‘Yes, I can, because I was that upset over it, I remembered every part of that day. He was tall. Well built, but not overweight. He had a moustache. Not one of them big ones, but a neat one, a thin line above his upper lip.’

  ‘Clothes?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘Smart,’ said Mrs Rashford. ‘A gentleman. And very polite.’ She frowned. ‘But there was something about him that didn’t ring true. I pride myself on being a good judge of character, and there was something iffy about him. Something not right.’

  ‘Do you keep old newspapers, Mrs Rashford?’ asked Pitt, surprising both the landlady and Abigail with the question.

  ‘What a funny question,’ said Mrs Rashford. ‘Of course. Doesn’t everyone? I keep ’em for lighting the fires and stove.’

  ‘Do you still have copies of the Oxford Messenger for this last week?’

  ‘I think I might,’ she said. ‘I keep ’em in the scullery. Why, is it important?’

  ‘It might be,’ said Pitt.

  ‘In that case, I’ll have a look.’

  She left, and Abigail turned to Pitt and asked, ‘Why do you need the old newspapers?’

  ‘Because the description she gave us of the man who collected Eve Lachelle’s stuff sounded remarkably like Gavin Everett, and there was a picture of Everett in the report about his death. “Tragic museum curator”, that sort of thing.’

  Mrs Rashford returned with a bundle of newspapers.

  ‘You’re in luck, I hadn’t used ’em yet,’ she said.

  Pitt took the newspapers and leafed through them, finally finding what he wanted. He showed the page with the picture of Everett to the landlady.

  ‘Is this the man?’ he asked.

  Mrs Rashford took the page and studied the picture, then nodded, excited. ‘Yes, that’s him! The very self same man! I’m surprised I never saw it!’

  ‘Easily missed for a busy woman like yourself.’ Pitt smiled. ‘Thank you, Mrs Rashford. You’ve been very helpful.’

  Daniel sat in their room at the Wilton Hotel and listened as Abigail outlined what she and Inspector Pitt had learnt.

  ‘So, the day after Eve Lachelle vanishes, Everett turns up at her lodgings and clears her things out. And about the same time, he becomes very friendly with this Piers Stevens, and – as far as we can tell – begins to blackmail him,’ summed up Daniel. ‘What’s the logical conclusion?’

  ‘That something very bad happened to Eve Lachelle which involved Stevens, and Everett was clearing up the mess. And it had to be more than just being about the attack on her, because it happened sometime after that attack, and none of the other men named seemed to be involved.’

  ‘And, by something very bad …?’

  ‘She was killed,’ said Abigail. ‘By Stevens. And Everett was either there or found out about it. And finally, Stevens can’t take being blackmailed, so he shoots Everett.’

  ‘The first part, Stevens killing Eve Lachelle, and Everett being involved and blackmailing him, works for me. But as for Stevens killing Everett, we still have the other possibilities for his murder. The business of the alleged Shakespeare play, the fakery involving this Josiah Goddard, and also Special Branch’s suspicions about Boer involvement.’

  ‘Out of those, Stevens shooting Everett seems most likely,’ observed Abigail.

  ‘I agree,’ said Daniel. ‘So, I think our next move is to pay a call on Mr Stevens. And fortunately, Mr de Witt gave me his address.’

  ‘How?’ asked Abigail. ‘Threats?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ replied Daniel. ‘We talked it over like gentlemen and he saw sense.’

  ‘I still say you made some sort of threat,’ insisted Abigail. ‘De Witt didn’t come across as the altruistic type.’

  There was a tap at the door, and Abigail went to open it. It was Esther, looking very pleased.

  ‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ she said, ‘but I’ve had some good news!’

  ‘In that case, you’d better come in,’ said Abigail. ‘Daniel, remember that you’re a gentleman and stand up so that Esther can sit.’

  ‘No, don’t bother,’ said Esther. ‘I won’t be staying. Honest. I just came to tell you that Mr Pinker heard from the Duchess of Charlbury. I’ve got an appointment to interview her in three days’ time.’

  ‘That’s excellent!’ said Abigail.

  ‘Have you got any news yourselves?’ asked Esther eagerly.

