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

his temples for a moment. Mira could tell he was annoyed again. She suppressed a smile.

“No. It hasn’t. It’s due to come tomorrow. What do you need with it?”

“We’re just looking for something. But while we are here…we were wondering if you could tell us some information.” His tone became exasperated.

“Well, I don’t know anything. And you don’t work for the police so there is no reason for me to talk to you.”

Mira took the helm of the conversation. “Ah, we don’t work for them, but we do work with them. If you answer our questions now, it is more likely you won’t have to answer any more questions later.”

Mr. Morrison considered the statement, then nodded. “Alright. Ask away,”

Byron looked at Mira gratefully then took the helm back.

“Three days ago, did you see anyone come to Mr. Graham’s abode?”

“No.”

“Did he mention anything about a visitor coming?”

“No.”

“Did you notice anything at all three days ago?”

“If I did, I’ve forgotten. I have a great deal to look after and no time to pay attention to this and that. I only bother my tenants when the rent is due. I allow them their privacy.”

Byron took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Mr. Morrison. Now, where might your rubbish pile be?”

Mr. Morrison led them to a back alley where the rubbish was kept for the dust cart.

“Don’t know what your obsession is with it but go ahead and help yourself.”

He left the alley and headed back into the building. Byron took some gloves out of his pocket and offered them to Mira. She shook her head and pulled out her own gloves. They started by moving the larger pieces out of their way, then sifted through the smaller bits of waste. After a bit of digging, they found one of the teacups. The handle had broken off, but it was certainly one of Mr. Graham’s. It had a chip in the same place as the one Mira had used the week previous. They set it to the side and continued to look for the remaining teacup. It wasn’t long before they found it and reunited the pair.

“Seems as if we’ve found what we came for.” Byron brushed his hands off.

“So, it definitely was murder?”

“Definitely. We just need to get these to Scotland Yard, and hopefully we’ll get some answers.” She nodded. He frowned and picked up one of the teacups, holding it up by the handle. He inspected a spot around the rim. A red one. It looked like some sort of red paste.

“This looks promising. What do you make of that color Mira?”

“It looks a bit like lip rouge.”

“Currently unfashionable, dictated as impolite by the queen, and yet we find it on this teacup. Now, who do we know that uses lip rouge?”

Mira paused and thought about each woman she’d met while on the case. Juliet certainly wasn’t a suspect, but even if she was, she didn’t use lip rouge. She used the more acceptable tissue paper method. Selene Vermielle didn’t seem to wear makeup at all, and besides, she was locked up. She couldn’t recall if the smuggler woman wore makeup or not. Only one remained. “Molly Bridges.”

“Precisely.”

They took a carriage back to her uncle’s together. Byron planned on going to Scotland Yard on his way home.

“We’ll still need conclusive evidence that it was poisoning. Hopefully there are some traces on the teacup. And I’ll make certain they get you someone to watch the house as well.”

“I would certainly appreciate that.”

“My pleasure. Now, for tomorrow I’ll come pick you up from Swan Walk around noon. Hopefully that will stop anyone from knowing you are still working with me and then we can check for the analysis of the cup, as well as go and visit Miss Bridges.”

“Byron, what if you don’t come?”

“Well, I’ll write it down and if I’m not there by noon, then come to Palace Court and find me.”

“And if you aren’t there?”

“I’ll be sure to make a note of it. Trust me.”

The carriage stopped in front of her uncle’s house and Byron helped her out. He kissed her hand gently.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mira watched him drive out of sight before going inside. Dinner was waiting, and idle conversation with her uncle, but she couldn’t stop thinking about poor Mr. Graham. Killed just because he might have known something. She thought of the Whitechapel murders. The photographs she had seen on Inspector Thatcher’s desk. She excused herself early from the table. She went up to her room to find Nero waiting for her. She sat at her desk and pulled out a fresh piece of paper. The events of the day replayed in her head over and over, stopping on the murders and the death threats. She thought about Molly Bridges crying and couldn’t possibly imagine her killing her significant other. Then, her thoughts turned to Byron.

The way Byron had acted that morning. His easy trust. He was so serious about everything. It made her hope for a moment that perhaps, just perhaps, he was remembering something. Remembering her.

A knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts. “Come in.”

Landon peeked his head around the door. “Miss Mira?”

“Oh. It’s only you.” She looked back at the drawing she had been working on. Landon placed a tray with tea and biscuits in front of her.

“Do you want to talk?” He pulled up a chair. She sat up, giving him her full attention. He only breached his butler protocol when he was feeling especially fatherly towards her.

“What about?” She picked up a biscuit and nibbled at it.

“Well perhaps we can start with why you’ve been acting so strange these last few weeks. I’d like to believe it was simply your employment, but I’m not certain.”

“I’ve been acting strange?”

“Leaving without saying goodbye, being more reserved, not showing interest in your favorite foods. What’s going on?”

She paused for a moment thinking over it all. “In all honesty I’m not certain. There are so many things in my head now.”

“Would it help to talk them out?”

“Perhaps.”

“Where