And Then There Were None fic: Lombard and Blore, Private Enquiry Agents (gen)
Title: Lombard and Blore, Private Enquiry Agents
Author: Dimity Blue
Rating: All
Genre: gen, alternate reallity,
Characters: Vera Claythorne, Philip Lombard, William Blore
Word Count: 2,924 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Read under the cut or on AO3.
Lombard and Blore, Private Enquiry Agents
by Dimity Blue
"No luck with the agency then?"
Vera jumped at the soft voice in her ear. Mr. Lombard. She might have guessed.
He slid into the seat opposite her. "Yet another agency turned you down and now you seek to drown your woes... With a cup of tea and a plain biscuit," he added as the waitress deposited her order in front on her. "Now, what is that? That's not enough to keep body and soul together." His face and voice were sympathetic but his dark eyes held a laughing look.
"Please leave me alone." Vera picked up her biscuit. It was plain but she needed something to quell her rumbling stomach. She refused to even look at the more costly food on display.
"Darlin'."
Vera instantly lifted her gaze to freeze him but he was calling to the waitress.
"We'll take a plate of soup and one of those buns with a pot of tea for two." As the giggling waitress went away, he gave Vera a wink. "You can save yer biscuit for dessert."
"Mr. Lombard -"
"I have a business proposition to put to you and I don't want you faintin' in the middle of it. It puts me off my stride. Thank you, darlin'."
Vera held onto the side of the table and swallowed hard as the aroma from the hot, savoury soup greeted her. The plate went down in front of her and Vera tightened her grip.
"Vera, eat your soup before you faint."
Vera took a spoonful of soup. The taste was heavenly, and she had to blink to stop the urge to cry.
"How long has it been since you ate, anyway?"
Yesterday. Her last slice of bread. She took another mouthful. "My name is Miss Claythorne and you mentioned a business proposition."
"I thought that'd keep you from fainting. Miss Claythorne."
She lifted her chin and carried on eating his soup.
"I'm going into partnership with Tubbs."
"Tubbs?"
"Mister Tubbs, if you want to be polite."
He was amused by something but Vera ignored it. The few times she'd met him had already convinced her he had a sense of humour that was best ignored. "And where do I come in?"
"We need a secretary. Someone very...respectable to add class to the office." He was laughing at her again. His eyes suggesting it wasn't her respectability he was interested in.
"I'm not a secretary."
"You're not respectable either."
The gibe, if it had been one, missed. She knew she wasn't respectable anymore. Instead, she was disgraced.
"But who's going to look for the disreputable teacher Miss Claythorne under the respectable blouse of Miss Thorne, secretary to Lombard and Blore, private enquiry agents?"
"Private enquiry -"
"Private detectives, if you prefer but private enquiry agents sounds so much more respectable. When you're ready, I'll take you to meet Tubbs."
"Who's Tubbs?" Vera didn't think it was the lack of food getting her confused, especially now she'd eaten.
"My partner."
"I thought you said his name was Blore?"
~'~
"I told you to stop callin' me that!"
Mr. Tubbs or Blore was an angry little man with a moustache who reminded Vera of a sewer rat.
"And what do we need a secretary for anyway? We can't even afford to pay our own wages!"
Mr. Lombard looked amused. "And if we keep on going the way we are, that won't change." He stepped behind Vera and put his hands on her shoulders. "Think of it, Tubbs! You step into our office and the first thing you see is our efficient secretary, Miss Claythorne. It gives us respectability - she gives us respectability. Though we'll have to change her name to Thorne." His hands dropped and he stepped out from behind her.
Tubbs's thoughtful stare turned sharp. "Claythorne..."
Vera had long since ceased to flush at being identified.
"Vera Claythorne." Mr. Lombard cast her a wickedly amused look. "Who needs to change her career and her name and is thus in a desperate enough position to accept our proposition."
"Eh?" Tubbs looked startled.
"Not that kind of proposition, Tubbs. No, Miss Thorne will be our respectable secretary in return for a roof over her head, some food in her belly, and a share of the profits when we have some to share."
Tubbs went back to looking thoughtful. "She looks respectable enough. But if the clients find out we're employing a child killer, we'll all be ruined."
Vera felt forced to protest that. "I'm not -"
"Oh, please." Tubbs gave her a spiteful look from his dark, beady eyes. "Of course you are. Your own fiance knew you were guilty."
