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

“But I didn’t!”

“Here’s the scenario. You climb up the building, slip in through the open window. Move into the bedroom to look for jewels or pocket watches, or anything you can sell. You hear the door open and freeze in place. You pick up the nearest object and hide behind the door. You only mean to knock him out, but you hit a little too hard. He spins as he falls, falling onto his back. You run before he can see your face.” Byron glanced at Mira, and she smiled, realizing he used her version of the story. Her attention was brought back to Selene when the cat growled in frustration.

“Except that didn’t happen!”

“What did then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Very well Mssr. Detective. I was there that night. I broke into the apartment on Vincent Street.”

“When you entered, how did you go about it?” Byron jotted down a few notes. A glint flickered into the cat’s eye, and she smiled.

“It was simple. The latch on the window was undone, and it was easy enough to scale the alley wall. I didn’t even need my tools.”

“And did you find anything there?”

“No. He had nothing. I checked drawers, under mattresses. Everywhere. No jewels. No cash. There was nothing.”

“You didn’t see anything unusual? A body perhaps?”

“A body? Of course not! If I had seen a body I never would have entered.”

“Around what time was this?”

“I believe it was ten o’clock. I knew the place would be empty then.”

“And how did you know that?”

She went silent for a moment, a flicker of fear in her eyes before she composed herself into a feline state once again. “Trade secret.”

Byron raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been forthright up to now.”

“Ah, but that is because everything I have told you will not harm me more.”

“Then this involves someone else?”

She looked away in silence.

“It does. Well that is good to know.” Byron scribbled something else down, his pencil scratches punctuating the silence.

“I see. Well thank you for your time and cooperation.” Byron stood and left the room as Mira packed up her things in a haphazard fashion and followed.

“There’s someone else involved here. Someone told her when it would be empty,” he said.

“Could it be the landlord, Doyle?” she offered.

“If it were Doyle, she would have told us. No. It’s someone else. Someone more dangerous.”

They walked out of Scotland Yard and hailed a hansom cab.

“Tomorrow, we’ll check the bank. If we can determine when Clement had his influx of money, perhaps we’ll be able to pin down more of what occurred that night. Obviously, someone is lying.”

“Well if everyone was telling the truth we wouldn’t have a mystery to solve, would we?” she teased.

“My thoughts exactly. Once we figure things out at the bank, it would probably be in our best interest to map out a timeline and then we can worry ourselves about finding out who tipped off our friend Selene Vermielle.”

They reached the cafe, and the carriage stopped. Mira began climbing out, but Byron placed a hand on her arm to stop her. She looked back at him.

“May I walk you home?”

“Yes, you may.” She smiled. He stepped out of the carriage and then helped her down. The lamps flickered on above them. He offered her his arm as they strolled leisurely back to her lodgings.

“Is this so you can know where I live for future reference? Or are you simply being a gentleman?”

“You may think what you like about my intentions.” He smirked at her. She started laughing and his laugher soon followed hers. His eyes sparkled with mirth, and she felt a heat creeping onto her features.

“Well then Mr. Constantine, I believe that you are doing both.”

“You caught me.” He grinned. They reached the steps that led up to her place and she stopped.

“Is this where you live?” Byron glanced between the building and her.

“I could be lying to you.”

“I like to think I can detect lies more easily than most.”

“And?”

“You aren’t.” He smiled.

“Well, I suppose this is where we say goodbye.” The white building loomed above her, and she bit her lip. The morning doubts crept back into her mind. She brought her gaze up to Byron again, attempting to steel her spirits before entering her abode.

“Is something wrong, Mira?” He cocked his head, the twinkle in his eye replaced with worry.

“I’ve been thinking about our second case.”

“Your case you mean?”

“Yes.” She looked down.

“What’s the matter?”

“I suppose I’ve been getting discouraged. After all, what kind of clues could we possibly find for a crime that happened eighteen years ago?”

“You’d be surprised. I once solved a case that was over thirty-five years old.”

“How?”

“Patience. Since it happened so long ago, it is highly unlikely that being patient will result in additional deaths. We’ll keep working at it until we find the evidence we need.”

“Patience.” She wrung her gloves together. “I’ve waited practically my entire life to find out what happened.”

“In which case you can certainly wait a few more weeks or months for a solution.”

“I shall work on my patience then.”

“Until tomorrow then?”

“Until tomorrow.”

Byron hesitated for a moment, looking her over. A strange expression came over his face as he looked at her. He stepped forward and grasped her hand, kissing it. She felt her discouragement melt away as her cheeks fully heated. She glanced around the street, hoping no one was watching.

“Goodnight, Mira.” With reluctance, he let her hand drop.

“Goodnight, Byron.”

He tipped his hat and turned to walk up the street. She stayed on the steps, watching him walk away. His shoulders sagged, the farther away he moved. He stopped at a corner and looked back at her before disappearing into the night. She mulled over how he acted at the end of each day. Every time he said goodbye to her it was for the last time. He knew that he would meet her again, but the part of him that had met her today would be gone forever. She took out her key. What would it be like to meet