A Case of Spirits by Peter; Peter Lovesey Lovesey

establish whether Brand was fraudulent by turning out his pockets. They will need to be emptied for identification purposes. If there’s a white glove in there, or a hand made of plaster of Paris, we shall know Strathmore’s suspicions are correct. What do you say, Inspector?’
    ‘I have no objection,’ answered Jowett, pleased to be consulted. It had begun to look as if he was losing control of the discussion. He took a step towards the body, checked and on second thoughts delegated the duty to Cribb. ‘Sergeant, come over here and go through the pockets, will you? I shall make an inventory as you do so.’
    Cribb stepped briskly forward. ‘Left hand trouser pocket, sir: nothing. Right hand: some money, two shillings and sevenpence halfpenny. Hip pocket: nothing. Jacket pocket, left hand outside: cigarette case, silver, and box of safety matches, Bryant and May. Right hand: two keys on a ring. Ticket pocket: railway ticket, third class return, Richmond to Waterloo. Breast pocket, left hand inside: nothing. Right hand: wallet, pigskin, containing two penny postage stamps, three ten shilling notes and a photograph, somewhat dog-eared, of a lady in the—er—music-hall costume. There’s numbers on the back, sir.’
    ‘The back of the photograph, I trust,’ said Jowett drily. ‘Let me see.’
    Cribb handed it discreetly face downwards to his superior. Jowett frowned. There were two sets of neatly-formed numbers: 469 and below it 9281, followed by a square, the same size as the figures.
    ‘Not significant, in my opinion,’ said Jowett, after a pause. He turned the photograph over, blushed, and handed it back to Cribb. ‘Carry on, Sergeant.’
    ‘Top pocket: nothing, sir. Waistcoat, left hand side: nothing. Right hand: silver watch and chain, inscribed “P. B.” That’s all, sir.’
    Cribb put the objects in a neat arrangement on the table at the dead man’s feet. Mrs Probert came forward with a sheet and draped it over the body.
    ‘That seems to answer your point, Mr Strathmore,’ said Jowett. ‘There’s nothing here to suggest he was a fraud.’
    ‘I hope certain people feel suitably ashamed of themselves,’ said Miss Crush in a stage whisper.
    ‘Very well, the medium had no evidence of trickery on his person,’ Strathmore conceded. ‘That is not to have prevented him from passing things to his collaborator. I suggest we make a similar search of Quayle.’
    ‘Done, sir,’ said Cribb. ‘He’s carrying a railway ticket, twelve and sixpence and a hip-flask of gin, which fortunately survived his fall.’
    Jowett gave the sort of cough a chairman gives to call a meeting to order. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have explored this avenue of inquiry for long enough. It has produced nothing of consequence. I propose that we now confine ourselves strictly to the circumstances of Mr Brand’s unfortunate demise. Do I understand that you have something to contribute, madam?’ He peered warily at Miss Crush, who had been waving her hand throughout his speech.
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t somebody go and fetch a policeman?’
    Even in the presence of death, unforced laughter is difficult to suppress. It took several seconds for Jowett to restore order. ‘I believe, madam, that you were insensible when I introduced myself just now. I am Detective-Inspector Jowett of the Criminal Investigation Department, Great Scotland Yard, and I will suffice for a policeman. My assistant here is Sergeant Cribb, whom I was led to believe has already interviewed you at your house. He is a policeman, too.’
    ‘I should have remembered,’ said Miss Crush, flapping her hand at the inspector. ‘I think of him as a sensitive, you see, not an officer of the law. It would help if you both wore uniforms.’ She sighed and looked misty-eyed. ‘I think tall helmets are very chic. ’
    Jowett closed his eyes, and said with deliberation, ‘I need to determine the circumstances leading to Mr Brand’s decease. I shall