by L. A. Nisula
“Anything I can do to help.”
I wasn’t about to turn down an offer like that. “It would be helpful to know more about her, her past, who might have a motive, who knew she was here. Anything about her, really.”
“Of course. Is there somewhere besides the lobby where we could talk?”
The only place I could think of was the lounge. I hoped Mr. Langley would prove to be as distracting a singer as he was in the baths. “Through here.”
In the lounge, Mr. Langley was at the piano, turning pages while Miss Grangeway played and Milly and Miss Morrison hovered, making suggestions from the way Milly was gesturing. He had a perfectly respectable voice. I could see why he’d said it wouldn’t allow him to take to the stage; it didn’t carry well, but it was quite pleasing for an evening’s entertainment. And it was keeping Milly and the others busy enough not to notice Mr. Rivers and I slip into a quiet corner on the other side of the card tables. Miss Emmaline noticed, at least she looked in our direction, moved her hand as if to wave, spotted my companion, and hurriedly turned away.
We settled into a pair of chairs by the window so it appeared we were looking out over the garden. When we were settled, Mr. Rivers asked, “What would you like to know?”
Everything seemed too vague, so I started with, “You were her fiancé. How did the engagement come about?”
“It was an arranged marriage, as I’m sure you’ve surmised. If I’d had my way... But that doesn’t matter. Our family estates are near each other, next door, you see. Neither is really large enough on its own to be an estate, but our fathers thought if we married, we could combine them into something grand. My family was in timber then made a pile building railroads. Now we rake it in with rents and property. Her family owns mining companies.”
“So you had planned to meet her here?” That seemed odd, as her father clearly approved. Why the subterfuge if not a disapproving family?
“No, I didn’t know she was planning to come to Bath, or even that she had left London, until a few days ago.”
“Then how did you end up here looking for her?”
“I went to call on her, and her father told me she was staying with some friends in the Lake District. I thought that was odd, as I knew she didn’t particularly like the people she was supposed to be staying with, and it was doubly odd when I ran into her maid at the train station leaving to visit her family in Kent. There is no way Angela, Miss Caldwell, I mean, would travel without her maid.”
“Her father didn’t think that was odd?”
“He doesn’t really notice things, at least things not related to mining. When she went away to school, she never took a maid with her. He probably thought visiting was the same thing. But I knew her better, and the only reason I could think of for her leaving behind her maid was to hide. And the only person I could think of her hiding from was me. I know our engagement isn’t the first choice for either of us, but if she was that upset about it, I certainly didn’t want to force her hand, so I went to the Lake District to talk to her, but she wasn’t there. The people she was supposed to be staying with had no idea she was thinking of visiting. So I went back to London and spoke to some of the maids in her father’s household. One of them remembered seeing a book on Bath by her nightstand, which was unusual enough to bring me down here. I’ve been checking at all of the hotels since.”
“And how did you realize she was staying at the Fellcroft?”
“I saw Miss Morrison out walking and followed her here. I knew she was a friend of Miss Caldwell’s, although I hadn’t thought they were close. Still, it seemed too convenient to be a coincidence.”
It seemed logical, and that could certainly be what brought him to Bath. “How long have you been here?”
“I arrived this morning.”
So, after the murder. “And where were you yesterday?”
“In London. Wait, are you suspecting me?”
I was, but I certainly wasn’t going to say that. He was not the sort to understand that I had also suspected Mr. Fredrickson and the Bates sisters until I’d been able to rule them out. “Trying to rule you out is more accurate.”
“I suppose...”
“The police are going to want far more than that from you if they ever come around to believing me, seeing as you were engaged to her.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I was in London, and several people saw me, including Mr. Caldwell’s staff. I spoke to Betsy, Elizabeth, Miss Jeffries, his upstairs maid, one of them, she would remember. She was the one who told me about the book.”
It took me a moment to realize that was all one person. “And this Miss Jeffries could swear that you were in London yesterday?”
“Yes, we had tea together... I mean, yes, she saw me yesterday afternoon.”
So he seemed to have an alibi. That was something. “What about motive? Do you know of anyone who would want her dead?”
“Certainly not. She was a very sweet girl. I’m sure she didn’t have any enemies at all.” He seemed quite upset by that idea, which made me wonder if he was fiercely protecting her honor now that she was gone—which lead to the question of why he would do so—or hiding someone with a motive, perhaps even from himself.
“Not even for her money?”
“She didn’t have any, not yet. Once we’d married, that would have been a motive, but not now.”
He still seemed irritated with me for asking about his alibi and motives, so I wracked my brain for another area of questioning that would be useful but not annoy him while I still needed his help. Before I could come up with something, Milly and Miss Grangeway were upon us.
“Cassie, Miss Grangeway wanted an introduction to Mr. Rivers.”
Of course she would. But as I doubted I would get anything else useful from him without annoying him, I obliged. “Miss Grangeway, may I present Mr. Rivers, Miss Caldwell’s fiancé.”
