Agnes Lockwood Mysteries Collection

Chapter 13

At breakfast the next morning, Agnes couldn"t help scrutinizing each guest as they entered the Dining Room. Anyone of them could be the person stealing the jewellery. But then another, more frightening, thought struck her. The murderer could also be staying at this hotel. Therefore, anyone of them could be the murderer.

Last night, aware that someone seemed to have access to all the hotel rooms, she had taken the precaution of carefully placing her jewellery into her pillowcase for the night. They had been gifts from Jim, and were very precious to her.

But a thief was one thing, a murderer was something else altogether. Tonight she would place a chair in front of her door.

As she buttered her toast, her mind flew back to the woman she had spoken with the evening before. To be honest, Sergeant Andrews had done most of the talking, while trying to find out exactly what items were missing and when she had last seen them. However, Agnes had been able to comfort the woman, whose name was Brenda Arrowsmith, as she had tried to answer the detective"s questions.

Like Agnes, she was staying at the hotel alone. Her husband had died a couple of months ago and she had simply come to the hotel to get away from the empty house for a few days. “I miss Peter so much.”

Through her sobs, she told the sergeant how she had brought these particular pieces of jewellery with her as she"d had the dreadful thought that her house might be burgled while she was away. “The gold necklace was the last thing Peter bought for me. It was a gift for my birthday, two weeks before he died.” She paused. “I can"t believe it. I never thought for one moment it would be stolen from my hotel room.”

Agnes had held Brenda"s hand throughout the interview. She hadn"t said very much at all. Not because Sergeant Andrews had told her not to interfere with his questioning, but because the lump in her throat wouldn"t allow her say anything. She had felt so sorry for Brenda, but it had made her all the more determined to keep her own jewellery safe.

When Sergeant Andrews was satisfied he had all the necessary information he took his leave, promising Brenda the police would do their utmost to find out who had stolen her jewellery and have it returned as soon as possible. But Agnes had detected a note in the sergeant"s voice that said he didn"t really hold out much hope of that happening. The stolen jewellery was probably well away from the hotel by now. Taking a sip of her coffee, Agnes recalled how she had stayed with Brenda for almost an hour before returning to her room. The poor woman had been so upset; she hadn"t wanted to be left on her own.

Agnes was about to replace her cup on the saucer when she saw a man entering the dining room. She had seen him last night when she accompanied Sergeant Andrews to Brenda"s room. The man had smiled briefly and nodded towards Andrews as they passed in the corridor. But for some reason she had the impression the man looked a little startled when he saw her by the sergeant"s side. She had no idea why that should be. She couldn"t recall seeing him anywhere before. But there hadn"t been time to ask Sergeant Andrews about him, as a few seconds later they had approached Brenda"s room.

Agnes was still watching him as he hovered in the doorway. It was as though he couldn"t make his mind up whether to come in or not. After some moments, he made the decision and walked across to a table by the wall. He looked fairly young, quite tall and slightly built, all of which she had noticed the previous evening. But, while last night he had been wearing a casual outfit as though he had been to a club or even a party, this morning he was dressed in a very smart suit and carrying a briefcase. She wondered whether he was a businessman preparing to go to some important corporate meeting. He sat down and unfolded the newspaper he had been carrying under his arm. But as he began to open it he shifted his gaze to the people in the room.

Agnes looked away and hastily returned the cup, which she had held poised in mid air for several minutes, back onto the saucer. She hoped he hadn"t seen her peering at him. Attracting the attention of a passing waiter, she ordered more coffee. Perhaps the man would simply believe she had been looking around the room for a waiter.

The smartly-dressed young man continued to look at his fellow guests. Agnes watched his reflection through a mirror on the wall at the other end of the room; his eyes darted from one table to another. It was almost as though he was looking for someone. Maybe he was. He could well have been expecting someone to join him for breakfast. But then his gaze rested on Agnes. Even if she hadn"t been able to see him looking at her, she would have known he was watching her; she could feel his eyes boring into her back.

