I had first experienced the meat turnovers on my travel to Budapest. As the saying goes when in Budapest… or the Anchor and Bell tavern in London.
The piroshky was marvelous.
“So,” I began. “How are you getting on with everyone at the Special Services Agency?”
She had not been working there long, having first worked at the London Times. And of course there was Alex Sinclair, also with the agency. She lit up like a Christmas tree on Christmas Day each time she spoke of him.
“He really is quite brilliant, you know. What with his computing machines and other inventions for the agency.”
I fully expected additional glowing comments.
“Quite well actually,” she said. “I’m given information-gathering tasks. Many of them are boring facts much like working for the newspaper. But on occasion there is something important.” She was thoughtful.
“Did you know that the Tower is haunted?” she asked.
In fact, I did, or at least knew of the rumors of haunting— that of Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and other unfortunate souls who had their heads lopped off or were drawn and quartered over the centuries.
“The guards at the Tower swear they’ve seen them when on night duty; headless spirits wandering about the place, and no one will go into the White Tower at night.”
Templeton would have loved it. I could imagine her and Wills searching for those ghosts— a somewhat eccentric actress accompanied by her own ghost or spirit, as it were, in the form of the bard himself, William Shakespeare. At least to hear her tell it.
I was not particularly a believer in such things, although my aunt claimed that one of our ancestors had a habit of wandering about Sussex Square which was almost four hundred years old. She had never actually seen the spirit however there were often things missing that then reappeared in a different place.
Not that it might have been forgetfulness on my aunt’s part. It was not something I was about to suggest. In other things she was sharp as a blade. However, on a past visit, Templeton had been quite intrigued after a supper party one night.
She had taken herself off into the older part of the manor that included a garret and tower— nothing on the order of the Tower of London, but a tower nonetheless. One that I had always been quite intrigued by.
Templeton had returned quite excited after an absence of some time.
“I’ve seen him!” she declared. “Just as I was leaving the Tower. He’s quite tall. He approached me and appeared to be speaking about something. Then…” The next part had my aunt most interested.
“I would swear that if the man was alive, he was about to seduce me! Most insistent. I barely escaped…”
“Oh my,” my aunt exclaimed. “He did have quite the reputation with the ladies. There was more than one duel fought over the matter. William de Lancey as I recall.”
Which of course might have explained his demise.
“Not at all,” my aunt had informed us. “He fell in love with a young lady, they wed, and had eight children.”
I had been quite surprised by that.
“According to family stories he was absolutely besotted with the young lady. It had to do with curling of the toes. No woman had ever refused his advances or excited him so. He was my two times great grandfather.”
That explained a great deal, not to mention the toe curling. Not that I shared all of that with Lucy Penworth. I supposed everyone was entitled to their family stories, and ghosts.
“Tell me about this new inquiry,” Lucy asked now, eyes sparkling with interest. As a former writer for the Times, she loved a good story.
However, in the interest of our clients, Sir John and Lady Mainwaring, I was careful not to reveal any details of this most dreadful case.
I explained that I needed to know about photographers the newspaper used for their articles and profiles, including the crime section of the daily.
“If you’re in need of a photographer, I would imagine that one of the portrait photographers might be a better choice. Surely you know of several,” she replied.
This was a portrait of a different sort considering the two photographs the Mainwaring’s had received.
“However, if you need someone for the usual sort found in the dailies, there are a handful who provide photographs from time to time for the newspaper.”
She proceeded to give me the names of two of the most frequent providers of photographs.
