The Case of the Good Employer by Christopher Bush

Author:Christopher Bush
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2022-03-12T16:00:00+00:00

DEATH IN ST. JOHN’S WOOD FIRE

CHARRED BODY FOUND

There was another picture of the house, much like the first, but taken from a different angle. There was no real news: just a rehash of the original story.

In the morning my two papers had just a little more. The body hadn’t been identified but the police expected developments in the course of the next few hours.

I was half-an-hour early at the Agency and found Hallows waiting for me. He told me confidentially that there wasn’t any doubt about the arson. The fire had definitely been started in an upstairs room. He showed me a plan of the upper floor. The ground-floor debris had shown which had been Woode’s bedroom. I was able to confirm.

“There was another bedroom beyond,” he said. “Direct entry, as you see, from the corridor and another from Woode’s bedroom. A sort of communicating door. Judging from the debris, that room was unfurnished except for an easy chair and an electric fire, but there were pictures on the walls. Just how many we don’t know but may be four—even five. They were probably oils. At any rate we’re pretty sure it was in that room that the fire was started.”

“Anything about that Monet?”

“Been too busy,” he said. “There’ll be more time this afternoon.”

“And nothing else about the body?”

“Not a thing. Still, we’re expecting another police visit this morning.”

He left and all I had was still another query. Over the coffee break I did some thinking about it. What exactly was the reason for that almost empty room where the fire had been started? An electric fire to ward off damp, maybe, but against what? Just a few pictures on the walls and a solitary chair? Surely not.

It didn’t take long to find an answer. That room had simply been a store room for surplus or unwanted furniture. But, if so, why lock it? And hadn’t someone told me that other rooms upstairs were locked? I didn’t remember. But there was no forgetting that other locked room—the downstairs one with the Monet.

I wondered if it would be just a bit dangerous to ring Daisy Trice again but finally I rang. Once more it was the husband, Albert, who answered.

“She isn’t at home, sir. It’s in connection with the fire. You’ve heard about that, sir?”

“Indeed I have. A dreadful business. But about your wife. You say she’s out?”

“Yes, sir. Two police officers called a few minutes ago and asked her if she’d mind going to Scotland Yard. They were very nice about it, sir.”

I didn’t say a word about locked rooms: I just let the conversation slide gracefully away till I could ring off. I sat back in the chair again.

Scotland Yard was interested in the death of Charles Freeman, which they wouldn’t have been—at least so soon—if that death had been an accident. It looked as if anyone who might have information was being questioned. Hitchman would definitely be one, and somehow I couldn’t see how he could avoid mentioning me.

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