Wouldn't It Be Deadly (12 page)

“Have a care, sir,” Jack said in a voice that any East Ender would know meant trouble. “My patience has limits.”

Eliza put her hand on Jack's shoulder. “Why don't we go back into the dining room and let the Professor have dinner? It will give all of us a chance to calm down. And you can ask your questions while he's eating. I am sure everything can be straightened out. Please, Jack. Do this one thing for me. For your little Lizzie.”

“What the devil is this?” Higgins wiped the tears of laughter from his cheeks. “When did you have the time to take up with a Scotland Yard detective?”

“Inspector Shaw is my cousin,” Eliza said.

Her reply set off another wave of laughter. “What next?” Henry said. “Are you going to tell us that you're the sister of the Russian Czarina?”

Eliza turned to Jack. “Couldn't your questions wait until everyone's had a good night's sleep?”

He shook his head. “Murder has a way of upsetting people's dinner plans and their sleep.” Jack turned to Higgins with a grim expression. “You leave me no choice, Professor Higgins. I am afraid that I must place you under arrest for the murder of Emil Nepommuck.”

Eliza fell back a step, stunned. Higgins stopped laughing. For once in his life, the Professor was speechless.

She wished the same were true for Freddy. “One language teacher dead, the other arrested,” he blurted out in dismay. “Damnation, Eliza. Mother will never let us marry now!”

 

SEVEN

After a lifetime spent avoiding the coppers' attention, Eliza was not happy to find herself once again at Scotland Yard. She could scarcely believe both she and the Professor had been viewed as murder suspects in the past twenty-four hours. Life was brutish in the East End, but it seemed far simpler.

“If you don't stop pacing, Eliza, you will rub the wax off the floorboards of this office.” Henry's mother sat on a chair facing the room's only desk. “Inspector Shaw already appears to have a grievance against us. We don't need to add to it by marring his lovely floor.”

Eliza collapsed in a heap onto the chair beside her. The older woman sat as calm and motionless as a statue. Eliza's insides boiled, however. Bad enough that Jack dragged Henry off to Scotland Yard last night, but the Professor's cavalier attitude only worsened the situation. Did the man take nothing seriously aside from the study of phonetics?

She wanted to hit him over the head for not explaining what he was doing at the Victoria Embankment. Or why that Boer War veteran thought Higgins was about to throw himself into the river. She could hardly blame Jack for arresting him. For while she knew the Professor could never have killed Nepommuck, to an outside observer Higgins had a strong motive and a flimsy alibi.

“I don't understand how you can remain so calm,” Eliza said in a hushed voice, although there was no one to overhear. The two women sat alone in the room. Higgins had been taken for questioning elsewhere in the Yard, and Jack had let them stay in his office all morning.

Mrs. Higgins sighed. “My dear, you have only known my son for a matter of months. Let me assure you that Henry can be as exasperating as the Mad Hatter. I suspect that the police will be eager to release him, if only to put a halt to his incessant talking.”

The office door swung open. Colonel Pickering and Major Redstone stalked in, both looking as agitated as Eliza felt. “Have you heard anything?” she asked.

Pickering shook his head. “Only what the sergeant out front has been saying since we arrived. After being kept in a holding cell last night, Henry was brought to the interrogation room about five hours ago. He has been there ever since.”

“I hope Jack hasn't let Grint and Hollaway question him.” Eliza shuddered at the memory of how viciously both detectives treated her yesterday during her interrogation.

“It appears that Inspector Shaw is handling the situation himself.” Pickering leaned against the cherry wood desk, its surface covered with bulging stacks of files, all securely bound. “And I have been doing what I can. I contacted the finest barrister in London, in case this absurd mess is actually brought to trial.”

“Why can't the Professor explain exactly where he was yesterday during the time of the murder?” Eliza asked. “Someone must have seen him during the morning. This is London, after all, not the moors.”

“If Henry does not explain it adequately to the police, he had best explain it to me,” Mrs. Higgins said in a threatening tone.

What a shame the police didn't allow Henry's mother into that interrogation room, Eliza thought. She'd wring answers out of him.

