his embarrassment and obvious discomfort? Why had William Weems sat behind his desk and allowed someone to bring in a gun? A gun capable of firing the gold pieces would have to be a muzzle loader. Who walks through the streets carrying such a thing? It argued a very careful premeditation. Where were the incriminating papers and the letter Byam had said were there? If Byam was guilty, and he had removed them, why had he bothered to call Drummond and admit any connection at all? And what about Addison Carswell?
“Mornin’ sir,” Innes said cheerfully. “Lovely day again.”
“Yes,” Pitt agreed dourly. “Going to be hot.”
“Got anything further?” Innes was relentlessly optimistic, although his quick eyes had taken in Pitt’s expression. “Any of them other people look hopeful? We got nothing ’ere, an’ I can’t ’elp wonderin’ ’ow any o’ these people would get ’old o’ the kind o’ gun that killed the poor devil.” He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, a comfortable and informal gesture.
“I wish we could find that, Mr. Pitt,” he said with a frown. “I’d feel a lot closer if we could. I bin ’round all the cabbies, like you said, but no one remembers a fare carryin’ anything like a gun big enough ter blow Weems’s ’ead off.” He screwed up his face. “You sure it couldn’t ’a bin the one wot was already there on the wall? They couldn’t ’a used it then taken the pin down after, to confuse us, like?”
“No,” Pitt said grimly. “It was filed down and there was a patina of use on the metal. You don’t fake that in a few minutes. And who would think to bring a file-or hang around with that corpse to use it?”
Innes shrugged. “Yer right. It don’t make no sense. an’ there weren’t ’anging space fer another gun, nor there weren’t one moved on the wall, I looked fer that.”
“Did we ask the cleaning woman-what’s her name?”
“Mrs. Cairns.”
“Did we ask her if she’d seen another gun any time?”
“Yes-she said she ’adn’t seen nothing-but I don’t know whether to believe ’er or not. She’d no love fer ’im, as she don’t want ter get involved with any part of it.”
“You think she’d lie?” Pitt sat on the windowsill, this time leaving the chair for Innes, if he wished.
“I think she’d deliberately forget,” Innes said judiciously. “The local opinion is pretty well on the side of ’oever done it. ’E weren’t liked, weren’t Mr. Weems.”
“What a surprise,” Pitt said sarcastically. “Still, I think I’ll go and take another look at his rooms. Are all the papers still there?”
“Yes sir. Place is locked. I’ll get the key. Mind, I’m beginning ter think it were one o’ your nobs. Sorry sir, but I do.”
“So do I,” Pitt admitted. “But I’m often surprised.” He stood up again. “Come on-get that key and we’ll look again.”
Half an hour later they were methodically sorting through sheets of paper and putting them from one pile to another, uncertain what they were looking for. They found the closed office with its stale air, and their knowledge of what was done there, heavily oppressive, even to the rise of nausea if they stopped to imagine that night, the despair, the violence and the sudden horror of blood, an act irretrievable, and the fear afterwards.
“Got it!” Innes said suddenly in triumph, his voice ringing out in the heavy silence. “ ’Ere!” He held up a sheet of paper with a name in capitals on the top, and figures and dates and amounts all down it, finishing at the bottom with a line of handwriting.
“What?” Pitt said, puzzled as to what it could be and afraid to hope.
“ ’Ere!” Innes was not to be dampened in his victory. “Look!” He thrust the paper forward. “Walter ’Opcroft, paid ’is last installment of interest in ’is debt with a blunderbuss-same day as Weems was shot!” His voice rose with conviction. “It must ’a bin ’ere in the office when ’is murderer came! ’E just took advantage of it! Stands ter reason.” His face was beaming.
Pitt straightened up from the drawers where he had been sifting through papers yet again. “And what?” He frowned. “He and Weems had a quarrel and he saw the blunderbuss, went to the powder boxes, tipped the powder into the breach, picked up the gold coins from the desk, or wherever they were, loaded them, and then shot half Weems’s head off? What was Weems doing?”
Innes stood motionless.
“Well at least we know w’ere the gun came from,” he said defensively.
