Just Murdered Read online

  ‘Wait a minute. You went and spoke to the landlady?’

  ‘It’s okay. She thinks I’m a friend of Barbie’s from the store. And that’s beside the point.’

  Steed took a deliberately loud bite of his toast.

  ‘The point is that van was the reason why Barbie was signalling to Mrs Meadows when she got home safely—Mrs Meadows thought someone was watching her.’

  ‘Probably just belonged to another resident. But’—Steed raised his voice to cut across Peregrine’s protest—‘how does Knox come into this?’

  ‘The Blair’s delivery vans are white and he has access to them. You need to talk to him.’

  Steed took another piece of toast from the rack and transferred it to his plate then paused, butter knife in the air. ‘I could point out that there are lots of white vans in the city and also that presumably Lewis Knox is not the only one with access to the Blair’s vehicles, but I’ll cut to the chase. Knox has an alibi for the day of the bridal show: Miss Astor had him running around and he was seen by a number of people. Even if he was fixated on Barbie Jones and sitting outside her home in the evenings, there’s no way he could have killed her.’

  ‘That’s the other thing I have to tell you.’ Peregrine lifted the lid of the teapot, examined its contents, then topped up her cup. ‘Violetta looked at the coroner’s report and she says Barbie Jones was killed at least twelve hours earlier than everyone thought.’

  Steed stared at her. ‘You’re not serious?’

  She nodded, then took him through Violetta’s analysis point by point, also explaining her idea that Dulcie Meadows may have been duped by someone else in a lime green dress and reminding him what one-armed Audrey had been wearing the last time they’d seen the storeman. ‘Which means Lewis Knox could have killed Barbie,’ Peregrine concluded.

  Steed looked at the half-eaten toast in his hand and dropped it back on the plate. ‘The whole investigation …’ He shook his head.

  ‘But now you know about the timing—and about the storeman—maybe things will start falling into place!’

  ‘I’ll talk to Knox, see what he has to say.’

  ‘And I’ll go and have a close look at that mannequin in the green dress!’

  ‘Miss Fisher …’

  ‘We can do it together, if you like. You’ve already admitted you know nothing about fashion, so I’m more than happy to advise you.’ The corner of Steed’s mouth twitched but he kept his voice stern. ‘If I can’t stop you from interfering, I may as well be there while you do it.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, Detective!’ Peregrine grinned. Then she caught sight of the large wall clock above the counter. ‘I have to get to Blair’s. Will you find me when you’re done with Lewis Knox?’ She stood and gathered up her bag.

  ‘I have a feeling you’ll find me first,’ said Steed wryly.

  Peregrine flashed him another smile then hurried from the cafe.

  James Steed remained where he was, staring at the cafe’s steamy window long after Peregrine had disappeared from view. He shouldn’t have agreed to let her keep investigating. In fact, that had been part of his reason for meeting Peregrine this morning: to tell her it was dangerous and not her business. To tell her she needed to stop. It was the right thing to do—for a lot of reasons—but … he hadn’t.

  It wasn’t just that he’d been caught up in her enthusiasm, or even because he enjoyed being in her company. Which he most definitely did. It was because Peregrine reminded him of her aunt: a younger, even more beautiful Miss Fisher. She had the same attitude to life, the same disregard for convention and—much as he hated to admit it, even to himself—the same ability to go places and do things he could not. While Steed had helped Phryne Fisher on a number of occasions, what he hadn’t told Peregrine was that her aunt had helped him just as much, if not more.

  James Steed had always believed in fighting for what was right. If that meant sometimes going outside the usual channels, sidestepping Sparrow and his agenda, then that’s what he would do. And if doing the right thing also meant partnering with Peregrine Fisher from time to time, well … he could handle that. Couldn’t he?

  As soon as she clocked on, Peregrine was swept up in the organisation and staging of a major new arrangement on the shop floor. The atrium, a vast area at the foot of the escalators used for large merchandising displays, was in the process of being restyled with the latest fashions and products, to be presented to customers as a walk-through array of All You Need and More for 1964! She was kept busy trotting back and forth, moving old display stock to sales counters or storage and bringing new items up for incorporation into the layout. On what must have been her eleventh or twelfth trip to the basement, Peregrine rounded a corner on the stairs, her arms full of artificial flowers, and walked straight into Pansy Wing. Pansy yelped and a cloud of silk daffodils cascaded across the landing.

