A Drowning in Bath

by L. A. Nisula

  “Murders? Paramours? Gracious. This is a much more stimulating holiday than I was planning for. Is there anything I can do to help?” He grinned at my expression. “I can see you were expecting me to what, faint? Run off to Mr. Caldwell?”

  “You wouldn’t have been the first to faint, I’m afraid. Not even the first this month. I believe the first this week, though.”

  “All gentlemen, I would guess. Hardy, manly types who’ve never had any plan of theirs thwarted, no doubt.”

  I shrugged. He wasn’t far wrong. And he was the first person I had encountered who had real knowledge of Mr. Caldwell, and by extension Miss Caldwell, and he was willing to share it. And he hadn’t been here when the murder was committed, giving him as good an alibi as anyone here had. “If we could go somewhere where we won’t be overheard, I’ll tell you about it. Unless you’ll be missed?”

  Mr. Tompkins smiled. “Not at all. If you wouldn’t mind grabbing my elbow and steering me towards wherever you were hoping to speak? Then if Mr. Caldwell asks where I am and is told that occurred, he won’t send anyone after me. Actually, he will see it as a capital joke, which will more than make up for the inconvenience to him. It seems, since I don’t find it necessary to flaunt every time I step out with a lady, that they all assume I am incapable of it.”

  I did as instructed and led him towards the lobby. As we passed the table with the newspapers, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Caldwell’s expression. It seemed Mr. Tompkins had gauged his reaction correctly. Once we were seated on the bench partially hidden by the staircase, I began to outline the investigation so far.

  When I’d finished, Mr. Tompkins shook his head. “And then Mr. Caldwell will be at the house party and fall from a horse or succumb to a heart attack, or perhaps take his own life in grief, and Mr. Rollins will inherit his shares and become the majority owner of Caldwell Industries. I’d be inclined to admire the cleverness if it weren’t so terrible.”

  I nodded. “Now, the question is whether Mr. Rollins was aware of the plan, or if Mr. Mulgrove merely hoped to be included in the spoils.”

  “Full knowledge, I’m certain. I believe I mentioned I was his secretary? I left because he was not as...honest as I like an employer to be. And I happen to know the pair of them were close. He never had him around in town; I suspect there were some scandals he preferred not to be associated with. But he did write to him regularly, and received regular letters. Although when he went to Swinton, he never brought me along.”

  “So Mr. Mulgrove does live in Swinton?” It seemed easier to continue using the alias as that was how I thought of him.

  Mr. Tompkins nodded, “He did when I was employed by Mr. Rollins.”

  “Do you know anything about a place called Pendleford?”

  “Is that another connection?”

  “There were letters reserving rooms for Mr. Mulgrove and Miss Caldwell which were sent from a village near here but the return addresses were in Pendleford.”

  “It’s a fairly large village part way between Swinton and Manchester. It would be very easy for Mr. Mulligan, or are we calling him Mr. Mulgrove? In either case, it would be easy for him to get mail delivered there.” Mr. Tompkins sighed. “And yet you say he has an alibi. Really, the whole thing is most confusing. And sad, I seem to be forgetting that in the excitement. Miss Caldwell was a willful girl, and a bit of an idiot if I’m honest, but really she didn’t deserve to be killed like that. Certainly not to get at her father’s money.”

  “Did you like her?” I asked. I knew so little about her, even though I had met her.

  “Well enough. She never really had time for me; I was her father’s employee. We didn’t have much contact, but from what we had, she seemed a nice girl, merely more interested in her school friends than anyone at home. Not surprising considering how little time she spent there. After Mrs. Caldwell passed away, Mr. Caldwell didn’t know what to do with her or have the time and inclination to figure it out, so it was a succession of very fine boarding schools and then finishing schools. Do you know how she came to be here?”