I could tell from her expression that fact had not been imparted to her before. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Mrs. Grangeway had come up behind her daughter in time to hear the introduction and her face changed immediately from stern to sympathetic, although I couldn’t tell if it was because she felt sorry for his loss as well, or because anyone who had been considered suitable for Miss Caldwell was certainly suitable for Miss Grangeway. “Indeed. What a terrible thing to have learned.”
Both of the Grangeways looked ready for tea and sympathy, and I was certainly not in the mood for any more awkward conversations, so I excused myself, pleading tiredness, and went up to our room. I was quite surprised when Milly followed me out, but then we were meeting Mr. Douglas after breakfast. I supposed she didn’t want to be late.
~ * ~ * ~
The next morning, we found Mr. Douglas waiting for us in the lobby after breakfast, just as he’d said. “Good morning, ladies. It looks like a lovely day for a drive. I have the carriage ordered and directions to Leighwick, so whenever you’re ready to leave, I am at your disposal.”
He was certainly more thorough than most of Milly’s gentlemen. And he seemed eager to help with our investigation, but whether that was because he really was a bored, rich gentleman looking for something amusing to do, or because he was involved and wanted to keep an eye on us I couldn’t tell. In either case, we were on our way soon after breakfast and arrived in the town square of Leighwick a bit after ten in the morning. I was relieved when Milly proposed splitting-up, she and Mr. Douglas to go walking and me to try the post office, which was located in the main shop just off the square. As I hadn’t yet figured out why Mr. Douglas was so eager to come with us, I hadn’t been certain how to convince him to leave while I was investigating the addresses, and I certainly didn’t want him there while I was doing it. Sending him off with Milly seemed the perfect solution.
The shop was easy to find, but when I entered, I was concerned that our mission had been for nothing when I saw the man behind the counter. He seemed just as unimaginative as the clerk at the pos
t office in town, but I approached and explained I had some questions about an address.
“That’d be the wife. She’s got the head for it. I don’t. Lia! Someone looking for the postmistress.”
The woman who hurried out of the back room seemed far more sympathetic. “Did you wish to mail something?”
“I was trying to sort out the puzzle of some addresses and wasn’t having any luck in Bath.”
“Henderson,” the husband muttered. “Man doesn’t know a thing. Don’t know why they let him have that post. Lia’d be better.”
“And have to leave Leighwick to take it, dear.”
“You could’ve turned it down if they’d had the courtesy to offer it. Lia’ll give you much better advice than that fool.”
Lia smiled fondly at him then turned to me. “So what is this puzzle.”
I spread the two envelopes out in front of her. “The return addresses. I’m wondering if they could be connected.”
Lia turned the envelopes towards herself and looked at the addresses in question. “Interesting coincidences, to be sure. I’m not familiar with Pendleford. Give me a minute to look it up.” She took my envelopes and went back to the shelves of books and guides over the telegraph table. I wandered around the shop.
There was a decent haberdashery section, with several knitting magazines, most several months old, but I found one from last fall with the perfect pattern for some yarn I had waiting for me back on Paddington Street. And the book selection included several Jane Austens, and as we’d left in too much of a hurry for me to pack my own, it seemed a worthwhile purchase.
By the time I’d made it through the books and stacks of knitting magazines, Lia had found what she was looking for and brought a large volume to the counter. I hurried over to see what she’d found.
“An interesting riddle, but not a coincidence. Look here.” She slid the book across the table so I could see the map that covered the two pages she had opened to. “This is the post office in Pendleton, at 7824 King Street. On the corner, you see. That is where the letter address to number 684 would go. Now this street that crosses King is Oak Street. You will notice the addresses on Oak Street all have three digits, not four. So whoever addressed these envelopes must have only just registered for the box and not known that the post office was considered to be on King, not Oak, and addressed it to 7824 King, Box 684. Now, as it is the post office, if the letter were returned, they would have understood the mistake and realized that the letter was meant for one of their post boxes. If not, an attentive postman would figure it out. When the person wrote the second letter, they had found the correct way to address it.”
Or they had known the correct way all along but had wanted to make it look like the letters had come from two different places. “It makes perfect sense. Thank you. Is this the postmark from here?”
She took the two envelopes and studied the postmarks. “Yes, it is. That’s my stamp on both of them.”
“So they were sent from here, not Pendleford? You don’t remember who posted them, do you?”
She shook her head. “If they came in to post them, I might, if they were a stranger. But they most likely dropped them in the postbox on the square. We get quite a lot of mail from travelers there. Mostly things people forgot to send to their friends until after they left Bath. And it is not unusual for them to put their home address as the return. We’re on one of the main roads North, you see. It is a bit unusual to have someone sending something to Bath from here, but I suppose forgetting can go both ways.”
I’d known it was a long shot that she’d remember, even if the letters had been sent from her desk. “Indeed. Well, thank you for all your help.” I took my envelopes back and paid for my purchases, then went looking for Milly and Mr. Douglas.
