by L. A. Nisula
Miss Morrison saw me to the door. I walked slowly back to my room. Was there any possibility that Mr. Mulgrove had bribed Inspector Humphries? I sighed. It was a nice thought, but no, Inspector Humphries had struck me as a very good policeman, not one to take bribes over little things, certainly not over something as large as murder. Even Inspector Sanders wouldn’t provide a murderer an alibi. Milly was right, this was the most frustrating case. I’d witnessed the crime, I knew how it was committed, I had a motive, but I simply couldn’t make all the pieces fit together. And every new clue seemed to make it harder. The better the clue, the worse the mess. If this had been Inspector Burrows’s case, or even Inspector Wainwright’s, I would have left it to them. But Inspector Sanders seemed determined to ignore evidence and see an innocent man convicted if it would appease a powerful man like Mr. Caldwell. And as tempting as it was to go home and abandon this mess, I was seriously considering asking if we could stay on a day or two to see if anything new developed.
Chapter 19
WHEN I ENTERED OUR ROOM, Milly was already there, sitting at the vanity in her nightgown, unpinning her hair. “Cassie, I was starting to wonder if I should worry.”
She didn’t sound as if she had actually begun worrying, so I didn’t feel too badly. “I saw Miss Morrison. She’d found a letter Miss Caldwell had hidden and was wondering what to do with it.”
That got Milly’s attention. “What did she do with it?”
“I said I’d take care of it for her.” I held the letter out for Milly to read.
Milly read it through, then handed it back. “I take it that’s not Mr. Rivers’s handwriting? He’d have no reason to send secret letters; her father approved of him. And besides, I don’t think he was the sort for overblown romance, not with her, not when he has Miss Jeffries.”
“Mr. Tompkins says it’s Mr. Mulgrove’s handwriting.”
“Mr. Mulgrove? That makes no sense. Miss Caldwell would never have come here to see Mr. Mulgrove. I mean, you’ve seen him. Can you imagine anyone coming here to see him? I suppose if he’s rich enough he might attract someone, but Miss Caldwell had plenty of her own money, or she would soon.”
“I thought perhaps she didn’t know who she was meeting.”
“You mean a secret pen pal? I suppose that’s possible. There’s something very romantic about a secret admirer, and she seemed the sort to fall for it.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about her on such a short acquaintance.”
“Miss Morrison and Miss Grangeway and I have been talking.”
“Well, a secret admirer is starting to sound the most likely scenario, only Mr. Mulgrove is the one person who has a really good alibi, considering he was actually at the police station reporting a crime to an actual police inspector.”
Milly turned back to the mirror and returned to brushing her hair. “This is all too confusing. All the connections point to the one person we know wasn’t there. Unless Mr. Tompkins isn’t telling the truth about the handwriting.”
I stared down at the letter. Milly was right. I only had Mr. Tompkins’s word that this was Mr. Mulgrove’s handwriting, and only his word that he didn’t know about Mr. Douglas being hired by Miss Caldwell’s father either. I’d assumed Mr. Douglas had lied about who hired him since he’d lied to us about who he was to begin with, but Mr. Tompkins could just as easily have pretended not to know him. And I had no way to check the handwriting, unless I could get my hands on the reservation letters again. I could attempt to ask Mr. Caldwell, but I doubted he’d answer, and Mr. Tompkins no doubt knew that. But why would he lie about the handwriting? Why not simply say he didn’t recognize it? I didn’t like the only answer I came up with: that the handwriting was Mr. Tompkins’s and he was trying to divert suspicion from himself.
At least I could probably trust him on Mr. Mulgrove’s true identity, if not his opinion of the man. That was something that could be verified by other people if I’d wanted to. Although, I wondered, if he were using an assumed name, how had he made his report to the police about the theft? Was it that simple to report something under an assumed name? If this had been London, I would have assumed the police were too busy to pay attention to what appeared to be a law-abiding citizen, and I’d be able to drop by Inspector Burrows’s office and ask him. Here, I was on my own.
I locked the letter away in my trunk until I could bring it to Inspector Sanders in the morning. Maybe things would be clearer then.
