Three Bodies in London

by L. A. Nisula

  “I assume to my future husband and then to Mother. Isn’t that what we all did?”

  I nodded. That had been Mr. Virtanen’s advice, future spouse and then a family member. None of us had paid much attention at the time, as it had merely been a ploy to get Grandfather to write his and none of us were expecting to need it. I was starting to think I should have paid more attention. “Don’t use that face cream. In fact, get rid of it.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Milly, if he poisoned one jar, the rest probably are too.”

  “Why would Mr. Brentwood poison the whole lot?”

  “Not Mr. Brentwood, Mr. Farmington.”

  “Why would Mr. Farmington try to poison me?”

  “If he thought it was your face cream...”

  “Oh, Cassie. Well, I wasn’t going to use it anyway. It’s far too heavy. And I suppose you’re right about the whole batch being bad. Mr. Brentwood does mix them up all at once.”

  But now that Milly being poisoned was floating around my mind, other things started connecting. “Milly, he’s trying to poison you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  But there had been another incident, one I hadn’t associated with Aunt Lydia’s illness until now. “I think he’s tried it before.”

  “Now, Cassie, don’t be silly. Why would he try to poison me?”

  “Then how do you explain how ill you were last year?”

  “A touch of gastritis brought on by nerves, according to Dr. Connors.”

  “Milly, you’ve never had nerves in your life.”

  “Well, I suppose not, but still, poison?”

  “How do you explain it?”

  Milly shrugged. “Probably just something I ate.”

  “That no one else in the house did?”

  “Well...”

  “No one else got sick,” I pointed out. “What could you have eaten that no one else did besides the chocolates in your room?”

  “I suppose the chocolates must have gone off. They did taste a bit odd.”

  “And there was a dead mouse found near the box.” I’d been in the house when Milly had found that so I’d heard about it firsthand, along with most of the block. It had been after she’d recovered, so I hadn’t connected it to her illness either, but it had gotten her to throw out the chocolates without argument.

  “They’d put poison out for them in the kitchen. You know they don’t die as soon as they eat it. It’s usually in the walls. I was lucky it was out in the open so we could find it.”

  “You got sick after eating chocolates given to you by Mr. Farmington, which you later found a dead mouse beside, and you say he isn’t trying to poison you?”

  “But Cassie, the chocolates weren’t for me.”

  That surprised me. “What do you mean? Who were they for?”

  I fully expected her to say they were for Aunt Lydia, so it was quite a shock to hear her say, “You.”

  “Mr. Farmington gave you poisoned chocolates to give to me?” All sorts of theories went through my head, chief among them that he was trying to get Milly blamed for anything that happened to me. “Why would he want to poison me?”

  “Oh Cassie, they weren’t poisoned. He must have bought them on sale or something. He’s terribly cheap when he’s not courting Mother. They were probably old and had turned. I didn’t tell you about them because it didn’t seem to matter. You don’t like cherry cordials, so I knew you’d offer them back to me, and so there didn’t seem to be any point to going out of my way to bring them to you. You’re not upset about that, are you?”

  There were several questions running through my mind. I started with the easiest. “Did Mr. Farmington know I didn’t like them?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t say anything. And as you barely say two words to him, it would have been rude after he’d been so nice to get them for you. Maybe you should write him and tell him how sweet it was for him to send the face cream. Say you like it too or something. Then he’ll know you really don’t mind him.”

  Only I really did mind him. His constant attempts to murder members of my family did seem to preclude us having any sort of friendly relationship. If only other people would realize that was what he was doing. “I’ve already written home.”

  “Is that why you were gone so long? I did wonder. Who did you write to?”

  I didn’t want to give her the details of my letter to Mrs. Raybourn, particularly as Milly was in a mood to defend Mr. Farmington, so I changed the subject. Unfortunately, the only subject I could think of at the moment was the bird at the aviary. “I don’t think I’ll be sending anything else for a little while. It was quite a mess to get it underway.” I half-hoped that would be enough for Milly, but of course it wasn’t and she wanted to know why I’d thought it was a mess, so I told her about the crashed bird and the strange lack of message inside. It worked a little too well as a distraction. Milly stopped telling me to write to Mr. Farmington or asking if she could borrow my clothes and instead asked for every detail I could remember of the incident.

  When I’d finally finished, her reaction was not what I’d expected. “Oh Cassie, that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened since I got here!”

  As Milly had recently been arrested for murder, I didn’t share her opinion, but before I could point out that we might have had one or two more interesting events in my short time in London, she had already gone on. “I have a brilliant idea. Let’s go have a look at the place.”

  “Why? It was just a mix-up with a gear.”

  “But it would be so interesting to see who was supposed to get the package “

  “A rubber ball? How is that exciting?” I remembered what the clerks had wondered, why would someone send a ball wrapped in a bit of paper with a mechanical bird of all things? I’d rather assumed it had been a present for a child. I always liked seeing a little copper bird on the windowsill waiting for me. But then why list Apsley House as the sender’s address? Of course, said child could have a fondness for toy soldiers, and sets of Wellington battling Napoleon were particularly popular. Perhaps the ball was meant for some sort of game defeating Napoleon.

