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Christmas, Corpses, and Clockwork Kittens

Page 2

by L. A. Nisula


  Ada nodded. “Is it the right angle?”

  “I think so. But if I’m right on the height of the man on the steps and the angle of the hole, Mr. Milroy would have had to be standing on something to make the shot.”

  “How high a something?”

  “A few inches. Six or so.”

  “Then let’s look for the something.”

  We searched the room but couldn’t find anything both sturdy enough to hold Mr. Milroy and the height needed. “Maybe I got the angle wrong. I’ll take a better look.”

  “Did you bring your gloves?”

  I reached into my pocket to show her, only to realize they were my fingerless working ones.

  But Ada was distracted by something stuck in the carving on the edge of the desk. “Look at this.” She held up a strip of paper with a three-leaf clover on it.

  “That’s the same symbol on the victim’s tiepin. Do we know what that is?”

  Ada turned the paper so I could see what was on the other side. The wrapper from a stack of bank notes.

  “That’s from a bank? So he worked in a bank? You don’t suppose...”

  “I can’t see Mr. Milroy involved in bank robbery. Although Mrs. Gilington’s description of that Mr. Anderson could have fit our body.”

  “Mrs. Gilington’s description could fit almost anybody.” I leaned over to look at the bullet hole more closely. If the gesture acted as an end to the argument, that was certainly not my intention, although a nice side effect.

  But I didn’t get very far in my search. I had barely gotten positioned well enough to see into the hole when we heard someone opening the door. We both turned, expecting to see Mr. Milroy. Ada even had her hand on the basket of mechanical kits, ready to explain our presence, when a younger man walked in. He was a good six inches taller and twenty years younger than Mr. Milroy.

  I moved away from the bullet hole as subtly as I could. Ada stormed across the office and marched up to the man. “Who are you and what are you doing in Mr. Milroy’s shop?” She stared at him as if we had every right to be there.

  He looked at us, clearly confused by our presence but not willing to question Ada. “I’m Thaddeus, his nephew.”

  “I see. Is he upstairs?”

  “I... I think so.”

  “Then go upstairs and tell him that Miss Ferris and I have some things for him to take on commission.”

  Thaddeus looked at Ada, then at me, then his eyes darted to the spot where the bullet hole was. I was careful not to look at it, to act like I hadn’t seen it at all. I tried to look at anything else in the room. Unfortunately, my gaze landed on Thaddeus’s tie, more specifically his tie clasp. Before I could tell myself to look away, I had seen what it was. A three-leaf clover. Just like the bank notes. Just like the victim’s pin. I tore my gaze away.

  “What are you staring at?” So he had noticed.

  Since he’d noticed, I might as well try to learn something about it. “That’s an interesting tie clasp.”

  He glanced down like he didn’t know what I was talking about. When he realized what it was, he snatched it off. “It’s from my last job. I shouldn’t be wearing it.”

  I tried to think of a way to distract him, but it was Ada who marched forward. “Young man, what on earth are you talking about? I’ve had enough of this nonsense. March upstairs this instant and get your uncle.”

  I edged towards the back door. If I could get to the alley outside, I could run for help. Ada seemed able to handle Thaddeus for a few minutes anyways.

  Thaddeus reached behind him. Ada grabbed his arm and snapped it forward before he had a chance to react. He was holding a small revolver awkwardly. Wherever he’d been hiding it, he hadn’t been able to grip it properly when he drew it. Ada snatched it out of his hand. “Young man, really. Does your uncle know you’re carrying this around?” Ada unloaded the gun and tossed the bullets behind the file cabinet. “I will be certain to have words with him about this.”

  While Ada insisted on being shown to Mr. Milroy so she could detail Thaddeus’s behavior, I kept creeping towards the back door. It seemed like it would work until I brushed against a crate of rolled butcher paper making it crackle. Thaddeus saw what I was doing at once. I tried to make it to the door anyway, but Thaddeus wasn’t hampered by skirts and caught up to me before I could manage it. He twisted my arm behind my back and marched me to the center of the office. “You are going to stand here while I find some rope.”

  As soon as his back was turned, I glanced around the room. Ada wasn’t there. She must have dashed out the office door while Thaddeus was distracted by me and gone for help. I just had to stay alive for a little while.

