The Return of the Errant Editor

Our story so far.

‘Ashford!’ Pomfritz’s voice echoed from the ceiling. ‘What are you doing out of your hole?’ Inwardly, I cringed. Outwardly, I attacked.

‘Detection, Lieutenant. Have you heard of it?’

‘That’s my job, Ashford. I asked about you.’

‘Who poo’d in your pudding, Lieutenant?’ You may as well know, Pomfritz brings out the schoolboy in me, to an inconceivable degree. He had already caught me on the back foot, and no good would come of it.

‘Still eloquent, old fellow,’ he said. ‘This is our business now, so you may as well be a good boy, and push off.’

‘Not so fast, Potato-Head,’ I said. My soul was now shriveling like a salted snail. ‘It’s my business, too. The old man engaged my services.’

‘Is that what they are calling it now, Cedric? This is murder, and not of the language. Leave it to the boys in long pants. Hey! Smitty!’ he called to one of his subordinates, and hurried off, leaving me to bear up under the varied sidelong and curious looks of the office staff.

I had not yet located a floor-drain that I could seep down, when a well-favoured and well-spoken young man approached me. ‘Mr Ashford? I am Lowell Puttingbridge, and I manage the office staff for Mr Falconridgeburn. Managed it, I mean. He told me to meet you, and asked me to give you whatever aid you might need.’

‘Thank you, Mr Puttingbridge. If you’ll give me a moment to gather my wits, we can consider the situation.’

‘Everyone calls me Lowell, sir,’ he said. With a disarming smile that invited confidences, he added, ‘That policeman has been on everyone’s nerves, all morning. He has made no friends here.’

‘Thank you, Lowell,’ I replied. ‘I imagine the present contretemps has diverted everyone’s attention now. Can you tell me what has occurred?’

The available information took up little time. Falconridgeburn was in early every morning to look in on the printing plant, which he loved. The office girl, who was now closeted with a police sergeant, met him, took his instructions for the day (including Lowell’s), and saw him exit for the plant, on the ground floor with its entrance in back. The pressman never saw him; he seemed to disappear between one door and the other. Then, an hour later, a carter noticed his body behind a stack of old crates and pallets on the alley.

He knew somewhat more of the editor, who was, he said, quiet, but well-liked among the staff. She was known for providing biscuits on Monday mornings, baked, she said, by her sister. She did her work with no fuss, was polite to all, and was suspected of being kind to animals.

Seeing a way to put space between Pomfritz and me (which is the correct expression), I induced Lowell to find for me the location of Miss Sealgood’s residence. It was still morning when I arrived at a clean, one-storey¹ semi-detached with all mod. cons. Not knocking, nor ringing the electrical bell, nor pounding upon the door brought a response until a neighboring pepperpot leant out her door and cried, ‘They’re not at home, ducks.’

‘They? Is one of them Miss Sealgood?’

‘Oh, aye. Miss and Missus. Mercy and Annette — Mrs Throme now, after her husband passed. Living together like they was Tip and Top.’

‘Can you tell me where they’ve gone?’

She looked puzzled. ‘Gone? They’ve not gone anywhere. They’re upstairs, I venture, only Mrs Annette is deaf and likely hasn’t heard you. It’s only as they’re not at home.’

‘I very much wish to speak with them,’ I replied. ‘How might I go about this?’

She chewed this over for a bit, then, bending to pick up a clot of earth from the garden box at her feet, hurled it at an upstairs window, whilst crying out, ‘Hoy, Annette! Sommun to see you!’

Almost instantly the window sash was flung upwards, and a face appeared, calling down, ‘Vertha McClemnans! There is no call to fling topsoil at my brightwork! Who is it?’ To my surprise, the accent was clear and well-regulated, and her use of ‘who’ correct.

‘Are you Miss Sealgood? My name is Ashford. It is quite urgent I see you.’

‘My sister is not well,’ she replied. ‘Let us not shout through windows. I shall come down directly.’

Very little time had elapsed before I had been met, welcomed, my hat and jacket taken, and an invitation for tea given and accepted. Mercy, Annette told me, was improving and would see me briefly, but I was enjoined not to tire her. ‘She has had such a difficult time of it, poor thing. She feels strongly about the importance of her work, and wishes only to be able to continue it. We’re all so proud of her, you know,’ she added with a sparkle and a smile.

When I enquired as to the cause of her difficulty, the sparkle fled. ‘She can’t be blamed for it, you know. No one could expect even a seasoned English teacher to take that sort of thing. That man should have known better. Henry James! And at her age. And that Stein woman. It was nothing but cruelty to make her read that filth.’

I stood, then, as Miss Sealgood now entered the parlor. Though aged, she was not old, and she stood straight. I hastened to introduce myself, and usher her to a chair, though she tried to wave me off.

It emerged that she had not heard from her employer since her sudden disaccommodation. I did not think it necessary to add to her troubles at this time. If I approached Pomfritz in a suitably penitent state, it seemed likely he would treat the subject with discretion. I assured her that her absence for a further day or two would be understood. Then, after a few minutes admiring family photographs and memorabilia, I made my good-byes.

The walk back to Cheapside took a good few minutes, but I needed them to review all I had learnt. Although I had nothing to contribute to the pursuit of Falconridgeburn’s killer, I had in fact found the missing editor, and hoped his executor would be suitably grateful. I was not at all unhappy to be disencumbered of obligation to a man who had used a marvelous woman so abominably.

And what if I had recognized a face among the family pictures? Lowell was a kind and well-spoken young man, and, I had no doubt, devoted to his maiden aunt. Certainly he had a good life, and a fine career, to look forward to.

• Ashford Files