  “It seems Mr. Mulgrove made the reservation for her, and she came with her friend Miss Morrison to meet him, although we don’t know why. We’re assuming it was to meet a young man. Would Mr. Mulgrove have facilitated something like that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think she would be foolish enough to tell him about a gentleman, but then as you say, why was she here? At least she brought someone with her,” Mr. Tompkins said with a sigh. “Although you might want to warn the girl to avoid Mr. Caldwell for the time being. Is she the one I saw slip out before the pudding?”

  I hadn’t noticed Miss Morrison leaving, but then I hadn’t seen her in the lounge either. “Possibly.”

  “Then perhaps she knows enough to keep out of his way. So what do we do about all this?”

  “Will Mr. Caldwell listen to us?”

  Mr. Tompkins considered it. “Since it concerns his safety, perhaps, but I wouldn’t stake our case on it.”

  “What about Mr. Douglas?”

  “What about him?”

  I paused. “You didn’t recognize him, did you?”

  “I me him at the police station this afternoon, but that’s not what you meant, is it? Should I have?”

  “He said Mr. Caldwell had hired him to follow his daughter.”

  Mr. Tompkins shook his head. “Had he done so, I think I would have met him on some occasion, or at the very least written out payments to him.”

  “Then why is he here?”

  Mr. Tompkins didn’t have an answer for that. “I suppose you would have to ask him, and then rely on him to be truthful. But I should return to the lounge before Mr. Caldwell starts making jokes at the expense of your honor. I will listen for anything that could be useful.”

  I watched Mr. Tompkins cross the lobby and was debating whether or not I ought to return when I heard my name.

  “Miss Pengear?”

  I turned to find Miss Morrison standing at the foot of the staircase.

  “I was hoping I would see you. I have a dilemma, and I thought you would know what to do.”

  “Of course, I’ll help if I can.” Even thought I really didn’t want any more problems tonight.

  Miss Morrison led me up to her room. “Mr. Caldwell is having Angela’s things sent away, so Mr. Tompkins asked if I would be certain there was nothing of hers left in the room.”

  That sounded odd. “You met Mr. Tompkins?”

  “No, not actually. He slipped a note under my door sometime this afternoon, but he’d signed it Charles Tompkins, and I know he’s her father’s secretary; she mentioned him once or twice. She had to put her requests for pocket money through him. Anyway, I was poking around, and I found this under the cushions of the window seat.” She produced a letter from the drawer of the writing desk. “You can read it, if you like.”

  I took the envelope from her and pulled the letter out.

  “My dearest Angela,

  I have made the arrangements. I cannot wait until we can sit together in the gardens and discuss the future If you feel you must have a chaperone, of course you should bring someone, but be certain it is someone who will be sympathetic to our romance. Is there a friend from school who might be willing to assist us? In any case, you will find everything you need enclosed, including a pair of train tickets should you decide a chaperone is needed. I await your arrival with bated breath. Remember, a yellow rose.

  Your own,

  Radcliff.”

  Miss Morrison watched me as I folded the letter and put it back inside the envelope. She made no move to take it back from me as she asked, “What should I do with it? I know the police need to see it, but I don’t think Inspector Sanders will do anything with it. He’ll just say it’s further proof that Mr. Rivers did it, and his name isn’t even Radcliff.”

  The police needed to see it, of course, but perhaps not until I’d poked at it a bit. After all, it was after dinner already; surely they couldn’t ex
pect me to walk to the station at this hour. “Would you like me to take it?”

  “I was hoping you would ask. And I won’t say a word about it, in case you can’t get it to Inspector Sanders right away.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. And if you find anything else, I’ll be happy to advise you.”

  I left Miss Morrison’s room and went back ours to consider the letter. I read it through twice, but still had no idea what it meant for our case, only that it was the best clue I’d gotten yet, and that meant the police needed to see it. But Miss Morrison was right about Inspector Sanders; he would probably say Mr. Rivers used a false name, which made absolutely no sense as her father apparently approved of him. The difficulty was that I knew from the cards I’d typed up that no one else staying at the hotel was named Radcliff either, or at least it wasn’t the name they had given at registration. If only I could see the letters that had been sent requesting reservations again; then I could compare the handwriting. But it had been the day clerk who had let me see them the first time, and I doubted he’d be there now. Still, it was worth at least looking. And it was late enough that people would be leaving the lounge, so it would not seem odd if I went down but didn’t return there.

