Chapter 8 #2
“No! Good lord, don’t spread that about. Miss Newman would murder me, if her brothers don’t get to me first.”
“Your affair with Mrs. Corrin isn’t new information,” Harry went on. “Mrs. Jeffry told us she saw her leave your room.”
“Just the once. One time doesn’t make an affair. It’s an interlude.” Mr. Symond shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It was a momentary lapse on both our parts. Neither of us is interested in the other. We are not in love, so there was no reason for jealousy.”
“Then why don’t you want Miss Newman to know?”
“Or her brothers?” I added.
“Dorcas is an agreeable woman most of the time, but she does tend to fly off the handle over little things,” Mr. Symond said.
I didn’t think an affair was a little thing, even if it occurred just the once.
“Also, if Dorcas gets upset, her brothers get upset,” he went on. “They’re very protective of her, which is only natural. Now that we are betrothed, however, it will be up to me to protect and provide for her.”
“Congratulations,” Harry said. “We didn’t realize you were engaged.”
“Not many people do. In fact, our future marriage is why I left my last client early yesterday. I took an omnibus to the shop, collected Miss Newman, then we went off to look at a flat with a view to leasing it. We hope to move in together after we’re wed.”
“What shop is that?” I asked.
“Her family’s butcher shop. It’s in Bloomsbury, too, although not close to where I lodge.
Her brothers run it. Dorcas helps them from time to time.
” He shifted in the chair again, and bit on his lower lip.
“I haven’t informed Mrs. Jeffry that I’m moving out, and I’m afraid I haven’t paid last month’s rent.
That’s why I didn’t inform you yesterday while she was there.
I didn’t want her to know I plan to leave. ”
“Without paying her,” Harry added.
Mr. Symond put up both hands. “I’ll pay what I owe, of course, but just before I move out. Mrs. Jeffry will make my final weeks there miserable if she knows I’m not staying. She has a vindictive streak.”
Harry removed his notebook from his pocket. “What’s the address of the butcher shop? We’d like to confirm your alibi.” He wrote down the address Mr. Symond gave him, then asked for the details of the landlord who showed them the flat.
Mr. Symond patted his jacket pockets. “I’ll give you the telephone number for his place of work, as he only goes to the flat to show prospective tenants.” He found the piece of paper he was looking for and handed it to Harry. “It was well located, but we won’t be moving in. The rent was too high.”
Harry slipped the paper into his notebook then closed it. “Thank you for your time.”
Mr. Symond rose as we stood. “I must say, I don’t know why you’re checking all of our alibis when you know who did it.”
“Just being thorough,” Harry assured him. “Scotland Yard is paying our consultancy fee, and we want to ensure we make it worth their while.”
“Ah, getting value for money is something I do understand. My clients always want to know what they’ll get when their premiums go up, which they inevitably do.” He walked us through the corridors, past offices, to the main foyer then waved us off.
We made our way to the address of Newman Butchers.
Located in a fashionable part of the city, its customers would be affluent, and business must be going well given the shop’s size and prominent corner position.
We arrived when it was quiet, however. Butchers did most of their trade in the mornings.
The smell of raw meat and the sight of joints, sausages and whole carcasses hanging from the ceiling behind the counter wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
It reminded me of our local butcher in Cambridge where I shopped when I lived there with my grandparents.
My grandmother always bought my grandfather’s favorite, ox tongue, even after his death, out of habit.
I hadn’t been inside one like it in almost a year.
Miss Newman wasn’t there, but the two men working behind the counter must be her brothers.
They were stocky like her, their jaws even squarer.
While the strong features made Miss Newman’s face rather mannish, they made the two men look thuggish.
I wouldn’t have been surprised to see them in an East End pub, or even a bare-knuckle boxing ring.
No wonder Mr. Symond was intimidated by them.
We waited for the only customer in the shop to leave before introducing ourselves. “We’re private detectives investigating the murder of Chester Bradbury.” Harry placed his business card down on the counter between the cash register and scales.
The shorter of the two men picked up the card, studied it, then handed it to his slightly taller brother who also studied it. He went to hand it back to Harry.
“Keep it,” Harry said. “We have some questions about your sister’s fiancé, Mr. Symond. The murder took place yesterday in the house where he lodges.”
The shorter brother jerked his head toward the door behind the counter, then he crossed his arms over his chest while the taller brother disappeared through the door.