  ‘Why don’t you watch where you’re going?’ Pansy snapped.

  Peregrine was about to snap back when she remembered she was supposed to be Penny Foster. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Wing.’ She dropped to the floor and began gathering up the flowers. ‘I didn’t expect anyone to be standing there.’ Peregrine stood and tipped her head to one side. ‘Are you okay? What are you doing here? Can I help with something?’

  Pansy flushed and her eyes darted sideways. ‘I was just looking for …’ She gestured behind her.

  Peregrine tilted her head to the other side.

  ‘Must be somewhere else,’ Pansy muttered before ducking around Peregrine and hurrying away, the clatter of her high heels echoing down the stairwell.

  Peregrine frowned at the retreating figure. What had Pansy been doing? The stairs were empty here, there was nothing to see, no one she could have been talking to … Peregrine moved to stand exactly where Pansy had been and then froze: she could hear voices. Glancing up at the wall behind her, Peregrine noticed she was standing directly below a small grille. Presumably it was there to help ventilation in the basement, but now it was working as a speaker, transmitting sound from the adjacent storage room into the stairwell. Pansy Wing had been eavesdropping.

  Leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes, Peregrine concentrated on the sounds drifting through to her. There were two male voices and it took her only a second to recognise the authoritative baritone of Detective Steed.

  ‘… company van,’ Steed was saying.

  There was a pause.

  ‘I only drive it for deliveries or when there’s errands to run.’ Lewis Knox’s obsequious whine was impossible to mistake.

  ‘What about at night?’

  ‘I never drive the van at night.’

  ‘And the night before Barbie Jones was killed?’

  ‘What?’ Knox’s voice cracked.

  ‘The night before the bridal fashion parade: did you take the van that night?’

  ‘N-n-no, I never—’

  ‘Mr Knox this is a murder investigation, so think very carefully about what you’re saying.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘Okay, yes. I had it that night. I was taking my girlfriend out.’

  ‘I’ll need a name.’

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘Were you seeing Barbie Jones?’ Steed’s voice was loud with the accusation.

  ‘Barbie? No!’

  ‘Were you following her? Had she rejected you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘A witness has reported seeing a white van parked outside Barbie Jones’s apartment at least twice a week over the past months. Are you telling me that wasn’t you?’

  ‘Of course it wasn’t me! I have a girlfriend.’

  ‘Then tell me her name so she can verify your story.’

  Peregrine had heard enough. She left the listening spot and descended the last few stairs, shoving open the door to the storage room with her hip.

  ‘Detective Steed!’ she called as she entered the space.

  ‘Miss Fish— Foster.’ Steed didn’t look thrilled to see her, but neith
er did he appear surprised. ‘Now is not really—’

  ‘Pansy Wing!’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  Peregrine dropped her armload of flowers and pointed at Lewis Knox. ‘His mystery girlfriend. It’s Pansy Wing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Really? Pansy Wing? How did you manage to … ? Never mind.’ Steed turned his attention back to the storeman. ‘Well? Is Miss Foster correct?’

  Knox cringed away from the detective. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Barbie Jones and Florence Astor were murdered and your refusal to cooperate is not doing you any favours. Right now, I have reports of a peeping Tom in a white van outside Barbie’s home and I have you in a white van you weren’t supposed to be driving at night. Who. Is. Your. Girlfriend? Or does she even exist?’

  ‘Just tell him.’

  The voice came from behind Peregrine.

  Pansy Wing shot Peregrine a look as she walked into the storage room. ‘I thought you’d work out what I was doing.’

  ‘Miss Wing!’ Knox exclaimed. ‘The detective was just—’

  Pansy cut him off. ‘It’s okay, Lewis. I’ll tell the detective what he wants to know.’ She crossed to the storeman and linked her arm through his, then lifted her chin to Detective Steed. ‘I’m Lewis’s girlfriend. Actually, I’m his fiancée. We’ve been keeping it secret because Blair’s has a no fraternisation policy and doesn’t employ married women as models.’