Vera stepped back from the hate in his face. Hugo had realised. Had realised and said he would have seen her hanged if he could. Was that more damning than being the one who'd failed to save Cyril?
"It doesn't matter." Mr. Lombard stepped between them. "You're not in a position to shame others, Tubbs."
Tubbs flushed and Vera's interest was piqued.
"Let's show Miss Thorne around the facilities. As you can see, Miss Thorne, this is your office."
Vera looked around. The room wasn't particularly large, and it was made smaller by a tall screen to one side of it. The rest of the space was taken up by a desk, a filing cabinet, and some chairs.
"Wouldn't there be more room without the screen?"
"There would but then..." Mr. Lombard pulled the screen back to reveal a pair of bunk beds. "We don't want them seeing where we sleep."
"We...?" Vera felt herself redden as Tubbs sniggered.
"Not you and me, darlin'. Me and Tubbs sleep out here." Mr. Lombard threw open the door leading to the inner office. "This is the inner sanctum where your employers Mr. Philip Lombard and ex-Detective Sergeant William Blore await the clients. It's also where you'll sleep." He pointed to the large sofa in the corner. "Your peace of mind will be ensured with the use of a key." He gestured to the lock. "And if you leave the key in place, it means Tubbs can't peep at you during the night."
"I wouldn't!" Tubbs protested.
"I know you wouldn't, Tubbs," Mr. Lombard said, pointedly. "Any questions?"
"Yes." Vera had to ask. "Why do you call him Tubbs?"
Mr. Lombard smiled. "Because it suits him."
~'~
Vera took the job. If it failed to work out, she had food and shelter for as long as it lasted. To think, after all her plans, she'd be brought to this. Everything had gone so well, she'd thought. She'd never considered that Hugo might abandon her. After all she'd done for him. Instead of being Mrs. Hugo Hamilton, she was ruined. Instead of being Hugo's wife, she was a secretary who was paid with food and board.
"Still thinking about lover boy?"
She turned to find Mr. Lombard watching her from the doorway.
"Not at all."
"Sure you were, and it's natural too. You took the risks and he got the rewards. You could have been hanged."
The word still had the power to frighten her, even though there was no proof. Automatically, she said, "It was an accident!"
Mr. Lombard looked amused. "Of course it was. Same with Tubbs. You and he should compare stories some time."
"He's a Detective Sergeant?"
"Was. Until the terrible accident which persuaded his employers to suggest he should leave for pastures green." Mr. Lombard's eyes held that gleam again. "There was no proof, you see. Much like your own case."
"And yours?" It was a guess, but Vera was sure he had his own skeleton in the closet.
His smile widened. "Not quite like mine."
Footsteps in the corridor outside the office door warned them of someone's approach. Vera sat down and began typing as Mr. Lombard disappeared into the inner office. The door opened and a thin man stood in the gap, a soft hat in his hands.
"May I help you, sir?"
The man looked uncertain. "I think... I don't have an appointment."
Vera gave him a professional smile. "Mr. Lombard is in his office. If you care to take a seat, I'll ask if he can see you. What name shall I say?"
The uncertainty changed into relief, making him look even younger. "Wilmington. James Wilmington." He sat, then stood again as she got up and went through the inner doorway and shut the door behind her.
"It's a client."
Mr. Lombard nodded. "What's he like?"
"His name's Wilmington. Young, nervous, he's got money."
Dark eyes gleamed at her. "Don't go getting off with any clients, Vera. Remember your place. Wait until I ring then show him in. Bring a notepad and make notes."
Vera gave him a nod and went back out. As though she'd associate with any clients; she knew her position was too precarious. She also knew they wouldn't marry her once they knew what she was.
It was only a couple of minutes before the bell rang. Vera collected her pen and pad and showed Mr. Wilmington in.
"What can we do for you, Mr. Wilmington?" Mr. Lombard asked as soon as he'd shook Mr. Wilmington's hand and invited him to take a seat.
"Well, it's..." Mr. Wilmington's gaze slid to Vera as she sat to one side of the desk.
"Miss Thorne is the soul of discretion. You may speak freely in front of her."
"Yes, of course. Well, there's a young lady, you see. We were friendly. Only...only now I'm engaged. Not to her!" Mr. Wilmington added the last hurriedly, his pale face flushing red.
"And this young lady is...disappointed?"
"Yes! Exactly. And she, well, she has some letters of mine." Mr. Wilmington leaned forward. "I need them back."