  And that seemed less likely when I realized Thaddeus wasn’t looking for rope, or if he was, he was doing it remarkable close to where Ada had dropped his bullets. I didn’t have Ada’s schoolmarm-ish knack for intimidating people. Our basket was within reach. I grabbed the nearest box out of it and waited until Thaddeus was bent over the file cabinet, rattling it and making enough noise that I could creep across the room. He looked over his shoulder as I approached. I darted forward and slammed the box over his head before he could straighten up. It was one of the ones that contained a tea-stirring kitten, which had a steel base that filled the bottom of the box. It didn’t knock him out, but it did make him stagger back and crash into a wall of shelves. I hit him again on the head, then a few times in the right knee since it was in a better position for me to reach.

  I was moving on to his left knee when I heard voices outside. “Thaddeus, what in the world is going on?” The door opened. “Gracious. First you go inviting that no-good friend of yours that got you fired from the bank to stay in my spare room—incidentally, you can tell Mr. Anderson that he owes me nine and six for the whiskey he drank last night. Now I find you crashing around back. What if we had customers out front? Do you think anyone would buy a Christmas goose with this going on in the back? And what on earth are you doing to Miss Ferris?”

  “Looking for bullets behind the file cabinet,” I told him so he would know only extreme provocation would lead me to attempt to break someone's kneecaps.

  Thaddeus tried to scuttle away from me. He dragged himself to his feet. I held the box ready to strike again if he should try to go for the door or the bullets. “You don’t understand, Uncle. She just went crazy and....”

  I never got to hear the end of his lie. Constable Polwarth burst through the door. He yanked Thaddeus’s arms behind his back and cuffed them in place. Inspector Wainwright pushed around Mr. Milroy, who didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see him, and went to see to the prisoner. Ada came in behind him. I hurried over to make certain she was all right.

  “That was very fast.”

  “I found Constable Polwarth just down the street.”

  Constable Polwarth looked up from his prisoner. “I lost you two by Mrs. Gilington’s when she stopped me to ask about a dead body someone had told her about.”

  “Lost us. You mean you were following us?”

  “That’s right.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Inspector Wainwright was deeply engrossed in studying the carpet where I’d found the remains of the hydrogen peroxide stain. “Inspector Wainwright told me to. Well, he said the two of you could get in almost as much trouble as Miss Pengear and needed to be protected from yourselves, but it amounts to the same thing.”

  “It amounts to him knowing we’d solve his case for him.”

  Mr. Milroy shook his head. “Well, it’s lucky Thaddeus didn’t manage to reach the bullets, or you could have been in serious trouble.” It seemed Ada had related the entire story to all three of them as they were coming for Thaddeus.

  Inspector Wainwright looked up from the carpet. “That is why investigation is no place for amateurs, who are liable to get shot or worse.”

  Ada shrugged. “There was no danger of that.”

  “I appreciate your confidence in Miss Ferris’s abilities, but...”

  Ada
slipped her hand into her pocket and produced a handful of bullets. “You certainly don’t think I was foolish enough to leave these bullets where he could find them, do you? I take it our body was this Mr. Anderson? Then they were both involved in the robbery Mrs. Gilington mentioned?”

  Inspector Wainwright glared at her.

  Mr. Milroy answered, “So that’s why I found all the deliveries he was supposed to be making behind the sitting-room drapes.”

  “It was self-defense!” Thaddeus yelled. “He said the bank knew we’d been taking the money, so he was going to go to the police and return it with some story, but I knew he was going to blame it all on me.”

  Ada shook her head. “You have an odd notion of what constitutes self-defense.” She dropped the bullets into Inspector Wainwright’s hand. “And you’ll find a wrapper for the bank notes on the desk. I trust these will help you to tie up the loose ends. Come along, Kate. We’d best see if we can salvage any of the Christmas sales. You can keep that particular kitten, Inspector.”

  I handed over the box I’d been battering Thaddeus with and enjoyed the look of irritation on Inspector Wainwright’s face as we swept past him and out onto the street.

  About the Series

  This book is set in the world of the Cassie Pengear Mysteries. If you'd like to read more, the first book in the series is Killing at the Carnival. You'll find information at

  www.lanisula.com

  Cassie Pengear thought a visit to the carnival would be fun: see some shows, eat some sweets, help her landlady’s nephew decide if the cowboy was real or an actor. But then the cowboy shot the volunteer, and he didn’t get up. Now Cassie has a ten-year-old boy insisting the cowboy isn’t a killer and a landlady insisting she help solve the killing at the carnival. A traditional cozy mystery with a steampunk setting 29,000 words, approx 157 pages

  Also available as part of a bundle.

  www.lanisula.com

 

 

 


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