~ * ~ * ~
But things did not look any better the next morning. I took the note out of my trunk and stared at it while I dressed, but I couldn’t make anything useful out of it.
As Milly was finishing her hair, she finally noticed I had something on my mind. “You’re awfully quiet. Thinking about the case?”
“It’s just frustrating. It’s our last full day, and every clue we find seems to push us farther away from the solution.”
“All right,” Milly said, “what do we know?”
“Miss Caldwell was lured down here by Mr. Mulgrove for some reason, although he has an alibi for her murder. She went to the baths and saw someone she knew but wasn’t expecting to see. They lured her away from the main group, drugged her with chloroform, and drowned her, then hurried away when we raised the alarm, leaving a heavy cigarette case in her pocket to keep her under a little longer.”
“So we simply have to figure out who she saw.”
I sighed. Would that it were so easy. “Let’s go down to breakfast.”
“That’s a good idea. Some food will help us think.”
But the food did nothing to help me think. Mr. Mulgrove had an alibi, so the note he’d written could have been part of some other plot involving Miss Caldwell. I’d ruled out Mr. Fredrickson. That left all of the other men. We had seen Mr. Douglas at the baths, and I still wasn’t completely certain he’d told me the truth about anything. Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Gibson had both been there, but I didn’t see a connection between them and Miss Caldwell. I’d have to ask Mr. Tompkins. Perhaps one of the men had a connection to Mr. Rollins, as he was the one who stood to inherit soon enough. Provided I could trust Mr. Tompkins. I hadn’t checked his alibi too closely and all I knew about him was what he’d told me. Could he have taken an earlier train down and committed the murder? And I should probably include the staff and Mr. Fellcroft. And what if Miss Jeffries was lying about seeing Mr. Rivers in London? If they were sweet on each other, it was certainly possible. Perhaps his alibi wasn’t as good as I’d thought. Too many suspects, and despite all of the evidence I had, nothing to make any of them fit.
“You’ve gone quiet again,” Milly said as she pushed her eggs around on her plate.
“Still thinking about suspects.”
“Have you got any?”
“Too many.” I started to tell her about the direction my thoughts were taking, but I’d only gotten as far as speculating on Mr. Armstrong’s or Mr. Gibson’s possible involvement when she started fidgeting.
She cut me off when I started talking about the staff. “So what are you going to do next?”
“That’s the question. I suppose I’ll have to bring the letter to Inspector Sanders this morning. Then I suppose I’ll try talking to everyone again. Perhaps someone saw Miss Caldwell talking to someone, or noticed her taking an interest in someone. I’ve really only asked Miss Morrison and the Bates sisters things like that.”
“Or maybe someone will slip and confess.” Milly seemed to think that was likely, although I knew it was wishful thinking. “Ready to go up to back to the room?”
I nodded and followed Milly into the lobby.
“Will you need me this morning?” I could tell Milly was hoping I’d say no.
“I don’t think so. I’ll take another look at the note then bring it over to Inspector Sanders. I don’t want him to think I’m withholding evidence, and I don’t think I can learn anything else from it. Why, did you have plans?”
“I was going to see if Miss Morrison wanted to
go out a bit. I have the feeling she’d rather not spend too much time in the hotel while Mr. Caldwell is here. Hey now!” As Milly passed the reception desk, she bumped into Mr. Longridge as he was gathering his mail.
“I am sorry, Miss Prynne. You’re not hurt, are you?”
“I don’t think so, but you do need to be more careful and watch where you’re going. That’s the second time I’ve nearly run you down.”
I thought that was a sign Milly needed to be more careful, but I held my tongue.
“Although I must say, that’s a much nicer scent you’re wearing. Quite an improvement from the last time.”
“What?” Mr. Longridge stared at her, clearly confused.
“I wouldn’t go back to the one they sell in the lobby. It’s a bit cloying. This citrus is much nicer.”
