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

‘Very well then. The thing is this…’ He took a moment to focus. ‘Mr Norwhich was obsessed with the idea he had an heir somewhere in the world. He himself never had any children, but he had had a younger brother, a rather wild young man, who caused no end of trouble to the family. One summer he was staying in Cunningham…’

      Alkmene perked up and looked pointedly at Jake.

      Pemboldt didn’t seem to notice, staring into the distance as he reminisced, ‘A little town in Dartmoor. There he fell in love with a local girl. Now he was known to fall in love at whim, profess undying affection for the girl and then fall in love with another. So his family didn’t take his letters home very seriously. Unfortunately, as things go in life, this time it was different. He had really fallen in love and he secretly married the girl. She was pregnant when he left her to go see his family in London, promising to be back again soon and buy them a little house with a rose garden.’

      Alkmene winced. A bakery, or a little house with a rose garden – men seemed to know exactly what to promise a woman to get their way. She did not dare glance at Jake, but focused on Pemboldt, who was continuing his story.

      The old man said, ‘Once in London he told his family the whole story and they were appalled. They didn’t believe he had acted in earnest and tried to persuade him not to go back to the girl. In fact, Silas Norwhich himself took his brother to France and installed him on a business venture there, making sure he had lots of money and parties to attend, and soon he was engaged to another and married. Of course that marriage was totally invalid, as long as his first marriage wasn’t annulled, and the woman in question alive.’

      Pemboldt rested his hands on his desk. ‘Now this is where it gets…bitter. Silas Norwhich went to Cunningham to look for his sister-in-law and persuade her to agree to set his brother free. He believed she had just married him for money and that the right amount of it could persuade her easily enough to step back and leave him to his new life in France. But when she didn’t want to, saying she loved her husband and wanted him to come back to her, Mr Norwhich threatened her with severe consequences if she did not set his brother free.’

      Pemboldt stared ahead. ‘Mr Norwhich was a man of strong temper and very protective of his family name. He threatened her, intimidated her, and that same day she vanished from the town. Rumour has it she wandered into the marshes and drowned. In any case, Silas Norwhich came back from his errand in Dartmoor, carrying a load of guilt. For a long time he talked to no one of it and his brother had a good life in France, but never had a child. He died eventually, of pneumonia. As he grew older, Silas became obsessed with finding out what had happened to the woman in Cunningham and the baby. I should say, he became obsessed with the idea they had not died and could still be traced. He wanted to give them money to set the injustice of old straight. Money up front, and then his entire fortune, upon his death. He was certain it was the only way to clear his conscience before he died, and he engaged me to achieve this aim.’

      Pemboldt focused on them again, his eyes weary. ‘I have tried to find out all I could, but I could not establish either the woman’s death or her survival. Meanwhile Silas’s obsession became so strong he was never doing anything else but reading up books about Cunningham, travelling there to see the land, tracking down people who remembered those days, et cetera. In the end I knew for sure there was but one way to stop it and that was to produce the child, the missing heir, to whom he could leave his fortune and set straight what he had done wrong.’

      He wet his lips. ‘I knew I would be creating a lie, but it pained me to see him burdened by this guilt, after so much time had passed. It had really been his brother’s wrongdoing, not his. His brother had never bothered to do anything about it, so why should Silas suffer for it? I only wanted to help him.’

      He sighed. ‘I had seen a photograph of this girl that his brother had then courted and I sent my most trusted employee Fitzroy Walker to look for someone who was just like her. I also insisted on her having a British mother who was deceased so the story would match the truth as much as possible. When Walker came back from New York with Evelyn Steinbeck, a burden was lifted off my shoulders. She seemed like a decent girl, who could play the part without causing trouble or making bad slips that could betray the secret. Once she was introduced to him, Silas was beyond happy and I was finally free to forget about the whole thing.’

      Pemboldt sighed again. ‘I guess his death so soon after his only heir was found made it all look so suspicious. I was worried the police would start an investigation, find out the truth and believe I had been a part of it from the start. That I had planted this false heir on him with a specific purpose. However, I consoled myself with the idea that I could prove that I would not benefit financially in any way, and my innocence would be clear to all.’

      Jake said, ‘But you did not know that your partner Fitzroy Walker was getting Evelyn Steinbeck to marry him so everything that was once Silas Norwhich’s would then be his. As an employee in your firm he must have had an excellent idea of how substantial Mr Norwhich’s riches were and how attractive the prospect of inheriting it all, via marriage to the fake heiress he had himself produced.’

      Alkmene saw the old man sway. She continued softly, ‘Yes, you had no idea of Mr Walker’s intentions, perhaps, but if he had pulled it off, it would have looked very bad for you indeed.’

      The old man sat up straight, his eyes blazing. ‘Then Fitzroy Walker must be the killer. He must have gone over to talk Silas into letting him marry his niece and when Silas refused… I know he will have refused, as he was a proud man who would never accept a simple lawyer as husband for his niece.’

      Jake beside her winced a moment.

      Pemboldt spoke, full of fire about his theory, ‘He must have pushed him so he fell and died. Even if he did not intend to kill him, he is guilty of wanting the niece and the money, of driving Silas into death.’

      Pemboldt’s voice broke. ‘I am guilty also for choosing Walker for the mission in America. He has a sharp mind and knows how to improvise, which seemed excellent for the delicate matter at hand. But when he set eyes on Evelyn Steinbeck, he must have believed that everything he normally would have to work for long years to earn was now within his grasp. He forgot all about Silas Norwhich’s anguish and our intent to help him. Instead he decided this was the ideal way to secure a future for himself.’

      Pemboldt swallowed hard. ‘I have delivered both my client and this innocent young woman into the hands of a vulture.’

      ‘It seems so,’ Jake agreed softly. He sat thinking, his feet planted apart, his hands on his knees. ‘Did you have any knowledge of an argument Silas Norwhich had at the theatre shortly before he died?’

      ‘Yes.’ Pemboldt flinched. He seemed to steel himself to be able to tell this part of the story to them. ‘Silas came here, raving mad. Just stormed into my office, while I was speaking with another client, demanded that the client leave, and I talked to him at once. I saw he was too angry to listen to reason, so I did what he asked without protest. As soon as we were alone, he told me that people claiming to be heirs to his fortune now pursued him and that the only way they could have found out about the tie with Cunningham was via me. I denied most strongly that I had ever shared anything with anyone that could have led people with such claims to his door, but he left, still convinced it was all my fault.’

      Jake asked sharply, ‘Someone came to see him claiming to be his heir, specifically mentioning Cunningham?’

      ‘Yes. I can assure you I never told anybody about the unhappy history. It must have been Walker again. I should never have involved him. I believed I could trust him completely, but I was so wrong.’ Pemboldt buried his head in his hands again.

      ‘Perhaps it was not your fault as much as you believe,’ Jake said. ‘We are very grateful for your honesty. And no word of this will ever be known to the public, unless it has to be revealed in a court of law to bring Silas Norwhich’s killer to justice.’

      ‘In that case,’ Pemboldt said in a stronger voice, ‘I would be the first to demand it would be revealed.’

      Jake rose. ‘We understand each other.’ He reached out and carefully