Lady Alkmene Collection: Four fabulous 1920s murder mysteries you won’t want to miss!. Vivian Conroy

gesturing widely as he called, ‘I know what the dead man was holding in his hand. What it was that got snatched away from him by the killer. Now we can be sure Evelyn Steinbeck is at the heart of it all.’

      Alkmene snapped On Rigor Mortis shut and asked, ‘So?’

      Jake glanced at the butler, who was still standing at the door, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish out of water.

      ‘You can go now, Brookes. Please close the door,’ Alkmene said quietly and put the volume on the side table. She patted the pillow beside her. ‘Sit down.’

      Jake gestured. ‘I am soaking wet; I had better stand.’

      ‘Don’t be silly.’ She rose and walked over to the fireplace. ‘Here, you can sit on this stool. The fire will get you warmed and dried up in no time.’

      Jake followed her and sat down. Still standing she was now towering over him. He extended his hands to the fire and smiled as he felt the heat. Waiting for him to speak, she straightened her father’s collection of marble elephants on the mantelpiece. He usually brought one from every trip to the east, and had gathered quite a herd of them.

      At last, as Jake kept silent, she prompted, ‘What did Norwhich have in his hand?’

      ‘A birth certificate. I have looked at several, and that bit of paper definitely came from one of them.’

      ‘Whose birth certificate?’

      ‘No idea. But what if Evelyn Steinbeck wasn’t his niece? Or she wasn’t even Evelyn Steinbeck, but someone pretending to be her? I mean, an actress could play any part. I think we have to interview her as soon as we can to find out who she really is.’

      ‘As if she is going to tell us.’ Alkmene blew a strand of hair from her face. ‘By the way, I have your handkerchief for you – like you asked.’

      She left the room to go get it. She was a bit nervous about her deception succeeding, so decided to get it over with as soon as possible.

      As she came back into the room, Jake was stirring up the fire, sending sparks dancing into the chimney. He really had to be cold. She had not even noticed it had begun to rain. The house’s walls were so thick they kept out any sounds of the street.

      ‘Here.’ She handed him the parcel.

      He opened the brown paper at once and checked the handkerchief, folding it open, turning it over.

      Her heart beat like strikes on an anvil. He’d see through her ruse at once and expose her, making this very painful.

      ‘I don’t see any tea stains any more,’ Jake said. He glanced up at her. ‘Lemon juice?’

      Lemon juice? Did that work against tea stains?

      ‘Uh, no.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Secret recipe, like your fish thing, you know. From my Irish nanny. Foolproof.’

      He nodded slowly.

      She had no idea if he was buying it. In his line of work he had to have experience with squirming, lying people and maybe he could make out a half-truth or lie from a mile in the distance.

      ‘So I guess I should never use this again, huh?’ he said. ‘Have to keep it pristine, as a memento.’ With that he put it in the inner pocket of his jacket.

      Alkmene rubbed her clammy palms. ‘So do you want anything to drink? I can ring for coffee. I think Cook also made ginger cookies.’

      Jake shook his head. ‘I had a big dinner.’ He nodded in the direction of her half full dessert bowl. ‘Yours wasn’t any good?’

      She flushed. ‘I meant to finish it, but I got sidetracked by the rigor mortis.’

      ‘And?’

      She shrugged. ‘Doesn’t seem to say all that much. I guess we would be better off if we knew exactly what the room looked like in which the dead man was found.’

      ‘Et voila.’ Jake reached into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper for her. ‘I had that big dinner I just mentioned with Norwhich’s manservant who found the body in the morning. On his night off he didn’t mind me treating him to something nice while he dug in his memory for worthy details of the fatal night. I drew the map myself while we were talking and had him correct me if I was wrong.’

      Alkmene accepted the paper and looked over it. It represented a square room, with the door on the upper long side. On the lower long side two windows were indicated. ‘Were the curtains closed that night?’ she asked.

      Jake nodded. ‘There were even blinds on the inside, which were always closed at night. Not much light got to the outside, let alone a glimpse of what was happening inside that room.’

      ‘All right. So we cannot hope for a passer-by who caught a look or even a snooper who is prepared to accept money in exchange for what he saw. We could have advertised, you know, to ask for information. But with the blinds that would be no use. Now there is the desk…’ Alkmene trailed her finger over the square on the left hand short side. ‘The back of his chair was to the wall?’

      ‘Yes, he faced out to the room when he was sitting behind it.’

      ‘So not likely someone sneaked up from behind and clubbed him while he was sitting there. The visitor coming in would have entered here and walked to here.’

      She followed the intended path with her finger from the door on the top of the sheet to the desk on the lower left. ‘And where is the fatal fireplace?’

      ‘To the right. It is in the same wall as the fireplace on the other side in the drawing room. The manservant said it had a solid rim with a sharp edge. A maid who was cleaning had once hurt her hand on it, he recalled. It cut a gash right through her skin.’

      ‘I see.’ She tried to put herself in the room, see all the details. ‘Walls covered with bookcases?’

      ‘Yes. I asked if anything seemed to be missing. He said some books had been pulled off the shelves and were lying on the desk, but more like the master himself had been doing work, research or something, sooner than someone overturning the room. He often worked late at night in that very room.’

      ‘I see. What about paperwork on the desk?’

      ‘The usual. It seems Mr Silas Norwhich was interested in the history of Dartmoor. He had many books on it, also with folktales, and was writing up some notes on it. That explains the ink on his fingers.’

      ‘Dartmoor?’ Alkmene said with a frown. She had expected him to work on accounts or something, a businesslike thing. They had even speculated that he might have been writing a cheque because he had been blackmailed. And now it was notes on folktales from Dartmoor?

      Jake nodded. He aligned the poker that he had put back in place after stirring up the fire. ‘The manservant said his master had always been fascinated by Dartmoor. It seems he regularly travelled to a small village there. Cunningham. The last time he came back he was very excited. The servant didn’t know what for.’

      Alkmene frowned. It might have been nothing, or it could be a vital lead. ‘He might have told his niece. Evelyn Steinbeck should know more about it.’

      Jake nodded. ‘She should be our focus now.’

      ‘And the birth certificate?’

      ‘I intend to find out whose it was of course. I think Silas Norwhich might have gone through his lawyer Mr Pemboldt to get it, so I also need to see him as soon as I can.’

      The jangle of the doorbell shocked Alkmene into full alertness.

      ‘Expecting somebody?’ Jake asked with an innocent look that lit her fire.

      ‘Nobody,’ she retorted and walked to the door to listen as the butler opened up. It would be unfortunate if it was Freddie or another of her acquaintances. The visitor would have to be introduced to Jake and she was not quite sure how to explain knowing