  ‘Sadly, no,’ said Daniel. ‘We’re following up a few leads, but nothing concrete as yet.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘But as a warning to you about being careful, Abigail was attacked today by a man who tried to stop her asking questions.’

  Esther stared open-mouthed at Abigail.

  ‘Attacked?’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘It was nothing.’ Abigail shrugged. ‘I dealt with it.’

  ‘What she means is she beat the man up.’ Daniel grinned. ‘And then had him arrested and questioned.’

  ‘And I was unharmed,’ stressed Abigail. ‘But Daniel’s quite right, we’re investigating something that certain people don’t want us digging into. So be on your guard.’

  ‘Who was this man?’ asked Esther.

  ‘This isn’t for publication,’ Daniel cautioned her.

  ‘No, but it will be one day. And I want to make sure I’ve got all the facts.’

  ‘He was just a brainless thug,’ said Abigail. ‘He’d been hired by a man who works at the Quill Club.’

  ‘The place where that man I mentioned, Mr de Witt, is the manager?’ asked Esther.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Abigail.

  ‘So, do you think this Mr de Witt is involved and is part of some plot?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Daniel. ‘We’re investigating.’

  ‘And we will let you know if we find out anything that ties him to it,’ Abigail promised. ‘Or anything else.’

  ‘Oh, this is so exciting!’ enthused Esther. ‘Murder and violence in Oxford, and I’m involved!’

  ‘But not too involved, please,’ said Abigail. ‘Be careful.’

  ‘I will,’ Esther assured her. She gave them both a broad smile. ‘And to think, you two do this all the time! That’s so exciting!’

  With that, she hurried to the door and left.

  ‘I’m sorry I told her about the thug attacking you without checking with you first,’ said Daniel. ‘But I thought she ought to be warned about the dangers. She strikes me as the kind of person who’ll rush in blindly if she’s not told to be careful.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Abigail. ‘But I love her enthusiasm for it.’ She went to the coat hook and took her coat. ‘And now, let’s go and find this Piers Stevens.’

  The address Daniel had been given for Piers Stevens was a large expensive-looking house in one of the more upmarket areas of Oxford.

  ‘What’s our strategy?’ asked Abigail, as they stood on the pavement studying the house. ‘Do we ring the bell and ask to see him?’

  ‘If he’s involved in a possible murder, I expect if we did that, he’d simply refuse to see us,’ said Daniel.

  ‘So, what are we going to do? Just stand here and wait for him to appear?’

  ‘I often did that with someone who was difficult to nail down when I was in the Yard,’ said Daniel.

  ‘I can’t see that working here,’ commented Abigail. ‘This area reeks of money. Just look at the houses. Two people hanging around in the street like this, they’d suspect us of being burglars casing the joint.’

  Daniel laughed. ‘You are definitely picking up the argot,’ he said. ‘“Casing the joint”. We’ll soon have you talking like a fully fledged member of the criminal fraternity.’

  The front door of the house opened, and a young man stepped out. Pitt had described Stevens to Abigail – young, short, thin fuzzy beard, spectacles – and the young man who appeared and pulled the door shut answered that description perfectly.

  ‘We didn’t have long to wait after all,’ murmured Daniel.

  He led the way towards the young man who was walking along, head down.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Daniel with a polite smile. ‘Mr Piers Stevens?’

  The young man stopped and stared at them, and they could see panic in his eyes.

  ‘No!’ he blurted out. ‘I’m not!’

  He went to hurry on, but Daniel stepped in his way, and the man stopped, looking around him as if about to call for help.

  ‘We only wish to talk to you,’ said Daniel. ‘My name is Daniel Wilson, and this is my partner, Miss Abigail Fenton. We’ve been hired by the Ashmolean Museum to look into the death of Mr Gavin Everett—’

  ‘You’ve no right to talk to me!’ Stevens burst out. ‘Leave me alone!’

  ‘All we want to do is talk to you about your relationship with Mr Everett, and also ask a few questions about Eve Lachelle …’

  The effect on the short man was electric. He began to shake, and suddenly he thrust his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pistol, which he held out towards them, his hand trembling.

  ‘No!’ he moaned.

  ‘Mr Stevens—’ began Daniel.