"And is she willing to part with them?"
"Yes! Well, for £250. For her disappointment."
Mr. Lombard's eyebrows rose. "That's a big disappointment."
"I can't meet her. My engagement has been made public. If I - if she..."
"You need say no more. You need an intermediary. Someone who can see this young lady on your behalf and ensure that all the letters are retrieved." As Mr. Wilmington nodded, Mr. Lombard added, "And how many letters are there?"
"Seventeen." Mr. Wilmington gulped and blushed again. "We wrote a lot, you see."
"Of course. The lady's name and address?"
"Lucille Demarchand. She's an actress. She's staying in Pimlico with her sister."
"She has no fixed address?" Mr. Lombard asked.
"She was travelling a lot."
"I understand. Our fee will be twenty pounds, five pounds of which will be payable up front, with the rest due upon receipt of the letters by you. Now, how may we pay her?"
Mr. Wilmington fumbled in his breast pocket and produced a wallet. A crisp five pound note and a cheque passed into Mr. Lombard's firm grip and Vera forced herself to keep her eyes on her notepad.
"A cashier's cheque made payable to bearer. Very sensible. Miss Thorne, will you fetch the receipt book, if you please."
Mr. Wilmington left with a receipt and a promise for his business to be dealt with urgently, and Vera returned to Mr. Lombard's office to find him admiring the cheque.
"Look at that, Vera. It's worth £250 of anyone's money, and he hands it over as trusting as you please."
"You're not -"
"Going to steal the poor man blind? No. While our Mr. Wilmington is a trustworthy soul, there'll be someone around him with sense. We do our job and Mr. Wilmington will never mention a word. We steal his money and that someone will notice his distress and track us down. Let's not add theft to the list of your crimes."
"My crimes?"
"You'd be an accessory, Vera. Tut tut. And here's my other accessory. Tubbs, we have a case."
Mr. Blore looked surprised as he came through the door. "The nervous gent who just left? I can't imagine he's done much."
"Just enough to have him worried about a scandalous ex-lover and his presentable fiancée. Vera, love, copy that address onto a piece of notepaper and Tubbs and I will go see the improbably-named Miss Demarchand."
~'~
"So what did this Wilmington say?"
Philip got into the driver's seat of their cheap and unreliable car. "That his disappointed ex-lover, Miss Lucille Demarchand, is putting the squeeze on him for £250, or she'll tell his uptight fiancée everything."
Tubbs let out a bark of laughter. "I'll bet that's not how he phrased it!"
"Oh, it was all couched in the most delicate of language to avoid hurting Miss Thorne's ears but that's what he meant."
There was silence for a short while and Philip waited silently, knowing what was coming next.
"Listen, this Claythorne."
Tubbs was so predictable.
"I think it's dangerous to have her in the office. If anyone finds out -"
"You could say that about any one of us, Tubbs. We're all walking the same tightrope."
"We didn't kill a little kid!"
"No. But we're in no position to judge anyone, Tubbs. Mr. Wilmington is paying us £20 for today's bit of work, and he paid a £5 advance fee without a murmur. Do you think he'd have done that without Miss Thorne and her receipt book?"
"I suppose not."
"You suppose right. Don't you worry about Miss Thorne. The odds of anyone recognising her are low and, if they do, we can heave her overboard."
~'~
The house in Pimlico was easily found, and Philip and Tubbs got to wait in a depressingly respectable sitting room while the maid went to fetch Miss Demarchand. She was barely out of the room before the door opened again and a tall, ruddy-faced woman came in, stripping off her gloves.
"I told you to have those stairs done -" She stopped short and glared at the pair of them. "Who are you?"
"My name is Lombard, and this is my partner, Mr. Blore." Philip handed over their card.
"Private enquiry -" Her face paled, then the redness deepened. "Excuse me." She stalked out and shut the door firmly behind her.
Tubbs gave vent to a quiet whistle and exchanged a look with Philip. "I'm guessing that's the sister."
Philip nodded. "I'm guessing the idea of private enquiry agents in her sitting room is an unwelcome one."
Shortly after, the door opened and Miss Demarchand came in. She was shorter and slimmer than her sister, and her carefully made up face betrayed no unbecoming blush, but there was a redness to her eyes the make up couldn't hide. Her mouth drooped sulkily when Philip mentioned Mr. Wilmington's name.
"He couldn't even come to see me himself? Well, that's not right, is it? But I suppose if you're rich you can do anything, can't you?"