  Chapter 18

  THE VISIT TO THE LOBBY proved to be more useful that I’d thought. The desk clerk on duty definitely did not look like the sort of person who would share information with me no matter how important to my case, but I did see Mr. Tompkins going into the shop. He might have had access to some of Miss Caldwell’s letters and it was possible he could identify the handwriting, or at the very least rule out a few people, Mr. Rivers for a start.

  Mr. Tompkins was gathering up a large number of evening editions of newspapers from the rack at the front of the shop. He noticed me at once. “If you were looking for any of these, I can probably help. I think I’ve seen every newspaper in England at this point. Mr. Caldwell does like to stay informed.”

  “It seems this affair is a bit of an inconvenience for him,” I said before realizing Mr. Tompkins might actually like his employer.

  “Just about everything is unless it makes money. Were you looking for something? If I’m in the way...”

  “You’re what I was looking for.”

  “Quite a coincidence, as I was going to look for you when I’d finished with these. It’s most likely of no importance, but I found out why Mr. Mulligan is using another name, or why he says he is, at least. He says one of his cousin’s companies is looking into buying some buildings here, and they don’t want anyone to know about it and raise the prices, so he’s using an assumed name as he looks into the properties.”

  “Is that a common practice?”

  Mr. Tompkins shrugged and picked up a fifth newspaper. “It’s not unheard of, and Mr. Caldwell seems to accept it with no question. But you had something to ask me?”

  “Miss Morrison found a letter addressed to Miss Caldwell under the cushions on the window seat, and I was hoping you’d take a look at it.”

  “She was still hiding things there? Even I knew she did that at home, and the maids had no trouble finding anything she wanted to keep secret. It’s how her father found out about all sorts of plots. Give me a moment to pay for these, and I’ll see if I can tell you anything.”

  I offered to help him carry the newspapers, but he insisted there was no point to us both being covered in newsprint. It ended up neither of us was, as the hotel pressed all of their newspapers to set the ink before selling them. When he’d finished his purchases, we sat in a quiet corner of the lobby behind a plant and I handed over the letter.

  Mr. Tompkins read it in silence. “This is odd, decidedly odd. To begin with, I don’t know anyone connected to the Caldwells named Radcliff as a given name or a surname, not that I know everyone connected with them to be sure, particularly her, but still, it’s odd.” He continued to stare at the page.

  “You said, ‘To begin with.’ Does that mean there’s more?”

  “It does. You see, I recognize the handwriting, and that is decidedly odd.”

  I realized he was thinking the matter through and let him be until he’d collected his thoughts.

  When he was ready, he said, “This is Mr. Mulligan’s handwriting, or Mr. Mulgrove, as you’ve been calling him.”

  That certainly was not who I would have chosen as her secret admirer. “Is there any reason he would be writing her love letters?”

  “I have no idea. He’s married, to begin with, although having met the woman, I doubt she’d mind him flirting with a young lady so long as she was rich enough to be worthwhile. But Miss Caldwell was not the sort of girl to go chasing after older men. Mr. Langley here was much more her type, or the fellow who runs the fish and chip stand on the corner, or even Mr. Longridge. Not Mr. Mulgrove. And his first name is not Radcliff. Was he using that name here, to your knowledge?”

  “No, I got a look at the registration cards—I typed them up, to be exact—and no one here is using the name Radcliff.”

  “That was clever of you. So why would he send her a letter asking her to come to Bath, and paying for the trip, which I assure you is just as odd as the rest, under an assumed name?”

  I was back to the idea of her anonymous amour again. “And the most disappointing part is, he has an airtight alibi. He was reporting a theft to the police.”