Agnes finished her coffee and left the Dining Room. As she turned into the reception area, she caught a brief glimpse of the man sitting at his table. He was still finishing his breakfast with his newspaper propped up in front of him. She wished Alan would arrive. Or even Sergeant Andrews. She really wanted to know who this man was and why he seemed to be taking such an interest in her.

Sergeant Andrews might recall seeing him the evening before. He may have even interviewed him regarding the stolen jewellery. However it was likely that both Alan and his sergeant would be caught up with the murder investigation now. No doubt the thefts would have been handed on to another officer.

Agnes decided to sit in the Drawing Room while she made up her mind what to do with herself for the rest of the day. When she had arrived, there were countless places she wanted to visit. In fact there had been so many on her itinerary, she had wondered how she might fit them all in. But at the moment, there were only two things on her mind: the body pushed from the window at Bessie Surtees House and the robberies here at the hotel. Well, there were three things, if she included the strange man in the dining room. She had only been sitting there for what a seemed like a few minutes when she saw Alan enter the hotel. She had chosen an armchair with a clear view of the main entrance, just in case he should call in. She waved and he strode straight across to join her.

“I understand you assisted my sergeant last night,” he said, pulling another chair closer to hers.

“I didn"t do much. I think I felt as sad as the poor woman.”

“Still, Andrews thought Mrs Arrowsmith was a little calmer with you there. At least she was able to answer his questions.”

Agnes saw the man from the dining room making his way across to the reception desk. “Don"t look now, but a man at the desk seems to know me from somewhere.”

She went on to explain how she had seen him the evening before and again in the dining room at breakfast this morning. “I just don"t understand. He was peering at me as though he was surprised to see me here at the hotel, yet at the same time he looked angry that I am here, if you see what I mean. I wondered whether you might have some idea who he is.”

Alan made a big thing of reaching into his back pocket so that he could turn his head without the man realizing he was looking at him. He glanced at the man standing at the desk and then back at Agnes. “No I don"t recall interviewing him. Andrews might have spoken with him. Did you mention it to him?”

“I didn"t get the chance. We arrived at Brenda"s room a few seconds after we saw him in the corridor. Anyway, how are you getting on with the murder enquiry,” Agnes changed the subject. She guessed Alan wouldn"t be able to stay long and she was curious as to what he had found out.

“We haven"t really got very far at all. That"s one of the reasons I"m here. I need to speak to the day shift. Last night, no one recognised her from the photograph, so we gather she didn"t ask for room service during the evenings. Andrews left a copy of the photo here, but so far, no one has come forward to say they recognize her.” Alan paused. “I could have left that to my sergeant, but the second reason is I wanted to let you to know I hadn"t forgotten you. I thought we could have dinner again somewhere and hope that, this time, we don"t find any bodies lying around the streets.”

“Yes, that would be lovely. But quite honestly, finding the body didn"t spoil the evening.” She coughed. “That didn"t come out how I meant it. Naturally I am sorry for the poor lady who was murdered, but before that happened I was having a very nice evening.”

Alan grinned. “It"s okay, I know what you mean. I enjoyed it, too.” He paused and glanced across towards the desk. The man Agnes had pointed out had finished his business with the receptionist and was now heading towards the lift. But then he stopped and looked around him. Alan turned his head away slightly so he could only see the man out of the corner of his eye. But he did see the guy stop in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of Agnes sitting there with him.

Fortunately, Agnes was looking the other way otherwise she would have seen the man glaring at her.

Alan was rather alarmed. Agnes was right; this man did seem to have a grudge against her. When she had first mentioned it, he had thought she might have been imagining things. But now he had seen it for himself. He decided there and then, that she needed some sort of protection. It crossed his mind that a constable should be allocated to watch out for her well-being. But what with cut backs and everything else going on in the force that would be too much to ask. No, he was going to have to call in a few favours. Meanwhile, he would check out this man"s credentials at Reception.

As he drove along the quayside to Bessie Surtees House, Chief Inspector Johnson thought back to what he had learned at the hotel. The lady who had been murdered the evening before was called Mary Swinburne. She had been staying at the hotel for the last week and was due to stay another four days. But during her stay, it seemed she kept herself very much to herself.