Harry cleared his throat. “We’ve just come from—”
“Wait,” Mr. Newman the Shorter said.
We waited until the taller brother reappeared with his sister in tow.
“You two!” She paused upon seeing us, then with a scowl, joined her brother at the counter. The taller brother stood on her other side.
With their small, dark eyes glaring at Harry from beneath Neanderthal-like brows, I felt some sympathy for Mr. Symond.
It was no wonder he didn’t want anyone to find out about his affair with Mrs. Corrin.
Miss Newman might eviscerate him with a stinging rebuke, but her brothers might eviscerate him with the tools of their trade.
I eyed the meat cleavers and took a step back, hoping Harry would do the same. He did not.
“What do you want?” Miss Newman asked.
“We’ve just come from Mr. Symond’s place of work,” Harry said. “We wanted to clarify his alibi.”
Her stance softened, which seemed to be a signal for her brothers to relax, too. The taller one picked up a cleaver and began chopping off chunks from a joint of beef. The knife struck the chopping board with methodic thuds, the steady rhythm an ominous accompaniment to my racing heartbeat.
“So he finally told you,” Miss Newman said. “I warned him not to lie to you. The only reason he didn’t say anything at first was because he didn’t want Mrs. Jeffry to know he’s moving out soon.”
“He shouldn’t lie to her either,” Mr. Newman the Shorter said.
His sister rolled her eyes. “That’s irrelevant.”
“Goes to show his character.”
“Insurance men,” the other brother sneered before bringing the cleaver down with a decisive whack.
“What time was he with you?” Harry asked Miss Newman.
“He collected me just before twelve. Our appointment was for twelve-fifteen, and the flat is a good fifteen-minute walk. We had a look around and discussed it with the landlord, then we returned here.”
“What time did you arrive back?” Harry asked.
Miss Newman arched her brows in question at the brother still standing beside her.
“About twelve-forty,” he said. “Symond didn’t stay. He doesn’t like lingering around here. Can’t think why he doesn’t like our company.”
The cleaver struck the chopping board with a particularly loud thud, making my nerves jump. “We’re good company,” Mr. Newman the Taller said.
I drew in a breath in an attempt to settle my nerves. “Did you see Mr. Symond collect your sister?” I asked them both.
“Aye,” said the shorter brother.
“So did I,” added the taller one with another nerve-shattering strike of his knife.
Harry thanked them both and we went to leave, but Miss Newman asked us to wait. She emerged from behind the counter and joined us.
“I suggest you take a closer look at Mrs. Corrin,” she said. “There’s something not right about her. Don’t you agree, Miss Fox?”
“Me?” I asked.
“You’re a woman. We sense certain things about other women.”
Did she know that Mrs. Corrin had a brief affair with her fiancé, and was she trying to discover if we knew? Or did she merely suspect and was fishing for more information before confronting him?
“She seems confident,” I said carefully.
“Confident! She’s a whore, that one.”
Both brothers stared wide-eyed at their sister.
She didn’t notice. “Mrs. Corrin was only with Mr. Bradbury for the pirate treasure. She’s as stupid as she is tarty.
She thought his boasts were real, but anyone with eyes and a brain could tell he was just saying that to get her attention.
The fool knew she’d only be interested in him if he was rich, so he told her he was going to get his hands on Blackheart’s famous missing treasure. ” Miss Newman rolled her eyes.
“Are you sure she believed him?” Harry asked.
Miss Newman crossed her arms again, defensive. “It’s obvious. Their engagement came after a very brief acquaintance. Also, Mrs. Corrin wouldn’t bother with a dull man like Chester Bradbury unless there was something in it for her.”
It seemed she didn’t suspect her fiancé had been with Mrs. Corrin. She simply didn’t like the other woman.
Harry and I left and went in search of a silence cabinet to make the telephone call to the landlord with the vacant flat to lease.
The more I thought it through, however, the more confident I was that he’d confirm Mr. Symond’s alibi.
The Newman brothers did not seem to like him, so I doubted they’d lie for him even if their sister would.
The first chemist we came upon had a silence cabinet available to the public to use for a small cost. Harry and I squeezed into it and listened through the earpiece as the operator connected us to the number Harry gave her.
A soft male voice crackled down the line.
He confirmed he’d seen Mr. Symond and Miss Newman the day before and the appointment lasted no more than fifteen minutes.