Eliza hoped to persuade Jack that he ought to investigate the people with real motives for wanting the Hungarian dead. She had already told Jack that the Maestro boasted at the Embassy Ball about how he made his clients pay—and for more than lessons. Higgins had passed her off as a duchess just by changing her speech. Nepommuck could also have trained his students to take on another identity. Why weren't the police questioning them, rather than Professor Higgins? Especially if their newfound positions in society depended on Nepommuck keeping their secrets.

She got to her feet and paced once more, only now she had to weave in and around Major Redstone and Colonel Pickering.

Redstone touched her elbow. “Are you all right, Miss Doolittle? You seem a thousand miles away.”

She glanced up at him. “I wish I knew exactly where the Professor was yesterday.”

“Oh, I know what he was doing,” Pickering said. “He was walking the streets with not a care in his head. One day, he'll wander all the way to Dover. When he's listening to dialects, Henry is oblivious to everything else. He once found himself at a sheep shearing in Chesham. Had no idea how he'd gotten there.”

Their exchange was interrupted when Jack Shaw hurried into the office. Her cousin's dark hair looked more unkempt than last night, and his eyes seemed bleary from lack of sleep. Eliza also noticed that he wore the same suit and tie, so he hadn't been home. Proof to her that Jack had been working on the case all night, even while Higgins was allowed to sleep in his cell. Her spirits lifted when he shot her a quick smile.

“What can you tell us about the Professor?” she asked.

He sat behind his desk with a sigh, clearly exhausted. “Still trying to get clear answers from him.”

“You do have a witness, though.”

“Corporal Ted Trent? That's not good enough and you know it. In fact, it makes his innocence harder to prove.”

“Why is that?” Pickering asked.

“Higgins could not have been looking out over the Thames for the better part of a day. If that was true, why can't we find anyone to corroborate that? Trent was only there a matter of five minutes or so himself. And the Professor's comment about feeling guilty is especially damning.” Jack looked at Mrs. Higgins. “I am sorry, ma'am. I'm doing all I can.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that, Inspector.”

“Let me talk to him,” Eliza said. “Maybe I can pinpoint where he walked.”

“I saw how well he reacted to your questions last night, Lizzie.” Her cousin rubbed his eyes. “I'm giving him a little time to stew about things. Plus he's insisting on his late morning tea and biscuit. After he's done, I'll try again to get some helpful answers.”

Eliza caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned toward the open door. Blimey, Mary Finch was here, with her husband trailing behind her.

A moment later Mary entered the room in a fury. She looked the very picture of an avenging widow, completely garbed in black silk save for kid gloves the color of butter. Eliza shook her head. Leave it to Mary to be unable to resist a spot of bright yellow even when in mourning.

Mrs. Higgins raised one of those gloved hands accusingly at Jack, knocking her feathered hat askew. She straightened it without a word.

“Where are you keeping that cold-blooded killer? I want to see him so I can spit in his face.”

Jack got to his feet, his expression beyond weary. “May I ask who you are?”

“Mrs. Cornelius Finch.”

“Mary was one of the Maestro's students,” Eliza said. She flashed him a meaningful look. “And a very close friend.”

Cornelius Finch stood behind Mary. “My wife and I were students of Emil Nepommuck and Miss Doolittle.”

“Yes, and we've come here to make certain that monster is not set free. I knew Professor Higgins was a brute, but to think he actually stabbed the poor Maestro!” Mary began to weep. “That noble, goodhearted soul who never harmed anyone.”

Cornelius handed her his handkerchief. “You're the Detective Inspector assigned to investigate Maestro Nepommuck's murder, am I right?”

“That's correct.”

“We heard you arrested the killer, sir.”

“And who might that be?” Jack asked.

“Professor Higgins, of course,” Cornelius said. “My wife was so upset when she heard of Nepommuck's death that she insisted on confronting Higgins herself. But when we arrived at his home this morning, no one was there save the servants. They told us he'd been arrested for the murder.”

“Mary, I can assure you the Professor did not kill anyone,” Eliza said. “The two men only had a disagreement the day of your lesson.”