  ‘We’re trying to save for a house and Pansy makes good money,’ Knox added, smiling adoringly at her.

  Peregrine exchanged an incredulous look with Steed. Pansy Wing and Lewis Knox were an unlikely pairing, but they seemed to be telling the truth.

  ‘I must admit I’m surprised by this,’ said Steed, his eyes flicking between the elegant model and the strange storeman.

  Pansy’s chin came up. ‘Why? Everyone around here treats me like I’m a shop fixture, but not Lewis. He’s a decent man who’s kind and funny and sees me for who I really am, not just a dummy in a dress or something exotic. And he treats me like a queen!’

  ‘In that case, Miss Wing,’ Steed nodded politely at her, ‘perhaps you can tell me what you were doing the night before the bridal fashion parade.’

  ‘Lewis came over—’

  ‘In the Blair’s delivery van,’ Knox interjected.

  ‘In the Blair’s van and we went out to dinner. Then he brought me home early so I could get a good night’s sleep.’ She leaned her head on the storeman’s shoulder.

  Steed studied the two of them, frowning, letting the silence stretch.

  ‘You won’t tell anyone about us, will you?’ Pansy asked anxiously.

  ‘Not unless it’s relevant to my investigation. You can go now, but I might have more questions.’

  Peregrine stood back as the couple hurried from the room, then went to join Steed.

  ‘Did you see the look she gave him when he interrupted?’ Peregrine asked.

  ‘More to the point, I saw Knox dig her in the ribs. There’s something going on there.’

  ‘Even if they were together that night, it doesn’t mean they’re not involved,’ said Peregrine. ‘Knox could have killed Barbie after dropping Pansy home.’

  ‘Why? If Knox had no interest in Barbie?’

  ‘Come on, Detective. Lewis Knox is head over heels with Pansy Wing. And what was the one thing holding back her career?’

  ‘Barbie Jones.’

  ‘That’s right: Barbie Jones.’

  ‘Could they be in on it together?’ Steed mused. ‘Could Pansy Wing have been the woman in the window of Barbie Jones’s apartment?’

  ‘I like your thinking, but Pansy Wing and Barbie Jones have different shapes. I don’t think Mrs Meadows would have mistaken the two of them in silhouette. Although … Wait! That’s it!’

  Peregrine abandoned Detective Steed and raced towards the back of the storage room.

  Detective Steed caught up with Peregrine in front of the crowd of mannequins.

  ‘Audrey,’ she said, gesturing to the one-armed figure.

  Steed raised his eyebrows, silently asking Peregrine to explain.

  ‘She’s wearing a lime green mini. Mrs Meadows said Barbie was wearing a lime green dress that last night, but there was nothing like that in her wardrobe. Audrey is about the same size and shape as Barbie Jones.’

  ‘The landlady saw the mannequin!’ Steed slapped one hand into the other.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘But someone still had to flick the lights, someone who knew the signal.’

  ‘Exactly. Someone who’d perhaps sat in a white van parked in the street outside Barbie’s apartment.’

  ‘I think Mr Knox might be more forthcoming if I had him down at the station.’

  Peregrine nodded, her eyes still on the mannequin. ‘Look at this!’ She scratched her fingers lightly on the shoulder of the green dress, then plucked at the material. When she turned back to Steed, there were a few orange fibres between her fingers. ‘I found the same stuff on the back of Barbie’s couch and the coroner’s report said Florence had orange fibres under her fingernails!’

  Detective Steed bent closer to study the orange strands. ‘The light’s terrible here. What is it?’

  ‘I think it’s hairs from a synthetic wig.’

  ‘What wig?’ Steed gestured to the mannequin, bald underneath her large black hat.

  ‘A wig styled to look like Barbie Jones’s hair. This is orange and Barbie was a coppery redhead, but I think from a distance and in poor light it would look like her hair. Or close enough, anyway.’

