Wrong place, wrong time

  It was very  late night, or rather very early morning, as you wish, for the drunken slob did not carry a watch and his intent was only to relieve himself behind a bush at the far side of the  Science Museum.  He was about to do so as he saw a woman lying on her back near the wall and figured she might be in a worse state than he was.  He swayed and partly stumbled over, got closer, and tried to shake her arm but he sensed that she would never wake up.  He was tempted to take the little purse and just disappear into the night, thought better of it and walked to Museum Lane.  He knew by experience that the police regularly patrolled the area.
   He didn't have to wait long, and waved his arms exceitedly as he saw a patrol car approach.
   ''Problem, old chap?''
   ''Ya.  You might say''.  His words were slurred but the patrolman got the point clearly enough when the  drunk spoke of a body.
   The cop took his flashlight, got out of the car and followed the man to the row of bushes.
   ''There'' he said, pointing to the dead lady on the ground.  Constable Yonge approached, knelt next to her, tried to get a pulse and found none.  He got back to his patrol car, asked the fellow to stay close,  called his dispatch and asked for immediate assisstance.
   In  less than forty-five minutes , inspector Paddington arrived on the scene.
  A short fellow, fifty years old, full head of salt-pepper hair, slight;y on the fat side considering that he liked a good table and a nice bottle  of wine.
   Hardly was he stepping out of his car that his assistant, sergeant Catherine Davis, an inch taller than him on low heels, good looking woman in her mid-thirties, shoulder length red hair, green eyes, a smile to kill for, always elegantly dressed, even in blue jeans and sweater, arrived by his side.
   ''Good morning sir, and what have we here?''
   ''Good morning Catherine. Strangulation, it looks like, at first glance''.
   She took  a look at the body.  Nice blonde, Long hair.  Lovely cocktail dress deep cleavage. The type she liked, thought she kept that to herself.
   ''Nothing stolen. She still has her pearls, her earrings, her watch and her purse. right there''.
   ''Possible rape, considering the state of disaray of her dress'', said as she was squatting down for a closer look.  Do we know who she is?'' She  asked as she put on her latex gloves and  going for the elegant dark blue polyester evening bag with crystal chains.  Opening the purse she took out  the driver's  ID with the name of Ashley Blair.  A check on her pocket computer gave her an address on Marylebone Road.  She knew she'd have to handle this.
  "You want to go there while I find out what she was doing over here?''
   ''Yes, of course''.  She got back to her car and checked some more on the lady.  She found out that she was married to the famed geologist Lord Jason Blair.  She drove the short distance to the address given, parked in front of a somewhat non-descript residence similar to many other three strory houses on either side of the Blair residence, but nevertheless, houses which were fashionably rich compared to the  somewhat modest lodgings she shared with her wife Jennifer.
   She rang the bell and it took a few minutes before a light came on in the hallway.
   Hair disheveled and pulling the belt of his dressing gown.  ''Yes?''
   ''Lord jason Blair''?
   ''Yes, what...?''
   ""I am sorry to distrurb you at such an early hour''.  She pulled out her card and identified herself. ''May I come in?''
   ''Yes, please, what,,,?'' he pointed the way to the living-room  She observed the tall, skinny man of about fifty. Dark eyes, mustache and full beard.
   ''I have terrible news, sir" she said as they sat down, ""youe wife was just found murdered.  Behind the Science Museum''.
   ''Oh, God, no!''.  Crushed.  ''What happened? How?''
   ''We don't know much.  We are just starting the investigation.  May I ask....''
   '' I was with her at our annual  celebration. The annual celebration of  the Geology Circle. During the course of the evening I started feeling a bit sick.  Something I ate, I suppose. I told her I just had to get back home.  She wanted to come back with me.  I just said no. She was having such a good time. I wish I'd listened to her but i insisted she stay and  enjoy herself''.
   ''Can you think of anyone who could have this to her?''
   ''No.  Absolutely not. Everybody loved her''.
   ''Do you want to call someone? Do you have anyone who can be with you in these difficult times?''
   ''No.  I will be ok.  I will manage''.
   ''I am sorry for your loss'' she said, handing him her card, ''call me if you think of anything''.
   She returned to her car and drove back to the yard, a feeling of unease at the back of her mind.  She was sitting at her desk. looking at Lord Blair's biography on Face Book and looking at the Geology Circle of Friends as well, when the inspector arrived and stood next to her.
   ''Found anything of interest yet?''
   ''No sir, you?''
   Well, I talked to the night porter.  he gave me the guest list.  A hundred people total.  mostly couples.  Not surprisingly he did not notice anything out of the ordinary and nothing was reported.   People were drinking, eating, dancing, having fun.  The usual.  Shall we split the list and  start calling people?''