I found them eating fish and chips near the pub. At least Mr. Douglas seemed willing to pay for Milly’s meals; usually her gentlemen left it to her, which always seemed to end up with me paying. Mr. Douglas waved me over. “Was your mission a success?”
Unfortunately, telling Mr. Douglas nothing seemed incredibly rude, as he’d arranged the carriage to bring us here. “Partially. She explained the addresses to me. It’s on a corner.”
“I see. General delivery or something like that?”
He was smarter than Milly’s normal gentlemen callers, I’d give him that. “Exactly.”
“And they won’t tell you who had that box number without police approval. Pity. It was a good attempt.” He pushed one of the papers of fish towards me. “Help yourself.”
As he’d offered, I munched on some chips and half-listened to Milly describe their excursion, which seemed to involve a large number of hat shops before she finally purchased some feathers for the hat she’d already bought. I was beginning to wonder if Mr. Douglas’s interest in Milly was more serious than I’d imagined, and if not, what possible motive he could have for allowing himself to be dragged through what seemed to be every hat shop in Somerset? Surely my investigation wasn’t that interesting to him, not unless he was involved somehow.
Chapter 15
THE RIDE BACK TO THE HOTEL was dominated by Mr. Douglas telling us everything he knew about the landscape we passed. As half of it seemed true and half drawn from a guidebook on rural Scotland, I assumed he was as tired of Milly’s hats as I’d suspected. That seemed to be confirmed by the fact that, as soon as he dropped us at the hotel, he insisted he needed to return the carriage, wished us a pleasant afternoon, and was off before Milly could offer to accompany him. If Milly noticed, it didn’t seem to bother her. She clutched her parcel of feathers and started inside for our room
As I was closing the door to our room, Milly asked, “Did you find out anything that you didn’t tell Mr. Douglas?”
So she had noticed I was holding something back. I wondered if he had. “There was more than a connection between the letters. Both Miss Caldwell’s reservation request and Mr. Mulgrove’s were sent with the same return address.”
Milly dropped her parcel on top of her travel case. “How is that possible? They looked different.”
“Mr. Douglas stumbled on it with his general delivery suggestion.”
Milly smiled at the compliment to her current interest.
I ignored it and explained everything I had been told at the post office.
“So someone wanted both of them here? I wonder why. But you don’t seem terribly pleased.”
“It means the only connection we have between Miss Caldwell and one of the other guests is to Mr. Mulgrove, and he has an alibi.” I flopped down on the edge of my bed. “I suppose there could be some third party we don’t know about, but if they aren’t here, how did they arrange the murder? We’re back to Mr. Mulgrove and his alibi.”
“So we’re no closer? I didn’t realize detecting could be so frustrating. So what are we going to do?”
“If it wasn’t for his alibi, I’d think we had the start of a strong case. So I think I’ll poke at it a bit. We only have his word that he spent most of the afternoon at the police station. Perhaps I could ask the inspector in charge of the robbery investigation how long he was actually there.” Inspector Sanders hadn’t been inclined to help us, but that didn’t mean that no one at the station would speak to me.
“Then you’re going back to the station? That sounds like a good idea. You’re so good with policemen.”
That was the sort of compliment Milly gave when she wanted to get out of doing something, although for once I didn’t mind. I even thought it was safe to ask, “Did you want to come along, or did you have plans?”
“Mr. Douglas did say something about wanting to walk in the gardens after he returned the carriage, and I thought I’d join him.”
“Then I’ll go alone.” It would be much easier to ask questions without Milly blurting out details I’d rather she didn’t at every turn.
“If you don’t mind.” She didn’t seem to care if I minded or not, which didn’t bother me one bit. We both poked around our thi
ngs, her trying to find the right outfit to impress Mr. Douglas, me trying to find something that would make a police inspector take me seriously. I decided on my blue dress, mainly because Milly was eying it again, and left her debating between a pink tea gown and a green walking suit.
~ * ~ * ~
There seemed to be a great deal more activity at the police station than I remembered. At first I thought perhaps we’d stumbled on another Jack the Ripper case or something similar, then I noticed all the people rushing about were senior members of the force, not the constables I expected to see when there was some emergency, so I revised my theory to one that included some visiting dignitary. Whatever caused the chaos, it helped me. When I said I was there to see Inspector Humphries, no one asked the nature of my visit, merely pointed me in the right direction.
Inspector Humphries’s office, while small, seemed larger than any of the inspectors’ offices I’d been in at Scotland Yard. He looked up when I knocked on the open door and gestured for me to enter and sit in the chair across from his desk. “How can I be of assistance, miss?”
“I’m staying at the Fellcroft Hotel, and I was told you were the one looking into the robberies there.”
“I am, but so far it’s been ‘robbery,’ singular. Are you here to change that?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I hate for guests to be robbed on their holiday. Were you bringing me some information, then?”
“I was hoping you could give me some information.”
That confused him. “Give you information?”
It seemed it would be the truth or nothing. “Mr. Mulgrove told me he was here reporting a crime Tuesday afternoon. I was wondering if that was the case.”