Apart from having most of her meals at the hotel no one had really seen much of her. She had either gone out for the day or spent much of the time in her room. It was one of the Dining Room waiters who had eventually put a name to the face and that was only because she had signed a receipt for the wine she ordered to have with her evening meal.

Once Alan had a name to go on, the reception was able to check the records and give him some of the information he needed. At least he now had a home address; it was somewhere to start.

His thoughts then drifted to the man Agnes had mentioned. The lady on the desk had told him his name was David Drummond and he had been at the hotel for about three days. “His details show that he is here on business,” she had said. “Though he did tell us he is also going to a friend"s stag party. I believe it"s someone he hadn"t seen for a while.”

Apart from that, no one knew much more about him. But then why should they? People who stay at a hotel don"t usually tell everyone their life"s history when they check in. Still, his attitude to Agnes was very strange. He seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her. Why was that? Agnes was a rather nice woman – correction, a very nice woman. What did this man have against her? Was there something Drummond knew about Agnes that he didn"t?

Alan rounded the corner and drove into Sandhill. Bessie Surtees House was on the left hand side and he could see a few people standing around the tape that marked off where the body had been found. Some were carrying cameras and were taking shots of the fading chalk outline on the ground where the body had lain. “Reporters,” Alan mumbled to himself, as he parked the car. He climbed out and walked across to the museum.

A police officer standing by the door nodded as he approached.

“Any problems here,” Alan asked.

“No sir,” the officer replied. “The reporters haven"t been here very long.” He pointed across the road to where a few lads were standing. “I"m not sure what they want; unless they"re just being curious. But they"ve been hanging around for about twenty minutes.”

Alan turned and looked across the street to where the officer was pointing. “Probably nothing,” he said. “But I"ll have a word.”

The lads shifted their feet uneasily as the chief inspector approached. “We haven"t done anything,” said one of them, stubbing out a cigarette.

“No one said you had,” said Alan, calmly. “My officer was simply wondering why you are all hanging around only a few feet from a murder scene.”

“We don"t know nothing about any murder,” another lad chirped in. “We"re here looking for work.” He pointed to the building behind them. “Job Centre sent us here. They said the foreman wanted some labourers. But he ain"t here yet.”

Alan looked at the building where large signs told the public that they were sorry for the inconvenience, but a new vibrant nightclub would be opening very soon. He nodded at the lads. “Okay. Good luck with the jobs.”

Back across the road, he told the officer there seemed to be nothing to worry about. “Nevertheless, keep an eye on them to make sure they weren"t just screwing me around. I"m going to take a look upstairs.”

Inside the museum, Alan went straight up to the room where the body had been thrown from the previous evening. The scene of crime officers had confirmed that all the windows had been tightly shut.

Sergeant Andrews was going to speak to all the key holders that morning. But quite honestly, Alan realised that no one was going to admit to being here last night or to having loaned the key to anyone.

He looked out of the window and down onto the street. The reporters were still milling around outside. They were probably waiting for him to come back to give them all the information they needed to satisfy their readers. Shifting his gaze to across the street, he could see the four lads talking to someone. It was probably the foreman. He was holding up three fingers. If that meant there were only three jobs going, then one lad was going to be very unlucky. Perhaps, they would be able to work out a deal where the building site employed four labourers for the price of three.

Alan sighed, as he turned back to face into the room. He had a case to solve. But where did they start with this one? Using his fingers, he counted off what the police knew. One: there was a body. Two: the victim had been shot and thrown from this window. He and Agnes had seen that happen last night – well almost. Three: there was no blood found in the room. Four: the Scene of Crime Officers team had found no trace of blood in the entire building. Five: According to the curator, the windows and doors were all locked before he went home that evening. Yet the murder must have taken place here. Why would anyone carry a dead body up here only to throw it from this window back down onto the street? It just didn"t make any sense. And then there was the question of how they got in.

The chief inspector paused realizing that he had come full circle and was back at the beginning. Until Andrews had spoken to the key holders and they had accounted for their whereabouts the evening before or Forensics could match any of the fingerprints taken last night, there wasn"t anywhere to start working the case.