"It's the way of the world, darlin'." Philip smiled at the way she perked up at the casual endearment. "But a beautiful girl like yourself shouldn't be wastin' your time on the likes of him. You can find someone better, especially with £250 in your stocking top."
Her eyes opened wide. "You don't mean to say he's going to pay it?"
Philip produced the cheque. "A £250 bearer's cheque as a way to remember him by. But," he added as she stretched out her hand, "you have to hand over all his letters and any photographs you have of him."
Her mouth hardened and her hand dropped. "You weren't born yesterday, were you?"
"They're useless to you, darlin'. Far better to have two hundred and fifty little reminders that causes no one any harm than the police putting you in jail for attempted blackmail."
"Jimmy wouldn't do that."
"He wouldn't, but can you say the same about his father or any uncles he's got?" Tubbs put in.
She thought about it, then gave a jerky, one shouldered shrug and ran from the room. She was back within a few minutes with a small bundle of letters and a large photograph in an ornate frame. "He can keep the frame," she said, dropping it onto a side table. "I'll get myself a new one."
Philip counted up the letters and handed her the cheque. "It's been a pleasure, Miss Demarchand."
~'~
"Our first case." Philip put £16 into the cash box, locked it, and doled out a pound note each to Vera and to Tubbs. "A pound for meself, and a pound to cover a good meal out for the three of us. What do you say to that?"
"A pound will cover more than a good meal," Tubbs said.
"We should be able to have a drink or two to go with it. Not champagne, unfortunately. Are you game, Vera?"
"What about the rest of the money?" Vera asked. "You said we'd share the profits."
"And so we will. Don't be impatient, darlin'. That little lot will cover our bills and keep us going until we get more cases."
"Very well, then." She went off to get her hat and coat.
Tubbs waited until she was out of the room. "It wouldn't take much to break into the cashbox."
"Nothin' at all." Philip handed the key over, then dropped the box into his desk drawer and locked that too. "I'd have to break into the box; you'd have to break into my desk; Vera would have to break into both. It's a simple system."
Tubbs nodded before he pocketed the key. "Of course, you could do both to frame Vera."
"So could you, Tubbs, so could you. It's a good thing we're all so trustworthy, isn't it?"
The end. Or the beginning...
6th February 2022.
Author: Dimity Blue
Rating: All
Genre: gen, alternate reallity,
Characters: Vera Claythorne, Philip Lombard, William Blore
Word Count: 2,924 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Read under the cut or on AO3.
Lombard and Blore, Private Enquiry Agents
by Dimity Blue
"No luck with the agency then?"
Vera jumped at the soft voice in her ear. Mr. Lombard. She might have guessed.
He slid into the seat opposite her. "Yet another agency turned you down and now you seek to drown your woes... With a cup of tea and a plain biscuit," he added as the waitress deposited her order in front on her. "Now, what is that? That's not enough to keep body and soul together." His face and voice were sympathetic but his dark eyes held a laughing look.
"Please leave me alone." Vera picked up her biscuit. It was plain but she needed something to quell her rumbling stomach. She refused to even look at the more costly food on display.
"Darlin'."
Vera instantly lifted her gaze to freeze him but he was calling to the waitress.
"We'll take a plate of soup and one of those buns with a pot of tea for two." As the giggling waitress went away, he gave Vera a wink. "You can save yer biscuit for dessert."
"Mr. Lombard -"
"I have a business proposition to put to you and I don't want you faintin' in the middle of it. It puts me off my stride. Thank you, darlin'."
Vera held onto the side of the table and swallowed hard as the aroma from the hot, savoury soup greeted her. The plate went down in front of her and Vera tightened her grip.
"Vera, eat your soup before you faint."
Vera took a spoonful of soup. The taste was heavenly, and she had to blink to stop the urge to cry.
"How long has it been since you ate, anyway?"
Yesterday. Her last slice of bread. She took another mouthful. "My name is Miss Claythorne and you mentioned a business proposition."
"I thought that'd keep you from fainting. Miss Claythorne."
She lifted her chin and carried on eating his soup.
"I'm going into partnership with Tubbs."
"Tubbs?"
"Mister Tubbs, if you want to be polite."
He was amused by something but Vera ignored it. The few times she'd met him had already convinced her he had a sense of humour that was best ignored. "And where do I come in?"
"We need a secretary. Someone very...respectable to add class to the office." He was laughing at her again. His eyes suggesting it wasn't her respectability he was interested in.