I froze and tried to keep my expression bland. Someone from the hotel that Miss Caldwell didn’t expect to see. We hadn’t seen Mr. Longridge at the baths, but we had seen him not long after, after we’d hurried out of the baths to change and go to the police. There would have been time for him to change while we were being questioned, or at least put clothes on over the bathing costume, but perhaps not time for his hair to dry or the scent from the water to have worn off, especially if he hadn’t been able to make it back to his room with the quick arrival of the police and everyone milling around trying to figure out what had happened.
I risked a glance at Mr. Longridge. He was still looking at Milly as if he didn’t understand what she was talking about. Good, if he hadn’t made the connection, we would be all right for the moment, but we needed proof. And Milly needed to shut up. I spotted Mr. Langley near the stairs. I touched her elbow. “Is Mr. Langley trying to get your attention?”
“Is he?” Milly looked in Mr. Langley’s direction. His instinct for being looked at seemed to be functioning as well as ever. As soon as her gaze landed on him, he looked over and smiled. “I’d better go and see what he wants. You’ll excuse me, Mr. Longridge?” She hurried across the room.
As soon as she was gone, I excused myself as well and went looking for Mr. Tompkins. I didn’t want Mr. Longridge to see me talking to anyone connected to the investigation so soon after Milly had noticed his cologne.
Mr. Tompkins was hiding in a corner of the dining room by the window, using one of the empty tables to go through a stack of mail. He started when he heard me approach, then relaxed when he saw it was me. “Miss Pengear, can I be of some assistance?”
He looked slightly taken aback when I said, “Yes, you can. Would you find Mr. Douglas and ask him if he located the owner of the cigarette case he found? If not, tell him to ask Mr. Longridge if he’s been missing it, but above all don’t say how it got into his possession.”
Mr. Tompkins went slightly pale. “I take it this is part of finding Miss Caldwell’s killer?” When I nodded, he tucked the letters into his pocket and left without further questions.
I gave Mr. Tompkins enough time to get away, then went to the door and peered into the lobby. If I was lucky, Mr. Longridge still hadn’t made the connection, and I could hurry out to the police with my new theory before Milly or I were in danger.
Unfortunately, Mr. Longridge was in the lobby, and standing suspiciously near the front door, flipping through the mail he’d collected without looking at it. If he was waiting to see if I would go to the police, I needed to find another way out. I slipped through the lobby, staying close to the wall until I reached the lounge door. Miss Bates and Miss Emmaline were sitting by the window. I hurried over. “Do you know of another way out of the hotel?”
I heard Mr. Armstrong say, “Fancy a game of cards, Mr. Longridge?” far too close to the lounge door for my comfort. It was quite possible he’d seen me trying to hide where I was going.
“There’s a path out of the garden, past the lime trees, if that’s what you mean,” Miss Emmaline said. “It lets out onto Plum Street.”
That would put me on the wrong side of the hotel for the police station, but if I went a little bit out of my way, I could still get there without passing directly in front of the hotel entrance. “That’s perfect, thank you.” I hurried out the glass doors to the garden. I walked as quickly as I could without seeming to run across the lawn, in case someone noticed and remarked on it to Mr. Longridge.
Once I was among the lime trees—which I would have called linden trees, as they did not produce any sort of green citrus fruit—the path was easy to see. It came from the direction of the kitchen door and led to a gate that seemed to be a staff entrance which locked but only required a key to enter from the outside, not to exit from inside. As soon as I passed through it, I began to feel safer. If Mr. Longridge stayed in the lobby, he wouldn’t realize I had left the hotel. Perhaps he would think I was looking for Mr. Douglas or Milly. I hoped she would have enough sense to avoid him.
Hoping for Milly to have sense was like hoping it wouldn’t rain in England. I almost considered going back to warn her, but it seemed the best way to protect us both was to get to the police station and bring someone back with me. Assuming I could convince Inspector Sanders to take me seriously this time. Of course, I had the connection now, and that made everything else fall into place. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it sooner.
As I crossed Hill Street, I glanced down it in the direction of the hotel, but I didn’t see anyone outside the entrance. I relaxed a little. That was good. Hopefully, Mr. Longridge was still in the lobby waiting for me to leave. Or looking for me in the lounge. Or perhaps he thought I was investigating further before bringing the theory to the police. After all, they hadn’t believed anything I’d said up until this point; why would I think they would now? Except that now I knew what had happened, and could lay most of the case in front of them.