  “But it could mean anything. Maybe there’s a diamond hidden inside. Or it’s a coded message. Or there’s a kidnapping plot, and it’s some sort of proof that they have the victim.”

  That sounded remarkably like the plots of several penny dreadfuls I’d read recently. “Did you borrow any of the books I brought to read on the ship?”

  “Just the one you left on the dresser. And if we see where the bird was going, we might be able to tell what it’s about.”

  “Milly, there’s not going to be anything there. It will just be a building. We won’t be able to see who lives there or who the bird was intended for.”

  “But we could have a look at it. And I’ve been to George Street, it’s not far. And Cecil Court is nearby. You can find some bookshops. And we’ll have tea somewhere.”

  “And you’ll let me look in the bookshops?”

  “I wouldn’t have mentioned them if I wasn’t going to.”

  I sighed. Either Milly really wanted to go have a look at the address, or her definition of letting me look involved allowing me to glance in a window or two, or quite possibly both. Still, I had rather talked myself into being curious. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a walk in the neighborhood.”

  “I knew you’d agree. Let me get my hat.”

  It wasn’t a long walk to George Street at all. In fact, it was less than ten minutes before we’d found the address off Bedford Street. George Street was a perfectly normal sort of street in a nicer part of the neighborhood than Milly’s rooms. It was longer than I was expecting, with a few shops and several houses from the last century that had been converted into boarding houses and apartment buildings. It was a nice bit of a walk that I really did not want spoiled by being thrown out on some random person’s doorstep. “We’ll just have a look at the building and move on, all ri
ght?”

  “Of course,” Milly said so readily I knew there was going to be something else. “Just as soon as we see which apartment the bird was going to and see what the owner looks like.”

  “Whoever lives there is probably at work. This is the sort of neighborhood where you find clerks and shopkeepers.” I wasn’t sure that was correct, but then I knew Milly wouldn’t have any idea either, and it seemed to make sense.

  “We won’t bother them, just ask what they were expecting.”

  “I don’t think they’d know what it was. Shops don’t use birds from the aviaries to make deliveries. If they’re going to use them, they get their own.”

  “Then maybe we should go and see whoever sent it after. They would know what they sent.”

  One pointless mission a day was enough for me. “They gave a fake address.”

  “You’re sure? Just because it isn’t listed doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

  I wasn’t about to tell her it was for Apsley House as that would mean she’d want to rush across town and pound on the door until she was let in. “It was for a museum.” Best to be vague and hope she wouldn’t ask.

  “I suppose that wouldn’t help much. Even if they worked there, no one would tell us. I think that’s number 40, so we’re getting close.”

  I hadn’t expected Milly to be distracted so easily, but then we were approaching number 46, so I’d gotten lucky.

  Number 46 was that sort of building I’d been expecting; a whitewashed entryway and dark brown brick above. What I had not expected was to find a police constable standing on the front steps. “Do you ladies live here?”

  I opened my mouth to answer before Milly could say something foolish like yes, we did indeed live there, when she surprised me by being at least somewhat circumspect. “We were delivering a note.”

  At least he seemed to be believing it. “Who was it for?”

  “We just have a number on it.” Milly was better at coming up with a cover story than I’d thought, but then she was always good at covering for things she did. “Can I just slip it in the box? He’ll be furious if he hears I handed it to a policeman.”

  The constable sighed. “Let me see it.”

  That was where her plan fell apart. I could tell she didn’t have anything resembling a letter to be delivered on her. I couldn’t think of anything in my handbag that would do for a letter. The best I could have offered was to tear a piece of paper out of my notebook, but then it would have been obvious that we hadn’t been bringing it.

  Milly at least made a good show of trying. “Of course. I have it right here. Just let me get it out.” She started poking through her handbag and managed to drop half the contents on the steps. The constable gave a world-weary sigh that told me he’d stopped believing her and knelt to help her collect her things. As I watched them, I wondered if Milly had some ridiculous plan like having me run into the building while the constable was distracted by her, not that it would work as the pair of them were taking up the whole of the front steps. But I was able to look over the constable’s shoulder and see that there was a modern bell system by the door, each bell’s button labeled with the name of the apartment it rang. I knelt by the steps and pretended to help Milly pick up her spilled items until I was able to grab a stub of a pencil and some sort of candy wrapper that could be written on and scribbled down the names. At least we’d know who was in which apartment. The only question was whether the ground floor apartment was at the top of the list or the bottom.

  By the time they’d gotten Milly’s handbag sorted out, I’d made my list of names. Even Milly could tell the constable was not amused and no longer willing to help us. “Can you believe it, Cassie? All that and I forgot the note.”

  “Tragic,” I answered.

  “Isn’t it though? Now we’ll have to come back. Unless I can remember what it said...”

  The constable stopped that right off. “I’m sure by the time you find it, we’ll be done here. Why don’t you two be on your way?”

