Tom sighed. ‘This is exactly what I knew would happen. You’re going to blame me for him going missing. Maybe he just went off somewhere? I had nothing to do with it. But I’ll be honest with you again, Sergeant. I hope someone harmed him.’
‘Can you recall what you were doing on Friday the 1st and Saturday 2nd July 1911?’
Tom laughed out a cloud of tobacco smoke. ‘No, couldn’t tell you at all.’
‘If you kept any sort of diary—’
‘Do I look like the sort of man who keeps a diary, Sergeant?’
‘Can you remember who you were associating with back then? They could provide you with an alibi.’
‘I don’t need an alibi because I did nothing wrong on those dates. You know who my associates are, they’ve not changed in ten years. You could ask them yourself.’
Tom knew it was highly unlikely any of his friends could remember what they had been doing then.
Sergeant Ridley looked down at his notes and frowned some more. ‘This is an odd question to ask you, Mr Connolly,’ he said. ‘But I’ve been told to ask it. Do you own a typewriter?’
‘What do you think, Sergeant?’
‘Did you know anyone with a typewriter ten years ago?’
‘Who told you to ask me this?’
‘Can you answer my question?’
‘No, I never had a use for a typewriter in all my sixty-seven years.’
Sergeant Ridley made some lengthy notes.
Tom broke the silence. ‘So what does all this mean, Sergeant? What happens now?’
‘I’ll discuss it with my inspector.’
‘But you can see I’m innocent?’
‘Innocent isn’t a word I associate with you, Mr Connolly.’
‘But I did nothing to him!’
Chapter 39
Augusta told Fred about the intruder in her flat.
‘How frightening!’ he said. ‘You must have found it difficult to sleep last night.’
‘It wasn’t easy. But it helped that Philip was there.’ As Fred’s jaw dropped, Augusta realised she had to clarify this. ‘He slept on the sofa.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘There’s no scandal to report, Fred!’ She felt heat in her face.
‘I believe you.’ He smiled. ‘And Sparky was your chaperone, wasn’t he?’
‘Absolutely.’ She laughed.
‘I hope the police catch the intruder,’ said Fred. ‘I wonder who he was?’
‘He didn’t look familiar. I think someone sent him. Perhaps it was the Stantons. Maybe it was the Connollys. Walter Ferguson even.’ She shuddered. ‘I don’t like dwelling on it too much.’
The ring of the telephone interrupted them.
Augusta answered.
‘I can’t speak long,’ said the voice on the other end. ‘It’s Louisa Bradshaw.’
‘Mrs Bradshaw! Are you alright?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t agree to see you the other day.’
‘That’s fine. As long as you’re alright, it doesn’t matter.’
‘I’m sort of alright. The trouble is… I’ve been threatened.’
Augusta felt a chill run through her. ‘What happened?’
‘I received an anonymous letter warning me not to speak to anyone about my brother.’
‘But that’s dreadful! Have you told the police?’