Pitt sighed. “We do,” he agreed. “Well done. Now we have to work out how in heaven’s name he managed to load it and fire it without Weems stopping him. What happened here, Innes? Can you think of anything-anything at ail-that would explain it?”
“No sir,” Innes said, pulling a face. “Maybe when we know who it is, we’ll understand.” He looked hopeful.
“Maybe,” Pitt agreed. “I was rather looking for it to be the other way, knowing what happened would lead us to who it is.”
Innes took a deep breath. “I don’t like to ’ave ter say this, sir, but could this nob o’ yours ’ave come ’ere, for whatever reason, an’ ’ad a quarrel with Weems, an’ ’is bein’ a nob, Weems don’t think ’e’d turn nasty, so ’E didn’t believe it when it ’appened. P’r’aps the nob-sorry sir-but not knowin’ ’is name I ’ave ter call ’im something, p’r’aps ’E admired the gun, casual like, and Weems, since ’E ’ad the upper ’and, Jus’ sat there an let ’im go on!”
Innes drew a deep breath. “An’ o’ course Weems knew ’E ’adn’t any shot for it, an’ ’E wouldn’t think o’ gold coin as bein’ ammunition. an’ the nob-sorry sir-’E quietly loads it, talking agreeable like, an’ keepin’ the gold coins in ’is pocket w’ere Weems don’t know about them-until the last moment when ’E shoved them down the barrel and lifted it up. And Weems were so surprised ’E didn’t believe it, till the gentleman fired, an’ it were too late!” He stood expectantly, waiting for Pitt’s comment.
“Doesn’t sound very probable,” Pitt said slowly. “But it’s better than anything else we’ve got so far. Pity we didn’t know Weems-only got other people’s ideas of him to know whether he was as complacent as that, or sure of having the whip hand.”
“From what I ’ear, ’E was,” Innes said with disgust. “ ’Ad a lot o’ power ’round ’ere-and liked the taste of it.”
Pitt pushed his hands into his pockets.
“Who did you get that from?” Pitt asked, realizing how little he had pressed Innes for the sources of his knowledge about the dead man. Perhaps he had been remiss. It was just conceivable the murder had been personal after all, and nothing to do with debt or blackmail, although it was so remote a possibility he did not believe it for a moment.
“We ’ad the errand chappie, Windy Miller, in again,” Innes replied, still holding the sheet of paper in his hand. “Nasty little beggar, but ’E certainly knew Weems pretty well. Got ’im summed up ter rights. Read ’im like a book, an’ ’ated ’im according.” Innes pushed out his lip. “Thought we might ’ave ’ad summink there, but ’e’s got twenty witnesses’ll swear ’E was in the Dog an’ Duck ’alf the night playin’ dominoes, and drunk under the table the other ’alf. Besides, ’E ’ad a good job wi’ Weems, and not like ter get another easy.”
Pitt sat down on the edge of the table.
“And he couldn’t tell you anything useful? Didn’t Weems have any female attachments, even just…” He hesitated, not sure how to phrase what he meant.
“No,” Innes answered for him with a wry grin. “Seems ’E ’adn’t no use fer women. Nor nobody else,” he added hastily. “Some people’s like that-not many, mind, but Weems were one of ’em. Liked money, an’ the power it give ’im. Windy said ’e’d always bin like that. ’is pa were a gambler, rich one day and dirt poor the next. died in debtors’ prison somewhere. Never knew ’is ma.”
“What did the housekeeper say about him?”
“Nothin’ much,” Innes said with a shrug. “Nasty piece o’ woik.”
“Mrs. Cairns?”
“No-although she’s no jewel, but I meant Weems. Watched every farthing, she says, wouldn’t give nobody an inch. She didn’t say it in them words, but I gather as ’E ’ad no sense o’ ’umor neither. Liked ’is food and spent money on it, but that’s about all. Oh-’E liked ter be warm. Didn’t mind spendin’ money on keepin’ the fire in ’is own room. Rest o’ the ’ouse was like an icebox in winter, she said, but always a good fire in ’is office.”
“Anyone have a good word for him?” Pitt said dryly.
“Tradesmen,” Innes replied with a meaningful look. “ ’E paid ’is bills in time, and to the penny.”
“Bravo.” Pitt was sarcastic. “No one else?”
“Not a soul.”