   No sooner said than done.
   While her boss was busy with his half of the pile, she did the same with hers. her eyes caught the name of Jeffrey Miles, a person arrested years ago for mail fraud.  She checked the particulars, called him and made arrangements to see him at ten o'clock at his workplace in the City.
   ''Good morning, sergeant.  What can I do for you?  It is not everyday that I receive a visit from such an elegant policewoman''.
   A brief nod.  ''You were at the annual Geology Circle of Friends annual gathering last night''.
   ''Yes, and?''
   ''You haven't heard?''  
   ''No. What?"
   ''Lady Ashley Blair was found dead behind the  Science Museum early this morning''.
   ''Sad news.  I'm terribly sorry.  But why are you questionning me?''
   ''We are questionning all the people who were there''.
   ''Did you know her personnally?''
   He looked embarrassed.  Then added:  ''you might say so.  I mean, her husband was always more enthusiastic about rocks than he was about her.  If you know what I mean''.
  ''I'm afraid not,  Would you care to explain?''
   ''Ashley...I mean Lady Blair loved men.  She was not particular either'',
   ''Have you ever heard of any man she might have rejected?''
   ''And this man killed her? Possible. Or even a jealous type, you know. Even if a guy gets her favors for free, maybe he doesn't like for her to share the pie and will want to give her a lesson and go too far''"
   ''All possible.  But no name comes to mind?''
   ''Well, there is always Burt.  Burt Cavanaugh.  A very bad temper he has.  Quick to get furious about the smallest things''.
   Throughout the afternoon she paid visits to other men and women, meeting them separately when possible but always got similar answers.
   Towards the end of the day, inspector Paddington arrived, a big smile on his face.
    ''The cat ate a birdie?''
   ''I  think so.  There was a handkerchief under the body.  Unless this a plant we have our killer''.  He pulled the small plastic bag with the handkerchief in it.  With the initials B.C. on it.
   ''Burt Cabanaugh''.
   ''You know him?''
   ''No.  But his name came up as being quite a brute''.
   ''Ok.   We keep him for tomorrow.  This has been a long day. get home and get some rest.  I'll see you back here tomorrow morning''.
   Catherine drove the forty kilometers to he Mount Pleasant Road home in Dartford.  It gave her time to think about Jennifer, the love of her life.  jennifer needed a lot of love these days, especially because of her vaginismus problem.  She was making progress on the physical side, slow progress, but she was also consulting a psychologist  for continual support.
   As she parked in front of her house she could see the light in the living-room and glad to be finally home.
   Tea was served.  Jennifer has this way  of making her at ease, a way to make her relax, especially with the way she massaged her neck.
   A very pleasant evening, the troubles of the day left way, way behind.
   It was the next afternoon, after making the appropriate  arrangements that the inspector and Catherine knocked on the door of Burt Cavanaugh's home in Notting Hill.
   Quite a surprise on their face as they saw a tall  and rather skinny man in front of them, the very picture of a Victorian dandy.
   ''What a lovely brooch'' he said, pointing to the item in question on the lapel of Catherine's emerald green jacket, a circle of pearls with a golden heart in the middle.
   The had difficulty in seeing the man as a brute, but the inspector showed him the handkerchief and watched  for his reaction.
   ''This, darling? I have tons of them. They  are made especially for me on Saville Row.  I am so mindless, I lose them all the time''.
   As they were about to leave, Catherine asked him about the rumors that he was a brute,
  ''Exaggeration, darling. but i have a black belt in karate. A girl must be able to defend herself''.
      As they were getting back to the car, the inspector said:  ''I would like you  to have a closer look  at the security personnel employed by the museum and the sub-contractors''.
   ''Yes sir".
   it took a while to check everything.  All the alibis of the museum agents were checked and confirmed.  Also  all those of the agents of the sub-contractors except one.  Nigel Thomas.  A fine young man, spotless record.  His employer told  them  where he was working that day. They  went there directly to confront him.
   His eyes told them that they had him.  No need for him to ask them what they wanted.  he knew why they were there.
   They took him in.  He looked calm and collected but he was holding back.  Like a volcano ready to explode.
   Then his rage erupted.  he said that he was not on duty that night, as they already knew, but he new that Ashley Blair would be at the event.  ''I knew she gave it away but when I tried to get her to meet me in the backroom one time a few weeks back, she turned her nose up at me.  The night of the party, I waited around the museum.  I just hoped she'd come out at some point a cigarette as she liked to do sometimes.  That night I was lucky''.
   Catherine was jappy to put the cuffs on him.