  Steed studied the fibres again then pulled a small paper bag from his pocket, holding it out to Peregrine. ‘Drop them in there. I’ll see what the lab says. So you think what? Florence Astor saw someone with the wig and realised something was amiss?’

  Peregrine nodded. ‘There has to be more to it than just the wig, but yes.’

  ‘Lewis Knox?’

  ‘It still fits. The van, the mannequin made up to look like Barbie …’

  ‘Where is this wig now?’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose it could be anywhere in the store, or he might have got rid of it. We can have a look around here at least.’ Peregrine crossed to the closest line of steel shelves and began to search. She worked methodically, going through the first bank top to bottom, moving and lifting items, dragging things into the light for inspection before replacing everything and moving on to the next section. Steed watched her for a few moments then crossed to the next row and started to do the same.

  Minutes passed with only the sound of shifting objects and the odd humph or tsk of disappointment. Then Steed called out, ‘Where exactly did you find Florence’s shoe?’

  ‘Right at the end of the section where you are,’ Peregrine called back. She tried to peer through the shelves but gave up, leaving her spot to check what Steed was up to.

  She found him facedown on the floor, arm stretched beneath the shelves.

  ‘Can’t … quite …’ he grunted.

  ‘Hang on.’ Peregrine pulled a coathanger from a nearby rack. ‘Here,’ she said, bending down and handing it to Steed.

  ‘I should carry one of these with me at all times,’ he said.

  Steed scrabbled around for a moment, then shuffled backwards, bringing the coathanger and an orange-red mop of hair with him.

  Peregrine pounced on it, smiling broadly. ‘Nice deduction, Detective!’

  ‘Florence lost a shoe here, so it stood to reason she might have been close to this point when she grabbed at the wig.’ Steed stood and brushed himself down.

  ‘Look!’ Peregrine had placed the wig over one closed fist which she now held up. ‘Someone has done a really bad job of hacking a longer wig into a sort of Barbie Jones pixie cut.’ She fluffed the synthetic hair with her free hand.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Completely. You can see that it’s roughly the right length and colour.’ She wrinkled up her nose. ‘But whoever did this has no idea how to cut and
style hair.’

  ‘Unlike you,’ said Steed with a smile.

  ‘It’s that real-life experience we were talking about, Detective.’ Peregrine smiled back at him then turned the wig inside out and peered at the label. ‘Hair by Harrison’s. And there’s a style number. You know, for a synthetic, this is actually an expensive wig.’

  ‘Does that help?’

  ‘It might. It’s not the sort of thing you buy in bulk: especially not in this colour. Which means if it was bought as part of Blair’s inventory, there should be a record of a special order—and if it’s a one-off, someone would have to specifically request or authorise the purchase.’

  ‘We can find out who wanted a Barbie Jones wig.’

  Peregrine’s cheeks dimpled. ‘We certainly can. But perhaps, Detective, you won’t mind if I see what I can find out about the wig?’

  Steed hesitated then nodded. ‘The sooner I can talk to Mr Knox the better. Just try to be discreet.’

  ‘Penny Foster is the soul of discretion.’

  ‘I’m sure she is. It’s Peregrine Fisher I’m worried about.’

  ‘Let me just …’ Peregrine put the wig down on a shelf and stepped forward. ‘You’re still showing the effects of your horizontal activities.’

  Steed tensed as she reached for his face. Peregrine rubbed a thumb across his cheek then straightened the lapels of his jacket.

  ‘Better,’ she said, stepping to one side so Steed could get past.

  There was a faint crunch as Peregrine’s heel came down. She lifted her foot and scanned the floor. A small object, slender and pale, was lying almost underneath the shelves, hidden in deep shadow.

  ‘What is that?’ Steed crouched and peered closely, then, pinching it by one end, he carefully lifted the thing from the floor and held it up for Peregrine to see. Heads close together, they stared as he turned it slowly in the light.

  ‘It looks like a finger!’ Steed exclaimed.

  ‘It is a finger.’ Peregrine put her hand on his and adjusted the angle. ‘See? It’s a finger broken off a mannequin.’

  Instinctively, they both glanced in the direction of the group of shop dummies then back at their macabre find.