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

“Samira Blayse. You gave me a key. Have you read your journal this morning?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

“Journal…journal…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Your journal. The one you read every day to help remember what has happened before?” She tried to keep her voice level. He didn’t lower the pistol, but he took his finger off the trigger. He looked entirely confused, and the anger seemed to be dissipating. She took a chance.

“Maybe if we found it…it would help.” She slipped past him and into the sitting room to look for it. He didn’t try to stop her, but he kept his gun trained on her.

The journal sat on his armchair, closed with a fountain pen on top. She picked it up and returned to the entry hall, holding it out to him.

“Read this. It might make more sense.”

He looked at her, narrowing his eyes for a second. Then he lowered the pistol. “I’m trusting you.” He took the journal, opened it and moved into the sitting room to read. She stood frozen for a moment then took a deep breath and followed him. After taking her usual place on the couch, she began to add shading to Doyle. After another fifteen or so minutes he closed his journal and looked up at her.

“Oh…I’m sorry, Mira.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” she said straightening, “as long as you remember now. You do remember now, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” He disarmed the gun and placed it back in its case on the side table.

“You didn’t remember me, and I just randomly came into your house. It makes sense, in a way.”

“I suppose.” He watched her for a moment before shaking his head. “Now that that is taken care of, can you remind me of what happened with the landlord?”

She nodded and handed her drawing to him.

“This is Doyle Morrison. He found the body at eleven o’clock, you determined that he wasn’t useful for further questioning as he seemed more interested in money than in people, and we were going to investigate the scene of the crime today.” She finished, and he handed the drawing back to her.

“Is that good enough?” she asked.

“That’s more than good enough. I’ve never had visuals to remind me before. At least I think I haven’t.” He grinned at her.

“Oh! I also brought the police report back. The one for my parents’ case.”

“Ah yes. I read about that. What did you gain from it?”

“The same story again.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Other than I thought it was odd that my parents’ bodies weren’t found until after the constable returned.” She passed the folder of documents over to him.

“Hmm…that could be a clue, or just how it happened. How were they identified?”

“By their clothing. The explosion had, well, made them unrecognizable.” She swallowed and fidgeted with her hands. “And I know the individual who identified them. He’s a family friend. I plan on asking him about it the next time I see him.”

“I see.” Byron scanned over the first page of the report. “I’ll give it a read through. Maybe I’ll find something else of use. And I’d like to know what you find out from your friend.”

He paused a moment more before setting the folder on his side table and standing.

“Let’s go.” He retrieved his satchel and placed his journal into it. He strode towards the door and she followed him out onto the street. He hailed a cab as she locked the door.

“Scotland Yard, if you would.” He told the cabbie as he helped Mira into the carriage.

“Aren’t we going to the victim’s lodgings?”

“One needs an address to do that, Mira, and I believe I forgot to get that from the Inspector yesterday.”

The carriage bumped and bustled over the cobblestones and they swayed with the chassis. They rode in silence for a while until it occurred to Mira that it was rather odd that Byron had relied on her instead of his journal with facts for the case.

“Byron, isn’t it risky not to write down certain facts in your journal?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. I suppose it is.”

“Then why did you ask me to remember what Mr. Morrison had said? I know we didn’t find out much, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important.”

“It was a sort of test. Just to see if you truly were up for the job.”

“And what if I wasn’t?”

“I wrote up my own version and put it in one of my drawers. I made a note in my journal that I was relying on you this time, and if your account wasn’t satisfactory that there was another one.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. You passed.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and, she smiled back. The carriage reached Scotland Yard, and he helped her out. They entered and went up to Thatcher’s office.

“Good morning, Byron! How are you doing today?” Juliet chittered.

“Good morning. I’m doing well. Thatcher in?”

Juliet nodded. “Go on in.”

Mira thought she saw a wink from Juliet as she gestured them into the office. Thatcher looked up from his desk as they came in.

“Constantine! Just the person I wanted to see! Take a seat. We’ve nearly solved the case.”

“You have?” Byron took a seat with a questioning glance towards Mira. She took a seat next to him.

“Definitely. The medical report has come in. The head injury was not the cause of death. There were drugs in his system. He must have administered the drug, it took effect, he fell backwards into the table, causing the head injury.”

“And the fact that the place looked ransacked?”

“There is still the possibility of burglary. We’re still trying to track down the burglar to see if we can’t get any other evidence. However, the landlord did tell us that Pennington’s rooms were hardly ever clean. It is a clear case of suicide. Or death by misadventure at any rate. And it’s a good thing, too. I’ve got several other