Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity Natalie Brianne (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

that is very unfortunate Mr. Morrison. However, currently, I am more interested in the facts.”

“The facts? What facts? I come home from the pub after having a late breakfast. It was rent day, it was, so I set down me things in me place and I went up the stairs. I knocked, and the door crept open just a crack, and so I says, ‘Mr. Pennington,’ and I knock again. When I peeks me head ‘round the door I see him lying there. Right awful business.”

“Do you know what time it was when you came to get the rent?”

“It was in the mornin’ I think. Somewhere ‘round eleven o’clock, it was. Must have gotten himself killed the night before.”

“And then you contacted the police?”

“Right away, sir. Didn’t touch a thing.”

“How often did Mr. Pennington come late on his rent?”

“This was the first time I can remember. I thought it funny that he hadn’t come. Normally he delivers it the day before. That’s why I went to ask him about it.”

“You were worried then?”

“That’s right. I was worried.” Doyle attempted to shift to a more comfortable position.

“You don’t happen to know of any frequent visitors to his apartment, would you?”

“No, I stay pretty much out of my tenants’ business.”

“Except when it comes to the rent?”

“Well we have an agreement, don’t we? If I get the rent, I don’t worry about any other goings on in my establishment. My tenants have the right to privacy, and so do I.”

“And you didn’t hear anything coming from Pennington’s apartment the night before?”

“Not a thing.”

“Hmm…good day, Mr. Morrison. Thank you for your help.” Byron stood, chair legs scraping against the floor, and left. Mira followed close behind.

“Of course, sir! Pleasure to help,” Doyle called after them.

Mira closed the door behind her and ran to catch up with Byron.

“You don’t have any other questions for him?”

“Not currently. He’s told me all the information that could possibly be useful to me.”

“But didn’t we already know when Pennington was found and how?”

“Yes, we did. But now we know that the landlord doesn’t care about anything but the money. That means that he won’t have been paying attention to anything else. Hundreds of people could have been in Pennington’s apartment that night and Morrison wouldn’t have noticed. Why continue to question an unobservant witness?”

“Is he a suspect now?”

“He always was.” He glanced at her before continuing. “But I’d say he doesn’t exactly have a motive. He said himself that a death in the building was bad for business.”

He continued to lead her through Scotland Yard until they reached the front desk. Officer Wensley manned it again.

“Byron! What brings you to the desk of knowledge?”

“Do I need a reason to stop by and say hello?” Byron smiled.

Mira looked at Byron with surprise. Why would he remember Wensley? She looked back at Officer Wensley as he laughed. “No, but you usually only come when you need something from me.”

“Very observant of you Fred. Firstly, I want to introduce you to my secretary, Miss Samira Blayse.” He stepped aside, and Mira stepped up to the desk.

“I believe we’ve met before,” she said.

“Ah yes. You were here the other day asking about a case file. I’m sorry we couldn’t accommodate you.”

“That’s my other reason for coming. Could you possibly retrieve a case file for me?” Byron said.

“Why of course my good man! It wouldn’t happen to be the file for the airship accident of 1870, would it?”

“Once again you’ve read my mind, old chum.”

“Let me get that for you. Won’t be a minute.”

Officer Wensley left the desk and went directly into a records room. Byron leaned against the desk with a smile.

“It really was that easy?” She blinked at him.

“I’m a detective. I work with the Yard. Why shouldn’t I have access?”

“I suppose you would. I just didn’t expect it to be that simple.”

“To be completely honest, sometimes old Fred there bends the rules for me. We’ve known each other since we were young.”

“You grew up together?”

“You could say that. I like to think I’m the one who got him interested in becoming a policeman.”

“Always with the ego, Constantine,” Fred said.

Mira jumped slightly and turned back towards Officer Wensley who had returned from the records room. Byron chuckled.

“You know I’m kidding.”

“I know. Here’s the report you wanted. Let me know if I can do anything else for you.”

“I always do.” Byron reached for the report.

“It was nice to officially meet you, Miss Blayse.” Officer Wensley gave a slight bow.

“You as well.”

Byron bounded down the steps as they left Scotland Yard. He handed the report to her. She furrowed her brow.

“You’re giving it to me?”

“Of course. It is your parents’ case file after all.”

“You aren’t going to look at it?”

“I’m sure I shall eventually, but for now I think you deserve to have the first look.” His voice softened. “You’ve waited long enough. Just bring it with you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “You think you can remember what we learned from Mr. Morrison?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I don’t feel like writing it all down. You can go home, Mira. Look over that report. I need to do some grocery shopping and think about all of this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Tomorrow we’ll check out his lodgings. See if we can’t find anything. I expect you to come earlier tomorrow, and don’t worry about knocking. You have a key, and you are welcome to use it.”

She nodded as he ordered a cab. They rode in silence back to the cafe. There, he paid the driver before parting from her.

“Good day, Mira.” He smiled.

“Good day, Byron.” She followed him with her eyes until he turned the corner out of sight. Clutching the report tight to her chest, she hurried home. She arrived just as the postman delivered the afternoon post.

“Good evening, miss. I’ve got another one of those letters from France for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve received quite a few from there. At least two a week.”

“My brother is a voracious writer, and I try to keep up with him. Thank