"I'm not a secretary."
"You're not respectable either."
The gibe, if it had been one, missed. She knew she wasn't respectable anymore. Instead, she was disgraced.
"But who's going to look for the disreputable teacher Miss Claythorne under the respectable blouse of Miss Thorne, secretary to Lombard and Blore, private enquiry agents?"
"Private enquiry -"
"Private detectives, if you prefer but private enquiry agents sounds so much more respectable. When you're ready, I'll take you to meet Tubbs."
"Who's Tubbs?" Vera didn't think it was the lack of food getting her confused, especially now she'd eaten.
"My partner."
"I thought you said his name was Blore?"
~'~
"I told you to stop callin' me that!"
Mr. Tubbs or Blore was an angry little man with a moustache who reminded Vera of a sewer rat.
"And what do we need a secretary for anyway? We can't even afford to pay our own wages!"
Mr. Lombard looked amused. "And if we keep on going the way we are, that won't change." He stepped behind Vera and put his hands on her shoulders. "Think of it, Tubbs! You step into our office and the first thing you see is our efficient secretary, Miss Claythorne. It gives us respectability - she gives us respectability. Though we'll have to change her name to Thorne." His hands dropped and he stepped out from behind her.
Tubbs's thoughtful stare turned sharp. "Claythorne..."
Vera had long since ceased to flush at being identified.
"Vera Claythorne." Mr. Lombard cast her a wickedly amused look. "Who needs to change her career and her name and is thus in a desperate enough position to accept our proposition."
"Eh?" Tubbs looked startled.
"Not that kind of proposition, Tubbs. No, Miss Thorne will be our respectable secretary in return for a roof over her head, some food in her belly, and a share of the profits when we have some to share."
Tubbs went back to looking thoughtful. "She looks respectable enough. But if the clients find out we're employing a child killer, we'll all be ruined."
Vera felt forced to protest that. "I'm not -"
"Oh, please." Tubbs gave her a spiteful look from his dark, beady eyes. "Of course you are. Your own fiance knew you were guilty."
Vera stepped back from the hate in his face. Hugo had realised. Had realised and said he would have seen her hanged if he could. Was that more damning than being the one who'd failed to save Cyril?
"It doesn't matter." Mr. Lombard stepped between them. "You're not in a position to shame others, Tubbs."
Tubbs flushed and Vera's interest was piqued.
"Let's show Miss Thorne around the facilities. As you can see, Miss Thorne, this is your office."
Vera looked around. The room wasn't particularly large, and it was made smaller by a tall screen to one side of it. The rest of the space was taken up by a desk, a filing cabinet, and some chairs.
"Wouldn't there be more room without the screen?"
"There would but then..." Mr. Lombard pulled the screen back to reveal a pair of bunk beds. "We don't want them seeing where we sleep."
"We...?" Vera felt herself redden as Tubbs sniggered.
"Not you and me, darlin'. Me and Tubbs sleep out here." Mr. Lombard threw open the door leading to the inner office. "This is the inner sanctum where your employers Mr. Philip Lombard and ex-Detective Sergeant William Blore await the clients. It's also where you'll sleep." He pointed to the large sofa in the corner. "Your peace of mind will be ensured with the use of a key." He gestured to the lock. "And if you leave the key in place, it means Tubbs can't peep at you during the night."
"I wouldn't!" Tubbs protested.
"I know you wouldn't, Tubbs," Mr. Lombard said, pointedly. "Any questions?"
"Yes." Vera had to ask. "Why do you call him Tubbs?"
Mr. Lombard smiled. "Because it suits him."
~'~
Vera took the job. If it failed to work out, she had food and shelter for as long as it lasted. To think, after all her plans, she'd be brought to this. Everything had gone so well, she'd thought. She'd never considered that Hugo might abandon her. After all she'd done for him. Instead of being Mrs. Hugo Hamilton, she was ruined. Instead of being Hugo's wife, she was a secretary who was paid with food and board.
"Still thinking about lover boy?"
She turned to find Mr. Lombard watching her from the doorway.
"Not at all."
"Sure you were, and it's natural too. You took the risks and he got the rewards. You could have been hanged."
The word still had the power to frighten her, even though there was no proof. Automatically, she said, "It was an accident!"
Mr. Lombard looked amused. "Of course it was. Same with Tubbs. You and he should compare stories some time."