  Mr. Tompkins sighed. “My first thought is that the theft was faked, but I’m going to assume you questioned to the officer he was speaking to?”

  “I did, and he was there the entire afternoon. The inspector brought him tea as he had to wait so long.”

  “A pity.” He handed back the letter. “I wish I could be of more assistance.”

  I stared at the letter. “Did she know Mr. Mulligan before this trip?”

  “I doubt it. Although she may have met Mr. Rollins a time or two. But if Mr. Mulligan was sending her letters, I suppose she must have, just not through any channels I would know. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

  “You have been, though. At least now I know who wrote this. If only I knew why.”

  “I happy to have been of some assistance. Should you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  I watched Mr. Tompkins go upstairs with his newspapers and tried to figure out what this latest bit of information meant. Clearly Mr. Mulgrove had arranged for Miss Caldwell to be here, and equally clear was that he had an alibi. I supposed it was possible that the pair of them were actually having a romantic rendezvous. But then who had murdered her? If it wasn’t connected to her coming to Bath, what was it connected to?

  Maybe it would look clearer in the morning. Until then, I could at least establish if they knew each other and if Miss Caldwell was expecting him as her anonymous suitor. If anyone in the hotel would know if Miss Caldwell had seemed to recognize Mr. Mulgrove when they first met, it would be Miss Morrison. It wasn’t terribly late, so I went back up to her room.

  When I got there, I tapped softly on Miss Morrison’s door in case she was asleep. The door opened a crack almost at once. “Miss Pengear, do come in.” Miss Morrison held the door open for me. I could see she was in her nightgown, but all the lamps were still lit and her hair was still pinned up, so she didn’t seem to have gone to bed.

  “I didn’t want to bother you, but I wanted to ask you something about Miss Caldwell.”

  “Of course, but I think I’ve said I didn’t know her as well as we’d made it appear.”

  “Still did you know anything about the gentleman you thought she was meeting?”

  “Not really, just bits and pieces that she let slip. As I said, she didn’t really confide in me.”

  “What about his age?”

  “Oh, he would have been our age. Angela thought Mr. Rivers was too old for her, although I can appreciate an older gentleman. We have an art history tutor... But that wasn’t what you were asking.”

  “So she would not have been interested in someone like Mr. Mulgrove?”

  �
��Heavens, no. He’s old enough to be her father.”

  “Did she say anything about him when she saw him?”

  Miss Morrison considered the question before she answered it. “I don’t think so, but then perhaps she didn’t see him. I don’t think I did before she died. We spent most of the day out and about, so if he wasn’t at breakfast or dinner, we wouldn’t have seen him. Why?”

  I debated telling her about the handwriting, but I had the impression that, while she could be trusted to keep a secret in theory, she was the sort to blurt out something she shouldn’t at the wrong moment, rather like Milly. Instead I asked, “Do you think she would have come here to meet a man she’d only corresponded with but never met in person?”

  Miss Morrison looked surprised. “I hadn’t considered that, but now that you mention it, yes, that is exactly the sort of thing she would do. It would explain why we’re at a small hotel, where it’s easy to see people and easy to be thrown together. And she said something about Bath being so safe, especially with little old dears like the Bates sisters around. And she was very interested in all the gentlemen’s names when we arrived, and she kept looking at people as if she were trying to see some resemblance. It could have been that she was trying to match a description she’d been given. Now that you say it, it’s entirely possible that she hadn’t met this Radcliff of the letter before coming here. Does that help somehow?”

  “It might.” If only Mr. Mulgrove didn’t have such a good alibi. And she had been pleased to see whoever it was in the pool. If she’d realized Mr. Mulgrove was her Radcliff, I would think she’d have been upset to find her secret amour was that much older than her, considering what Miss Morrison had told me of her tastes. “Thank you.”

  “I just know you’ll figure it out.”

  “I’ll do my best. I won’t keep you from your bed any longer. Good night.”