“And what if I decline to talk to you?” Shaw said.
Hammersmith shrugged. That was certainly an option. From the tone in his voice when he gave his name, this man was apparently prominent in the community. Hammersmith and Pringle were at least several rungs below him in social status, and if Shaw chose to pursue a grievance with Sir Edward, it might cost them their jobs. The two constables were well over the line, and they all knew it.
“Then I suppose we’ll wait, sir. It’s no problem at all. We’ll still be right here outside your home in the morning.”
The implication was clear. When the neighbors awoke and looked out their windows, they would see two wet and miserable police officers sitting outside this brownstone. It wouldn’t be good for the doctor’s reputation. It would require endless visits up and down the street, by both Shaw and his wife, to smooth things over and quell the rumors.
Shaw sighed. “Very well,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to appear rude. Please come inside, but I’ll ask you to refrain from dripping on any of the rugs.”
Hammersmith and Pringle followed Shaw through the door and into a well-appointed antechamber. Shaw didn’t know it, but Hammersmith had been here before, had explored the entire house for clues when the boy’s body was found. He looked around as if it were his first time there. A bench with an embroidered cover sat under a huge gilt-framed mirror to their left as they entered. On the opposite wall was a series of brass hooks beneath a small chandelier. Hammersmith took off his overcoat and hung it on one of the hooks. He hung his hat next to the coat. Pringle hesitated, then followed Hammersmith’s lead. Shaw looked stricken, but said nothing.
It was the custom to leave one’s coat and hat on unless a visit was expected to last more than fifteen minutes. Often, neighbors would take a stroll after dinner and call on their nearby friends and acquaintances. If they left their coats on, it meant that their host shouldn’t worry about serving tea or dessert. To take one’s coat off signaled a prolonged obligation and was avoided unless there was a clear invitation to stay.
Hammersmith had not been invited to stay.
One of the women appeared at the arched doorway between the entrance hall and the rest of the house. She smelled faintly of lavender and apples, and she was the better dressed of the two women Hammersmith had seen outside. He guessed she was Shaw’s wife and the other woman was probably a governess or maid.
“Charles,” she said.
“Penelope,” Shaw said, “please have Elizabeth put on some tea for our guests.”
Shaw didn’t sound pleased about it. The woman, Penelope, looked like she wanted to say something, but then turned and walked out of sight. Hammersmith rummaged in the pocket of his hanging coat until he found his notebook. He turned to a fresh page and wrote Dr Charles and Mrs Penelope Shaw, and then below that Elizabeth-Housekeeper?
“What are you writing?”
“Nothing important, sir. Your names, that’s all. How long has Elizabeth been with you?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know. My wife hired her, of course, and it’s been many years now. At any rate, it’s none of your business. What’s this all about then?”
“Have you been informed that there was a break-in at your address?”
“Here, you mean?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hammersmith watched Shaw’s eyes. Hammersmith had assumed that Shaw knew about the boy’s body and had a good reason to want to avoid talking to the police, but when he heard that his home had been burgled there was genuine surprise and concern in his eyes. It was gone almost immediately, but Hammersmith had seen the emotion there for one unguarded moment.
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“We had no way to reach you.”
“I was … We were in Birmingham on holiday.”
“Birmingham?”
“Family there.”
“I see. May we?”
Hammersmith gestured toward the rooms beyond the hall, and Shaw looked at the floor. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sniffed loudly, then nodded, seemingly to himself rather than his uninvited guests. Without looking directly at the constables, he led the way into the drawing room and they followed.
Pringle grabbed Hammersmith by the arm and they let Shaw get a few steps ahead of them. He gave Hammersmith a look, and Hammersmith nodded. Mentioning the break-in to Shaw was a dangerous move. Hammersmith hadn’t even told Inspector Tiffany about Blackleg’s involvement in finding the boy’s body. There was no official record of any burglary. If Shaw went over their heads and inquired at the Yard, Hammersmith might lose his job. But he was certain Shaw wouldn’t contact the police. And scaring the doctor was the only surefire way he could see to get his attention.
Shaw’s drawing room was tastefully decorated. There was nothing gaudy about it; the stag’s head on the wall looked to Hammersmith’s untrained eye to be real, and the furniture was old but elegant. The large round table in the center of the room was scratched and scarred, but crafted of a single piece of wood and had surely cost more than Hammersmith’s entire annual salary when it was new. There was a low armchair with a high back, and Penelope Shaw was sitting in it, waiting for them. She rose and greeted them as if they hadn’t just met her at the front door.
She held out her hand and Hammersmith took it. He looked from it to her face and noted the way her dark hair framed her high cheekbones. Her eyes were wide and a blue so pale they appeared frozen. She smiled and looked away from him.
She waved them all to chairs and they sat. Hammersmith saw Charles Shaw bristle silently as he and Pringle sat down. The housekeeper, Elizabeth, entered with tea and set the table for them. The scones appeared to be several days old, but Hammersmith assumed it was the best she could do for unexpected strangers at three o’clock in the morning. He passed up a scone, but took a cup as Shaw explained the situation to his wife.
“They say we’ve had a break-in while on holiday.”
“Oh, my. Was anything taken?”
“You might be able to tell us that, ma’am,” Hammersmith said.
“Well, I haven’t … I mean, we’ve only just arrived home. I wouldn’t have any idea yet.”
“They’re lying,” Shaw said. His face went white and he blinked quickly. He clearly hadn’t meant to speak out loud.
“Pardon me?” Hammersmith said.
“I apologize. I’m quite tired.”
“Of course. We’re very sorry to intrude like this. It’s just that with you being such an important figure in the neighborhood, we assume that your neighbors might also face some danger of burglary. We want to nip this in the bud as quickly as possible. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Penelope said.
Hammersmith could feel the doctor sizing him up, but he didn’t look at him. Instead, he focused his attention on the wife. Penelope was much younger than her husband. Her face reminded Hammersmith of a fox: long and lean and smart. There was something hungry about her, hidden behind a facade of perfect respectability.
“Mrs Shaw, have you noticed anyone unusual in the neighborhood of late?”
“We’ve been out of the city,” Shaw said.
Hammersmith shifted his attention to the husband. “For how long?”
Shaw hesitated and Hammersmith watched the doctor’s eyes. Shaw met his gaze and straightened his shoulders.
“Just the night. We ran into weather and had to turn around.”
“So you weren’t gone long at all.”
“I didn’t know how recently you meant.”
“Before you left, then?”
“No. I think I would have attached some importance to anyone who appeared-”
“I’m sure you would. But we mustn’t rule anyone out. What about your staff?”
“Elizabeth is beyond reproach.”
“I understand. And this is a difficult question to be faced with, but how well do you know the rest of your household? What about your laundress or your chimney sweep?”