Murder Is Come Again by Joan Smith

judge by his getting a monopoly on retailing the brandy here in Brighton.”
    “Let us get to Nile Street, before someone else decides to shoot me,” Coffen said. They hurried to the carriages and made it to Nile Street without incident.
     

Chapter Thirteen
     
    They entered the house on Nile Street by the front door and, as if by pre-arrangement, all stood looking silently about the drawing room for inspiration. After a moment Luten said, “It’s interesting that Bolger was in this room, preparing to do some work that required a ladder and tools, when he took that fatal tumble. It’s possible he was going to get the necklace from its hiding place to work on.”
    “We aren’t sure he was going to take it apart, are we?” Prance asked.
    “Not necessarily take it apart, perhaps just tighten a clasp, or polish it up for selling.”
    “He wouldn’t need much in the way of tools for either of those jobs,” Prance pointed out. “A jeweler’s tools are so small he could put them in his pocket.”
    “Yes, I realize he wouldn’t wrench the diamonds out with a pair of pincers, but retrieving the necklace from its hiding place might require tools.”
    Black said, “That’s an idea. Weir thought he was about to tighten up the mirror over the fireplace. I wonder if there’s some hidey-hole there.”
    “Let’s have a look,” Corinne said, and they all rushed to the fireplace. The mirror above it, a small but fine one dating from the period of Queen Ann, was flanked on either side by cheap brass candlesticks. Luten reached up and jiggled the mirror.
    “It doesn’t seem to be loose,” he said. He carefully lifted the bottom edge, raised it to free it from the wire holding it in place and lifted it down. The wooden wall behind it, thick with dust and cobwebs that hadn’t been disturbed for years, was solid. There was no hiding place there. Luten returned the wire to its bracket, straightened the mirror and wiped the dust from his hands.
    “He wouldn’t have needed a ladder for that,” Corinne said. “A chair would do. It must be something else. Let us get the ladder and look behind those swags at the top of the window hangings, Luten.”
    They found the ladder that had caused Bolger’s death in the kitchen, pushed back against a wall. Bolger’s toolbox sat beside it. It contained the usual tools. There was no telling which ones he had tripped over. They took the ladder to each of the two drawing room windows facing the street and the two on the side wall. Luten climbed up, felt around behind the swags without finding anything but more dust and cobwebs. They all raised their eyes and looked around the decorative molding where wall met ceiling, but no hiding place suggested itself.
    Corinne said. “There’s nothing here. Let us get organized and search the whole house.”
    “We should begin with his work shop,” Luten said. They scattered to different areas.
    Within a minute Corinne’s shout called them to the kitchen. “I believe he did his work right here, at the kitchen table,” she said. “See, there’s this wooden box with tiny little tools in it and a loupe like jewelers use. I found it in the cupboard beside the table, but no sign of the diamonds.”
    “Yes, this is his workshop, all right,” Luten said. “I see he has a lamp at hand right on the table. Well, let us resume our search.”
    “Someone ought to have a go at the cellar,” Black said.
    Prance, not eager to risk his jacket in the cellar, said, “The house is hardly old enough and certainly not fine enough to have a priest’s hole, but might it have a secret passage, something to do with the Gentlemen? That paneled fireplace wall would be perfect for it. I’ll tap the walls and see if I can find it.”
    “I’ll help you,” said Corinne, who was wearing a new sprigged muslin and didn’t want to risk it in a dusty old cellar.
    Black didn’t put much faith in the notion of a secret panel. Sounded like something from one of Sir