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

sight. She felt her stomach turn in knots. It wasn’t fair. For either of them.

Mira painted over her sketch of an airship with a wash of blue watercolors. She finished the sketch in the morning before she went to St. Paul’s for the midday service. It had been impossible to concentrate. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the previous days with Byron. How exciting they all had been! The exhilaration from the airship flight was exactly as she dreamed. And she met a family friend and found out more about her parents’ deaths. She frowned as her sketch smudged under the wash. Why were her parents there? If it was murder… She set her sketchbook to the side with a huff. It wasn’t a question of “if” in her mind. Her parents were murdered. Why did that give her so much peace? She stood with a huff. Why was she hoping for that? That wasn’t right. But, then again, if it was the truth, it needed to be made clear. Hopefully the professor would have some answers.

She looked at the clock. Nearly time to go to her uncle’s for dinner. Oh, how she wished she was going to Byron’s. But he needed some time and so did she. The day before was a confusing mess. She felt butterflies in her stomach just thinking about it. No. Not butterflies. Byron was her friend; she was his secretary. She couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. Could she? She stood and moved over to the window. Even if she did, they would have to wait. Not only was it foolish to think he could ever fall for her with his memory problem, but they had mysteries to solve. Was it even possible to fall in love in such a short time? Well, it was possible. But that kind of love rarely lasted. Her parents had courted over several years after their initial acquaintance.

Was that what these feelings were? Her trying to fill the gap her parents left? The one her uncle and brother and Landon couldn’t even fill? If she did like Byron, was it for him or for the idea of him? She shook her head. She shouldn’t even entertain those thoughts. She didn’t have feelings for Byron, and that was that. She had no reason to worry. Of course, she had to keep repeating that to herself as she walked to her uncle’s house.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Landon opened the door before she knocked once again.

“How on earth do you always know when I’m here?” She walked past him and took off her coat.

“I suppose it just comes with being a butler.” He had a twinkle in his eye. She laughed.

“Is the professor coming again today?”

“He is already in the front room.” He took her coat and hung it on the hook.

“Fantastic.”

The professor sat in an armchair reading a book when she entered. It hadn’t been her plan to discuss what happened in the previous week with anyone other than Byron, but she needed to talk to someone.

“Hello, Professor!” She sat in an armchair opposite from his. He looked up and smiled.

“Why, hello Mira!” He closed the book.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your reading, but I’d like to talk to you.” She glanced at the door. “If possible, without my uncle hearing?”

“What is it?” His tone turned serious.

“About what we spoke about last week—”

“What about it?”

“It seems I’ve found a lead or two.”

“You have?” He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“With help, of course. You remember the man from the cafe, the one I sketched? He’s a private detective.”

“Please tell me you haven’t asked him to help you.”

“You don’t want me to lie, do you?” Her eyes lit up. He set the book aside.

“What have you found?” He rubbed his temples.

She bit her lip. “The police report mentioned that you identified the bodies.”

The professor paled.

“Is that true?”

“Yes. It is.” He looked down.

“What happened?”

“Do you really want me to describe it to you?” He looked up at her with wet eyes.

She glanced away. “I suppose not.”

“I assure you; it was them.”

A heavy silence fell over the two of them. The professor stood and moved to the window.

“I’m sorry if I was your only lead. But that’s all I know.”

“No need to apologize. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Mira’s voice cracked.

“So, I was your last lead?” He turned back towards her, a mixture of emotions flooding his expression.

“Well, we did find an inconsistency between the police report and an eyewitness.”

“You’ve located an eyewitness? After eighteen years?”

“Yes. Mr. David Graham. He worked with my father. He said my father was running late that day, and my mother shouldn’t have even been there.”

The professor paced across the room. “How does that prove that it wasn’t an accident? People are in the wrong places at the wrong time quite often. And why didn’t the police find anything?”

“There was a court case in 1877 that cleared out the corruption in Scotland Yard. Before then it was entirely possible for policemen to be bribed.”

“Your detective told you that?”

“Indeed, he did.”

“Mira, what if he’s just giving you false hope?” he said, exasperated.

“The evidence is there. Any hope comes from that, not him.”

“Where is the motive? Why on earth would anyone want your parents to be dead?” he shouted before sagging back into his armchair.

She went quiet. She hadn’t thought about that. She went over situation after situation trying to find a reason. She took a breath.

“Well you knew my parents. Did they have any enemies?”

“No, they didn’t. Your father was almost a celebrity. Everyone loved them.”

“But those who run in higher circles always have enemies.”

“Mira, you just have to accept that it was an accident. What happened, happened. There doesn’t have to be an ulterior motive for it.”

“But, Professor, we found—”

“What is the name of this private detective of yours?”

“Byron Constantine. And he’s brilliant.”

“Is he the one without a memory? Mira, how can you expect him to help with this?”

“He’s solved forty-one cases before now without a problem.”

“But