"He's a Detective Sergeant?"
"Was. Until the terrible accident which persuaded his employers to suggest he should leave for pastures green." Mr. Lombard's eyes held that gleam again. "There was no proof, you see. Much like your own case."
"And yours?" It was a guess, but Vera was sure he had his own skeleton in the closet.
His smile widened. "Not quite like mine."
Footsteps in the corridor outside the office door warned them of someone's approach. Vera sat down and began typing as Mr. Lombard disappeared into the inner office. The door opened and a thin man stood in the gap, a soft hat in his hands.
"May I help you, sir?"
The man looked uncertain. "I think... I don't have an appointment."
Vera gave him a professional smile. "Mr. Lombard is in his office. If you care to take a seat, I'll ask if he can see you. What name shall I say?"
The uncertainty changed into relief, making him look even younger. "Wilmington. James Wilmington." He sat, then stood again as she got up and went through the inner doorway and shut the door behind her.
"It's a client."
Mr. Lombard nodded. "What's he like?"
"His name's Wilmington. Young, nervous, he's got money."
Dark eyes gleamed at her. "Don't go getting off with any clients, Vera. Remember your place. Wait until I ring then show him in. Bring a notepad and make notes."
Vera gave him a nod and went back out. As though she'd associate with any clients; she knew her position was too precarious. She also knew they wouldn't marry her once they knew what she was.
It was only a couple of minutes before the bell rang. Vera collected her pen and pad and showed Mr. Wilmington in.
"What can we do for you, Mr. Wilmington?" Mr. Lombard asked as soon as he'd shook Mr. Wilmington's hand and invited him to take a seat.
"Well, it's..." Mr. Wilmington's gaze slid to Vera as she sat to one side of the desk.
"Miss Thorne is the soul of discretion. You may speak freely in front of her."
"Yes, of course. Well, there's a young lady, you see. We were friendly. Only...only now I'm engaged. Not to her!" Mr. Wilmington added the last hurriedly, his pale face flushing red.
"And this young lady is...disappointed?"
"Yes! Exactly. And she, well, she has some letters of mine." Mr. Wilmington leaned forward. "I need them back."
"And is she willing to part with them?"
"Yes! Well, for £250. For her disappointment."
Mr. Lombard's eyebrows rose. "That's a big disappointment."
"I can't meet her. My engagement has been made public. If I - if she..."
"You need say no more. You need an intermediary. Someone who can see this young lady on your behalf and ensure that all the letters are retrieved." As Mr. Wilmington nodded, Mr. Lombard added, "And how many letters are there?"
"Seventeen." Mr. Wilmington gulped and blushed again. "We wrote a lot, you see."
"Of course. The lady's name and address?"
"Lucille Demarchand. She's an actress. She's staying in Pimlico with her sister."
"She has no fixed address?" Mr. Lombard asked.
"She was travelling a lot."
"I understand. Our fee will be twenty pounds, five pounds of which will be payable up front, with the rest due upon receipt of the letters by you. Now, how may we pay her?"
Mr. Wilmington fumbled in his breast pocket and produced a wallet. A crisp five pound note and a cheque passed into Mr. Lombard's firm grip and Vera forced herself to keep her eyes on her notepad.
"A cashier's cheque made payable to bearer. Very sensible. Miss Thorne, will you fetch the receipt book, if you please."
Mr. Wilmington left with a receipt and a promise for his business to be dealt with urgently, and Vera returned to Mr. Lombard's office to find him admiring the cheque.
"Look at that, Vera. It's worth £250 of anyone's money, and he hands it over as trusting as you please."
"You're not -"
"Going to steal the poor man blind? No. While our Mr. Wilmington is a trustworthy soul, there'll be someone around him with sense. We do our job and Mr. Wilmington will never mention a word. We steal his money and that someone will notice his distress and track us down. Let's not add theft to the list of your crimes."
"My crimes?"
"You'd be an accessory, Vera. Tut tut. And here's my other accessory. Tubbs, we have a case."
Mr. Blore looked surprised as he came through the door. "The nervous gent who just left? I can't imagine he's done much."
"Just enough to have him worried about a scandalous ex-lover and his presentable fiancée. Vera, love, copy that address onto a piece of notepaper and Tubbs and I will go see the improbably-named Miss Demarchand."
~'~
"So what did this Wilmington say?"
