face showed concern. Was she worried she’d be accused of theft? She was on the far side of thirty, thin and pale, with wispy brown hair.
“Nothing of importance. Inspector, do you have any further questions?”
“How many keys are there to that office, and who has them?”
“Two, I believe. I have a full set, and Miss Gardner does as well. Both are kept in locked desk drawers.” Flowers looked smug while Miss Gardner twisted a handkerchief in her hands.
“Miss Gardner,” I said, as calmly as I could. “We’re just trying to determine if any unauthorized person had access to that office. Is that possible?”
“No, I should say not. Mr. Flowers locked it as he left, I saw him. And I know my keys are accounted for.”
“Fine,” I said. “That’s all we need to hear.” I could see her face relax, and she looked to Flowers to see if she was dismissed. “Too bad about Mr. Neville. Was he popular with the staff?”
“He did his job well, which is all I was concerned with,” she said, jutting out her chin and giving a brisk nod to Flowers as she left, shutting the door behind her. Brisk, efficient, and a bad liar.
“There will be an inquest,” Payne said, standing with his hands on his hips, staring down at Flowers. “And you will be placed under oath. I shall ask you again if anyone else has been in that office. If your answer should prove to be untrue, I will arrest you on a charge of perjury. Is that understood?”
“All because of a typewriter ribbon?” Flowers stammered. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is. Perhaps you should talk directly with Lord Mayhew. There’s nothing else I can say.”
I gave Miss Gardner my best smile as we left, and she returned it with pinched lips. In the hallway, I tapped Payne on the shoulder and motioned him to follow me. We went upstairs, back to Neville’s office. I knelt at the door and studied the lock.
“I had the same thought,” Payne said, glancing down the hallway. He produced a folding magnifying glass in a brass case and nudged me aside. “There, at the bottom of the keyway. A small gouge from the tension wrench. See?” He handed me the glass.
“Yes. This lock has been picked.”