“Disagreement? More like a battle royal, Miss Doolittle.” Mary blew her nose and then flung the handkerchief at her husband. “You insufferable brat. You're the cause of this whole thing.”

“What?” Pickering, Redstone, and Eliza all said at the same time.

“The trouble began when Miss Doolittle left that monster Higgins and went to work for the Maestro. The Professor was so enraged about what she'd done that he interrupted our lesson and scared the life out of me. Thank heavens the Maestro came to my rescue, only to have Higgins vilify the poor man. You were there, Miss Doolittle. Tell the Inspector what he said.”

“Everyone knows the Professor has a temper, but he had good reason to be upset.”

“He had no reason to act like a barbarian! I assure you, Inspector, that Professor Higgins sorely abused poor Emil. Do you know that after he accused the Maestro of stealing Miss Doolittle away, he threatened to throttle him? And he actually wondered why someone hadn't plunged a dagger in his back.” Mary fought back further tears. “Then the Professor claimed that he might stab him. How much proof do you need, Inspector?”

Eliza bit her lip. She had hoped no one would remember those damning words said by Higgins during the argument with Nepommuck.

Jack nodded. “I am aware of what the Professor said that day, Mrs. Finch. I've been questioning him for hours. You haven't told me anything new.”

She seemed taken aback. “Then you know he had the best reason to murder the Maestro. He's guilty.”

“But was he the
only
one who had a reason to want the man dead? I suspect not, Mrs. Finch. And until that question is answered to the law's satisfaction—and mine—I would be very cautious about proclaiming anyone's guilt.”

Colonel Pickering nodded in agreement. “Well said, Inspector.”

“But you did arrest him.” Cornelius Finch appeared confused.

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but at present we're only holding Professor Higgins for questioning. We do not have enough evidence to bring charges. He will be released later today.”

Eliza let out a huge sigh of relief while Mrs. Higgins whispered, “Thank heaven.”

Mary Finch stamped her foot. “He killed the Maestro!”

“Young woman, you really must desist,” Pickering said.

Jack put up his hand to stop anyone else from joining in. “Did you witness the actual crime, Mrs. Finch?”

“Of course not.”

Eliza wanted to slap the woman silly. “Then you have no reason to claim he's a murderer. He didn't murder the Maestro's reputation, either, if what was printed in the newspaper is true.”

“We're still investigating that as well.” Jack straightened his suit coat. “If even half of that
Daily Mail
article is accurate, then Emil Nepommuck had more than enough enemies.”

“I've been saying that all along,” Eliza said. The look Mary Finch shot her was so filled with hate, she took a step back.

“Perhaps you should look for another motive in all this, Inspector,” Mary said. “I would not be surprised to learn that Professor Higgins was in love with Miss Doolittle and killed the Maestro in a fit of jealous rage.”

Pickering gave a rude snort, while Mrs. Higgins rolled her eyes in disbelief. Even Jack fought back a grin.

Eliza took a deep breath. “You know, Mary, I'd think twice about throwing out that bit about killing in a jealous rage. The only man who had reason for such a thing is your own husband.”

“How dare you!” Mary cried, but before she could go on, Cornelius laid a warning hand on her shoulder.

“I think we should go.” He looked even unhappier than his wife.

Mary glared at them. “I see how it is. There will be no justice done, not with the police so cozy with Higgins's family and friends. I intend to stop at the
Daily Mail
office. Perhaps the newspapers will have a different view of his guilt or innocence. Henry Higgins deserves to be strung up without even the luxury of a trial.”

Mrs. Higgins turned to face the younger woman. “Have a care, Mrs. Finch. If you utter one more word impugning my son's innocence, I will see to it that my solicitors serve you and your husband with papers accusing you of libel.”

“Don't threaten me—”

“Hold your tongue, Mary.” Cornelius squeezed her shoulder once more. This time, Eliza saw her wince from pain.

Mrs. Higgins stared the Finches down for a fearsome moment, before turning her attention to Jack. “Is it possible for me to see my son now, Inspector?”

“No reason why you shouldn't, ma'am.” He scribbled something on his notepad. “Give this to the sergeant sitting at the hall desk. He'll take you to him.”