  So the crime couldn’t have been anything too serious, not if he thought they’d be gone soon. Unless they’d been there a long time already. I decided against telling Milly that.

  The constable gave a very pointed look in the direction we’d come from. “I’m sure, by the time you’ve retrieved your letter, we’ll be finished here.”

  Before Milly could try another gambit, I asked, “Could you tell me the landlady’s name?”

  The constable seemed surprised by the question, but he also seemed ready to do anything to get us out of his hair and on our way. “Mrs. O’Hara. Good afternoon.”

  So the list started at the top. The first name was O’Hara, and it stood to reason she had the ground-floor flat. “Thanks. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  I had the feeling Milly was ready to say more, so I tucked my arm through hers, getting a good grip on her forearm as I did, and started off down the street.

  “Why did you want to know the landlady’s name?” At least she waited until we were out of the constable’s hearing to ask.

  “You wanted to know who the bird was trying to go to. They said it crashed into Hopp Lane because there was a reversed dial. If we can see where it crashed, we might be able to tell which floor it was trying for on George Street.”

  “And which apartment, which you could connect to the name on the list. That’s wonderful, Cassie. I knew we’d be good at figuring this out.”

  Before she could come up with another plan like the note we weren’t delivering, I added, “And you could ask Constable Jenkins about it when you see him next.”

  “Oh, I’m not seeing him again. Did you know he was only interested in me to see if I would confess or something? He was hoping for a promotion.”

  I thought quickly before she could decide to investigate just to show him up. “Well, then we can check the newspapers in the morning and see why the police were there.” That seemed like a nice, safe way to investigate without getting tangled up with the police.

  Once we were far enough away from number 46 that we couldn’t be connected to it, I stopped at a newspaper seller, and while I bought a paper, asked where Hopp Lane was. It turned out to be two streets over, and number 23 was at the opposite end of the street from 46 George Street. I supposed that accounted for the reversed gear. When we got there, we found a building similar to number 46, but it was on a retail street, with shops on the bottom and most of the upper windows with painted signs for importers, law offices, and the like. We were able to tell at once where the bird had crashed and why it had been such a problem. The third-floor window, or second floor as it would be here, was covered with brown paper, waiting for someone to come and replace it. “Well, that seems to be it.”

  Milly stared up at the window. “I suppose it is. I wonder if we can get a look inside.” Before I could say anything, she hurried forward and tried the street door. “Locked. You don’t suppose we could get in through the shop?”

  I shook my head. “Most of these upper offices are only accessed by the street door. Stops random people from walking in. If there was an entrance inside, it would be in the back, not somewhere we could get to it.”

  “That’s disappointing. I was hoping we’d found another murder investigation. Oh well. There’s supposed to be a wonderful tea shop near here. You can buy me tea to thank me for helping you.”

  And after I’d already bought sandwiches. “I seem to remember being promised a look in a bookshop.”

  “Oh, that’s blocks away. We’ll have the tea first.”

  I sighed and tried saying, “You go on and eat. I’ll go look for the shops.”

  “Oh no, Cassie, you have to have a proper tea while you’re here. Then I’ll show you where the shop is.”

  As I’d had a proper tea almost every day I’d been in London, and Milly had been with me for several of them, although her wallet never seemed to make the meeting, that was a ridiculous excuse, and Milly knew it. But I knew she wasn’t going to stop talk
ing about it until I agreed to buy us tea, so I let her lead the way to the shop.

  We’d barely gotten ten feet when Milly said, “Oh, now that’s lucky,” and started back the way we’d just come.

  “Milly?” I turned around but I didn’t spot her at once. For a moment, I thought she had seen someone she knew, Constable Jenkins perhaps, and might be heading back to the Underground, which would have been a relief, but then I spotted her half-way down the block, helping the woman with her packages. I hurried after her, but by the time I’d made it down the block, Milly had already disappeared inside of number 23. I sighed and seriously considered going back to Nell Lane without her. The only thing that stopped me was knowing she’d find a way to get me back to number twenty-three, probably to meet the woman whose packages she’d carried, and get me to have a look at the office with the broken window. It was probably best to get it all over with at once. Then she wouldn’t be tempted to return to Hopp Lane, and I could always come back on my own and find Cecil Court and its bookshops. I tried the street door of number twenty-three again. The latch hadn’t caught, so it was now unlocked. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. A locked door would have been a good excuse not to follow Milly.

  The door opened into a small lobby area with a short hallway and a staircase leading up. Milly was nowhere to be seen. How had she managed to disappear so quickly? I looked down the hallway, but the only office seemed to be for a building manager. Besides, Milly would have wanted to see the third-floor window where the bird had struck. And the woman she was with probably had an office on one of the upper floors anyway. I started upstairs, looking down each hallway, hoping for a sign of Milly.

  The hallways seemed to have four offices each, two facing the street, two the yard behind. As I went higher, the carpets got shabbier and the paint more faded. I had the impression the building was having trouble renting out its office space. Half the doors on the second floor didn’t have names on them. All the doors were closed as I passed, and there was no sign of Milly.