Philip got into the driver's seat of their cheap and unreliable car. "That his disappointed ex-lover, Miss Lucille Demarchand, is putting the squeeze on him for £250, or she'll tell his uptight fiancée everything."
Tubbs let out a bark of laughter. "I'll bet that's not how he phrased it!"
"Oh, it was all couched in the most delicate of language to avoid hurting Miss Thorne's ears but that's what he meant."
There was silence for a short while and Philip waited silently, knowing what was coming next.
"Listen, this Claythorne."
Tubbs was so predictable.
"I think it's dangerous to have her in the office. If anyone finds out -"
"You could say that about any one of us, Tubbs. We're all walking the same tightrope."
"We didn't kill a little kid!"
"No. But we're in no position to judge anyone, Tubbs. Mr. Wilmington is paying us £20 for today's bit of work, and he paid a £5 advance fee without a murmur. Do you think he'd have done that without Miss Thorne and her receipt book?"
"I suppose not."
"You suppose right. Don't you worry about Miss Thorne. The odds of anyone recognising her are low and, if they do, we can heave her overboard."
~'~
The house in Pimlico was easily found, and Philip and Tubbs got to wait in a depressingly respectable sitting room while the maid went to fetch Miss Demarchand. She was barely out of the room before the door opened again and a tall, ruddy-faced woman came in, stripping off her gloves.
"I told you to have those stairs done -" She stopped short and glared at the pair of them. "Who are you?"
"My name is Lombard, and this is my partner, Mr. Blore." Philip handed over their card.
"Private enquiry -" Her face paled, then the redness deepened. "Excuse me." She stalked out and shut the door firmly behind her.
Tubbs gave vent to a quiet whistle and exchanged a look with Philip. "I'm guessing that's the sister."
Philip nodded. "I'm guessing the idea of private enquiry agents in her sitting room is an unwelcome one."
Shortly after, the door opened and Miss Demarchand came in. She was shorter and slimmer than her sister, and her carefully made up face betrayed no unbecoming blush, but there was a redness to her eyes the make up couldn't hide. Her mouth drooped sulkily when Philip mentioned Mr. Wilmington's name.
"He couldn't even come to see me himself? Well, that's not right, is it? But I suppose if you're rich you can do anything, can't you?"
"It's the way of the world, darlin'." Philip smiled at the way she perked up at the casual endearment. "But a beautiful girl like yourself shouldn't be wastin' your time on the likes of him. You can find someone better, especially with £250 in your stocking top."
Her eyes opened wide. "You don't mean to say he's going to pay it?"
Philip produced the cheque. "A £250 bearer's cheque as a way to remember him by. But," he added as she stretched out her hand, "you have to hand over all his letters and any photographs you have of him."
Her mouth hardened and her hand dropped. "You weren't born yesterday, were you?"
"They're useless to you, darlin'. Far better to have two hundred and fifty little reminders that causes no one any harm than the police putting you in jail for attempted blackmail."
"Jimmy wouldn't do that."
"He wouldn't, but can you say the same about his father or any uncles he's got?" Tubbs put in.
She thought about it, then gave a jerky, one shouldered shrug and ran from the room. She was back within a few minutes with a small bundle of letters and a large photograph in an ornate frame. "He can keep the frame," she said, dropping it onto a side table. "I'll get myself a new one."
Philip counted up the letters and handed her the cheque. "It's been a pleasure, Miss Demarchand."
~'~
"Our first case." Philip put £16 into the cash box, locked it, and doled out a pound note each to Vera and to Tubbs. "A pound for meself, and a pound to cover a good meal out for the three of us. What do you say to that?"
"A pound will cover more than a good meal," Tubbs said.
"We should be able to have a drink or two to go with it. Not champagne, unfortunately. Are you game, Vera?"
"What about the rest of the money?" Vera asked. "You said we'd share the profits."
"And so we will. Don't be impatient, darlin'. That little lot will cover our bills and keep us going until we get more cases."
"Very well, then." She went off to get her hat and coat.
Tubbs waited until she was out of the room. "It wouldn't take much to break into the cashbox."
"Nothin' at all." Philip handed the key over, then dropped the box into his desk drawer and locked that too. "I'd have to break into the box; you'd have to break into my desk; Vera would have to break into both. It's a simple system."
Tubbs nodded before he pocketed the key. "Of course, you could do both to frame Vera."
"So could you, Tubbs, so could you. It's a good thing we're all so trustworthy, isn't it?"
The end. Or the beginning...
6th February 2022.