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

at Jake. ‘Same thing for you, I suppose.’

      Jake sat upright, staring in the distance, probably rehearsing his part. She wanted to probe what his plan was, but the door had already opened and the senior clerk took them to see Mr Pemboldt.

      Upon entry Alkmene realized two things. No way was Mr Pemboldt Evelyn Steinbeck’s suitor. No young woman would cast a second look at the short man with wrinkled face, rimmed spectacles and almost no hair.

      And how on earth had he travelled to America to find her and take her out here? He didn’t even look able to get up from behind that desk and greet them. He swayed a little as he stood, and the hand he extended was shaking.

      He had to be eighty!

      Jake seemed to be taken aback by the wiry figure as well. He seated himself and cleared his throat. ‘I uh…’

      ‘We have heard that you are a very good lawyer,’ Alkmene cut across him. A somewhat gentle touch was needed here. If Jake twisted this old man’s arm, they might have another corpse on their hands! ‘Mr Silas Norwhich was so happy with your services.’

      Pemboldt shifted his weight. His expression was inscrutable, but then as a lawyer he had probably trained himself to show no emotion whatsoever.

      He said stiffly, ‘I have served his family all my life. His father before him and then he. It was an honour to do so.’

      Jake leaned his elbows on his knees. ‘Yes, family… That meant a lot to Mr Norwhich. You found his niece for him. The long-lost relative he had been looking for.’

      Pemboldt blinked a moment. He reminded Alkmene of the reptiles in the London Zoo, patiently waiting on their branches, looking sluggish and harmless, until they suddenly moved with lightning speed to snatch their prey. If he had set up the entire impersonation scheme, he was more dangerous than he looked.

      The old man said, ‘He was very happy when we found her for him.’

      ‘Just so he could have an heir?’ Alkmene asked.

      Pemboldt smiled. ‘It was much more to him, Lady Alkmene. His money wasn’t his concern foremost, but…doing what was right.’

      ‘Do you believe he died, knowing he had done it?’ Jake asked. ‘The right thing, I mean.’

      Pemboldt looked pained. He leaned back, considering his answer before he spoke. ‘I am not sure. He died suddenly and…in a shocking way. It is very painful for me to discuss, because of my office’s long service to his family. I trust you will understand this. I would like to hear, Lady Alkmene, how I may serve you. I heard it was a delicate matter?’

      Alkmene smiled. ‘It is very simple, Mr Pemboldt. Mr Norwhich told my father how happy he was that you had tracked down his niece and reunited them. Apropos, I believe you did not travel to America yourself to find her?’

      ‘No, a very promising young lawyer from my firm did. Fitzroy Walker.’

      Alkmene shocked upright. FW… The one who had given the golden locket to Evelyn Steinbeck? The man who had also proposed to her?

      Pemboldt said, ‘My gout doesn’t permit me to make long journeys any more. I prefer to stay here and see that the business continues to run properly. My staff is excellently equipped to handle the interests of our clients.’

      ‘I did hear…’ Alkmene said slowly, as if she was reluctant to share a bit of gossip, ‘that the man in question, this Mr Walker, your employee, was pursuing the young lady’s affections. I do find this a little…unconventional, considering the way in which they met and the official capacity he had towards her.’

      Mr Pemboldt reddened. ‘They have spent time together in America and during the journey back here and that might have put the idea in the young man’s head, but I assure you the young lady has reminded him of his place and their relationship has never been…anything worth mentioning.’

      Alkmene was certain Mr Walker didn’t hold this view.

      Jake sat half turned away from them and the conversation, looking at a cabinet with gleaming trophies along the wall. ‘I see you have been in the army, Mr Pemboldt. India, I think?’

      Pemboldt smiled; he suddenly seemed to grow. ‘Yes. Several campaigns. Lovely country. Great climate, nice people. Excellent polo fields.’

      Alkmene asked, ‘Your rank was major?’

      Pemboldt nodded. ‘How do you know?’

      ‘I once heard Ms Steinbeck refer to you as the major.’

      Pemboldt flushed again. ‘That is a most irritating habit of Mr Walker’s. He started to refer to me that way, and the entire staff followed his example. I assure you I try to discourage it, but you know how young people are these days. It is not what it used to be any more.’

      Alkmene nodded polite agreement, but her mind raced. So the major, being Pemboldt, might not have given the money if Walker married Ms Steinbeck. That all fitted together. They were on the right track here. The question was, how much had Pemboldt known of what Walker was doing?

      When he had just denied that the personal relationship between Walker and Ms Steinbeck was anything serious, had he been lying to cover up an illicit affair?

      Or did he really believe it was over, while Walker had kept on pursuing Ms Steinbeck without his employer’s knowledge?

      Jake said, ‘I suppose your time in India taught you about subterfuge? I mean, you must have been cunning to survive out there.’

      Pemboldt seemed to relax again as if this topic of conversation was safe. ‘I guess you could put it that way. I always tried to find a solution for the problem at hand, yes. The best answer to a tricky situation.’

      ‘And finding a fake heir for Silas Norwhich was the best you could do?’ Jake’s tone had not changed; it was still pleasantly conversational, as if he was simply continuing the theme of India.

      But the old man paled under his words and was staring at him in shock.

      Jake continued, ‘Ms Steinbeck is no more related to Mr Norwhich than I am, or Lady Alkmene here. She was only…shall I say, cast, to play the part. I am sure that was the best you could do, Mr Pemboldt, but I admit that I am hard pressed to fit your “solution” with your proclaimed loyalty to the family you served for so many years.’

      Pemboldt kept staring. His lips began to tremble. He reached for the bell on his desk to ring for one of the clerks, probably to see them out.

      But then he pulled his hand back again, his fingers shaking.

      He breathed deep, then pushed both of his hands to his face. ‘If only he had not died that night. Then it would have worked perfectly.’

      Jake cast a glance at Alkmene. She signalled him to give it a moment and wait if the old man went on of his own accord.

      Pemboldt pulled his hands down and looked at them. ‘What do you want with this? Make a scene? Ruin my firm? Ruin the young lady also? I can assure you that Evelyn Steinbeck is innocent of any form of bad intent. She had no idea what she was getting into when she agreed to be part of this.’

      Alkmene shook her head. ‘We are not here to hurt anyone. We are only interested in finding Mr Norwhich’s killer.’

      Pemboldt bit his lip. ‘So you do not believe that he fell and struck his head either.’

      Jake shook his head. ‘He was murdered. We want to find out by whom and what for. If you really served his family well, Mr Pemboldt, and have a sense of honour, you will help us now.’

      Pemboldt stared at his trembling hands. Then he said, ‘Yes, I must. But you must promise me this. If nothing of it need come out in order to catch the killer, you will keep everything I am now about to tell you to yourself. No need to slander a dead man.’

      Jake nodded. ‘I agree. I give you my word. The matter will remain entirely between the three of us,