It was the one possibly I hadn’t considered, which in retrospect was ridiculous to have ignored. A hired killer. Mr. Mulgrove had hired Mr. Longridge, although why had he then come himself and taken what seemed to be a foolish risk? Perhaps he had wanted to be certain Mr. Longridge got the correct girl. Miss Caldwell and Miss Morrison had been the sort to switch names or some such foolishness, and looked enough alike that, if there hadn’t been a photograph, it would have been hard to identify which one was his target by a description. Or perhaps he hadn’t fully trusted Mr. Longridge. Or thought his alibi was good enough that it wouldn’t matter. And really, it was. I had no proof against him, only Mr. Longridge.
I turned onto the next street which ran parallel to the front of the hotel, planning to take it in the direction of the police station and completely avoid the hotel entrance. I was halfway down the block when an arm seemed to come out of nowhere and fastened around my neck. I barely had time to get my own hands up so there was something between the arm and my throat, preventing me from being strangled at once. I recognized the smell of the citrus cologne that Milly had remarked on. If I’d needed proof that Mr. Longridge was my attacker, that was it.
As I struggled with him, I remembered how Miss Caldwell had died and moved my left hand up to cover my nose and mouth while trying to keep my forearm pushing Mr. Longridge’s arm away from my throat. I had no idea if my hand would be of any use against chloroform, but it was the best I could do. I screamed as loudly as I could, in case I needed to hold my breath later if a chloroform rag was produced.
I glanced at the street. There were no carriages, so no one to yell for, but if I could break out if his grasp I might be able to run to somewhere with more people. Perhaps into one of the shops Mr. Langley had taken us to? That would be away from the police station, but there would be people, and someone to summon the police, perhaps even a constable on his beat.
And then I heard running footsteps behind me. Mr. Longridge dropped his arm at once. I turned to run towards whoever was coming—anyone would be better than Mr. Longridge—only to discover I didn’t need to. Three police constables were almost upon us, having run all the way down the length of the block. The one closest to us called out, “T
hat man bothering you, miss?”
“Yes, he’s threatening me.” That should get them to take Mr. Longridge away somewhere long enough for me to get some kind of proof.
“I did not,” Mr. Longridge snapped. “She misunderstood.”
“All right, sir,” the first constable said as he grabbed Mr. Longridge’s arm. “Come with us, and you can explain everything she misunderstood down at the station.”
I watched Mr. Longridge struggle with the police, wondering if I should start for the station again on my own or wait to see if they wanted to ask me anything.
“Are you all right, Miss Pengear?” Mr. Langley had come up behind me, panting from running after the policemen, I assumed.
“I’m fine, thank you. I take it I have you to thank for my rescue?”
“Not really. The Bates sisters told me you seemed concerned and wanted to get out of the hotel without being seen, probably by Mr. Longridge. I know I’m not much help, but I do know the city, and there’s one pub near the hotel where the constables like to go after their shifts end. The chops are particularly good there, and they serve it very quickly. So I nipped round and found these three there and told them there might be a lady in distress and a possible killer trying to escape.”
At that moment, Mr. Longridge made the mistake of attempting to hit the constable trying to lead him away, which caused one of the other constables to produce his handcuffs and see that Mr. Longridge was thoroughly restrained before they marched him off down the street towards the police station.
“I take it Mr. Longridge is our man?”
“I think so, yes, although Mr. Mulgrove most likely instigated it.”
Mr. Langley nodded as if it didn’t surprise him, although perhaps nothing did at this point. “Would you like me to walk you to the station, then, or back to the hotel?”
If Mr. Mulgrove was going to escape, there wasn’t much I could do about it. “The station, then I can explain all of this to Inspector Sanders.” It was a pity I hadn’t put Miss Morrison’s note in my pocket or I could have delivered it at the same time. Still, I was bringing Inspector Sanders his killer.