  And then the gun went off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The bullet whistled past Daniel, but so close that it tore at his sleeve before hitting a brick wall.

  To Daniel’s horror, Stevens levelled the gun again, this time at Abigail. Swiftly, Daniel grabbed Abigail and swung her behind him, and found himself staring down the barrel of the pistol. He saw the man’s finger tighten on the trigger and tensed himself for the bullet, all the time keeping his arms firmly behind him, holding Abigail in cover. Stevens’ finger tightened, but the pistol only gave a dull thud and a click. It had jammed.

  Steven stared at the pistol in horror and tried again, but once more it just clicked. Immediately, Daniel released his hold on Abigail and advanced towards the young man. Stevens let out a yell of anguish, threw the pistol away, and turned and ran. Daniel was about to follow him, but Abigail grabbed hold of him.

  ‘Let him go,’ she said. ‘We know who he is. Inspector Pitt can deal with him.’ Then she threw herself against Daniel and wrapped her arms around him. ‘Don’t ever do that again!’ she said. ‘Brave, yes, but stupid! I want you alive, not a dead hero. He could have killed you.’

  ‘He could have killed you!’ retorted Daniel.

  He eased out of Abigail’s grasp and picked up the small pistol.

  ‘A Derringer,’ he said. ‘Twin-barrelled, just two shots, one in each. We were lucky he chose this rather than a revolver, and we were even luckier the second barrel jammed.’

  Suddenly there was a shout of ‘Drop that gun!’ They turned to see a police constable running towards them, truncheon drawn. Behind him ran a man and a woman.

  Daniel dropped the gun on the pavement.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ he said.

  ‘No, it wasn’t!’ panted the man, trying to catch his breath. ‘It was another man. I saw it all! He was shorter.’

  The constable looked at them, then at the couple who’d brought him, an expression of bewilderment on his face.

  ‘He ran off,’ said Abigail. ‘But he dropped his gun.’

  Daniel fingered the tear in his sleeve where the bullet had narrowly missed him.

  ‘We need to see Inspector Pitt,’ he told the constable. ‘We’re on his side.’

  The constable looked at them suspiciously.

  ‘You would say that,’ he said warily. He edged towards them, then reached down and snatched up the fallen pistol. ‘But I’m taking charge of this.’

  Inspector Pitt studied the small pistol.

  ‘A Derringer,’ he said. ‘American. We don’t see many of these over here. In fact, we rarely see any guns in Oxford.’

  Daniel and Abigail were sitting, along with Inspector Pitt, in the office of Superintendent Clare at Kemp Hall.

  ‘Have you put out an alert for this man, Stevens?’ asked Clare.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Pitt. ‘At the moment we’ve only got the description we had of him from when he fired the gun and then ran off, but I shall be going to his address and hope to get a photograph of him which we can distribute.’

  Clare looked at the small pistol, an expression of concern on his face. ‘We’ve never had a shooting in Oxford during my time here.’ He looked at Daniel. ‘Although I suppose it was a common occurrence for you, Mr Wilson, when you were with Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Actually, sir, no,’ said Daniel. ‘Murders, yes, but they rarely involve firearms.’

  ‘And now we have had two shootings in Oxford in the space of a week,’ said Clare.

  ‘Although it does seem that the same person was responsible for both,’ observed Pitt. ‘Mr Wilson asks Stevens about Everett, and Stevens pulls this gun and tries to shoot him. This points to Stevens being the person who shot Everett.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Daniel doubtfully.

  ‘Why on earth not?’ asked Pitt. ‘A pistol. A man carrying a gun and prepared to kill with it, who fires when he’s asked about Everett. It’s as good as a confession.’

  ‘Stevens was in a panic when he pulled this Derringer,’ said Daniel. ‘His hand was shaking, which was lucky for us, because he missed, even though we were at close range. In fact, he was in a panic the whole time, from the moment we began to talk to him, and was barely able to control his movements. You told us you believed the shot that killed Everett was fired from a distance.’

  ‘The other side of the desk,’ Pitt agreed.

  ‘The bullet hit Everett in the centre of the forehead. That shows a very steady hand and cool nerve. We both think that the killer went out, locked the door, and pushed the key back through the gap at the bottom of the door. That shows cold calm. None of that fits with what we saw of Piers Stevens.’

  ‘Maybe he’s got more edgy and nervous since he shot Everett?’ suggested the superintendent.

  ‘Maybe, sir, but it doesn’t feel right to me,’ said Daniel. ‘The bullet that killed Everett, could it have been from a Derringer?’

  ‘No,’ answered Pitt. ‘It was a .44, the same as from the revolver we found beside the body. But that doesn’t mean much. If he had one gun, he could have had others.’

  ‘Interestingly, it was the mention of Eve Lachelle that made Stevens pull out the gun,’ said Abigail. ‘He got agitated when we talked about Everett, but when we mentioned the name of Eve Lachelle, that was it.’

  ‘I still think he’s our best candidate for the killing of Everett,’ said Pitt. ‘Hopefully, we’ll get the truth of it when we pick him up. Right now, while our men are out looking for him, I’m going to his home to see if they’ve got a photograph of him, and also to see if we can get any clues as to where he might have gone.’ He turned to Clare. ‘With your permission, sir, I’d like to take Mr Wilson and Miss Fenton with me as they’re deeply involved in this case.’

  ‘By all means,’ said Clare. ‘And let’s hope we catch this fellow before he creates more havoc.’

  As Daniel and Abigail, along with Inspector Pitt and a uniformed constable, left the police station, they found Esther hovering outside.

  ‘Abigail!’ burst out Esther. ‘A couple came to the newspaper office and reported that someone had been shot. They said a constable had taken a couple in charge to the station and I wondered if it was you. I should have told the editor, but I didn’t tell anyone else, I just came here myself to get the story.’

  ‘I’m sorry, miss, we’re not ready to talk to the press,’ said Pitt sternly.

  Abigail took hold of the inspector’s arm and pulled him to one side, out of earshot of Esther, although she could see that the woman was straining to hear what was being said.

  ‘It might be better for the story that appears to be factual, rather than a made-up one that depicts Oxford as something out of the Wild West, with shootouts on the street,’ she murmured quietly. ‘We know Esther Maris, and she is genuine. This way you can control what she writes.’

  Pitt wavered, then nodded.

  ‘Very well, miss,’ he said to Esther. ‘You may accompany us to where we’re going, but you must wait outside while we go in and carry out our investigation. After that, we’ll provide you with the sequence of events.’

  Abigail saw that Esther was about to press to be allowed into wherever it was they were going, but Abigail shot her a quick look accompanied by a firm nod to tell her it would be the wisest thing for her not to argue.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Esther. As they set off, with Pitt and the constable leading the way, with Daniel, Abigail and Esther in their wake, she asked, ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To the home of a man called Piers Stevens,’ replied Abigail. ‘He’s the man who did the shooting.’

  ‘This couple said a man was shot.’ She looked at Daniel. ‘Luckily, I can see they were wrong.’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Daniel. ‘The bullet tore a hole in my sleeve, so it’ll need a repair. But nothing a needle and thread can’t fix, fortunately.’

  ‘Is that what you said when you told me to be careful?’ asked Esther. ‘That I might get shot if I start asking questions.’

  ‘We hope not,’ said Abigail. ‘This Piers Stevens dropped his gun and fled.’

  ‘But he might have others?’ said Esther.

  ‘He might,’ Abigail admitted.

  ‘Or other weapons!’ continued Esther. And then, to their surprise, she gave a broad smile. ‘This is so exciting!’

  They arrived back at the house they had seen Stevens leave. Pitt mounted the steps and rang the bell while the others waited on the pavement. A nervous-looking maid opened the door.

  ‘My name is Inspector Pitt from Oxford police,’ said Pitt. ‘Are the family at home?’

  ‘There’s only Mrs Stevens,’ said the maid.

  ‘We’re looking for Mr Piers Stevens,’ said Pitt.

  The maid gave a nervous twitch. A woman’s voice from inside called, in an imperious tone, ‘Who is it, Vera?’

  ‘It’s the police, ma’am,’ said Vera. ‘An Inspector Pitt.’

  ‘Show him in,’ called the voice. ‘Bring him to the drawing room. Make sure he wipes his boots.’

 

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