Snifter of Death Page 7

  She put her forefingers to her temples. “Read it in the leaves of my afternoon tea.”

  She’d said it with a straight face. Ruddy’s heart sank. The woman was mad as Mr. Carroll’s hatter. Or worse, she was part gypsy. He hated dealing with gypsies and their alleged metaphysical abilities. Whether it was reading tea leaves, or the Tarot, or crystal balls, they were all nothing but tricks to part a hard working person from their money.

  Flowers burst into a laugh and then said with a tiny push to his chest, “You should see your face. You believed every word.” She turned to Will. “You did too, didn’t you?”

  “In our defense you said it with such a serious face,” Will said, sounding haughtier than their upbringing justified.

  “I am an actress.” She turned back to Ruddy. “I saw you and another gentleman this afternoon looking at the theatre posters. You pointed to something and your jacket moved and exposed your shield. I’m not one to delve into fortune telling of any kind.”

  “That’s a relief,” Ruddy said and meant it.

  “Are you with the City or London Metropolitan?”

  “London Metro.”

  “My uncle is a constable in Norfolk.”

  Another pleasant surprise. His profession caused the demise of his relationship with Allegra the year before. “Oh. Norfolk’s a lovely area to work.”

  “There’s the emcee. I’m next,” Honeysuckle said. “I’ve another show in an hour and then I’ll be free to join you gentlemen. I sing new tunes but some old favorites as well. You must sing along with the favorites. I’ll be watching from the stage.” She raised her skirt high enough to scandalously show a shapely ankle and bit of leg as she climbed the stage stairs.

  On stage the curtains parted to show a backdrop that was painted to look like a city park with a promenade. Honeysuckle opened with the popular melody, When I Take My Morning Promenade. Members of the chorus joined her on stage, the ladies carried ruffled parasols that they twirled and danced around. The men dressed in morning coats and high hats served mainly as dancing props for the women.

  To Ruddy’s delight, twice while she danced she came over with a flounce that flashed those lovely ankles again.

  Chapter Ten

  “What are you doing down here?”

  Graciela nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the cook’s voice. She thought she’d be able to get in and out of the kitchen before the cook was done outside in the ice house.

  “I wondered if we had any rat poison. I thought I saw a mouse,” she lied to the cook.

  “Yes, I keep a box on hand.” She laid a ham leg she brought from the ice house on her work table. “Where did you spot the vermin?”

  “Maybe it was a mouse I saw. I’m not sure. It happened so fast. It was more a brown flash of something outside the front door.”

  “You go on. I’ll take care of putting out any poison. We use strychnine and if milady’s beloved Shadow accidentally gets into it and dies, it will be the death of my job as well.”

  Graciela expected Zachary’s staff kept strychnine on the premises, most homes in the city did. It was a common form of pest control. She originally planned to steal some but changed her mind. Rethinking her plan, she figured she ought to research the effects of different poisons, see how long it took for them to work, how much did she need to use, and what condition was the victim in while on the brink of death? She was about to do that when the cook caught her.

  Graciela pinned her hat on, kissed a curled up Me-too on the head and left for the British Museum’s library.

  After three tram rides, she had an aggravating, bordering-on-unpleasant exchange with the Chief Librarian over whether she, a woman, should be granted an entrance ticket to the domed Reading Room.

  “This is a place of serious study,” he said. “There’s nothing of womanly interest here.”

  After lying and telling him she was doing research for her fiancé, Graciela was finally admitted. She wouldn’t have been half as irritated if he hadn’t been right. If she wasn’t in need of information on poison, she’d never set foot in the place. She couldn’t imagine anything of interest to her there.

  Most of the men were too engrossed in the material before them to notice her but several she passed by raised their heads to eyeball the female invader. She quickly found the book she needed and sat at a table in the back as far out of sight as possible.

  The four easiest poisons for her to acquire were: cyanide, strychnine, belladonna, and arsenic. She eliminated cyanide straight away. Although it was used in a number of ordinary everyday things like paints and wallpaper, she wasn’t certain how to administer it. She needed a system that would fool Cross.

  She’d never personally killed any pest with strychnine and hadn’t seen the effects. According to the book, the victim died from asphyxiation. First they frothed at the mouth and had muscle spasms, which grew in intensity until the neural pathways, whatever they were became paralyzed.

  “I don’t know about that,” she whispered, thinking aloud. “Sounds dodgy, how long do they flop around?”

  She moved onto belladonna. Also known as deadly nightshade, the poison came in berry form, which would be impossible for her to administer. Reading on, there was a case where a spy put it in a drink that retained the sweet taste of a fermented beverage. Cross was drinking cognac the night she saw him. Would he drink a sweet drink? She shook her head. Too risky.

  Finally, she settled on the King of Poisons, arsenic. “Perfect. Odorless, colorless, tasteless, and only a few grains needed to kill a man.” She looked around to make sure no one might have heard the last.

  She returned the book and waited until the Chief Librarian was busy before she left. He had a box on his desk for visitors to drop their passes into when they exited. She kept hers in case she wanted to return. If she did, she’d wait until he was out of sight and use today’s pass to gain entry.

  On the way home, she stopped at the no name pub and left a message with the bartender for Addy. She was ready to have him show her how to pick a lock. She also stopped at a chemist on Oxford Street to buy a bottle of arsenic. The chemist on Oxford wouldn’t know her like the one in Belgrave Square. Not that the authorities would ever track the poison back to her if they even discovered Cross was poisoned, but why take any unnecessary chances?

  ****

  “Here? We’re going to work out in the open where everyone can see us?” an appalled Graciela asked. Addy had brought out a table from the pub with a standard black metal door lock on it. In front of him were a couple of simple looking tools along with a tankard of beer.

  “Yes. No one will bother us. You should know by now the pub’s patrons have no interest in what anyone else is getting up to. We’ll start whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’d like to get a Pimm’s Cup first.”

  Addy kicked the empty chair her way. “Sit. You can have a drink when we’re done. This won’t take long to learn or it shouldn’t if you have your wits about you, which is why I say no drinks for you.”

  “Fine.” Graciela sat.

  Addy put the lock between them and turned it so the locking mechanism showed instead of the knob and keyhole. “This uses a lever lock system. It’s a simple system to defeat, for which I am grateful,” he added with a smile. He picked up a small, multi-use knife the kind Graciela had seen carpenters and other tradesmen carry. “Insert the knife here and push.” He inserted it into a hole in the back plate. “If you listen close, you can hear the spring clip release. Once it releases you’ll have access to the bolt you need to move out of your way.” Addy then used what she’d call a tiny pry bar. “With the bolt moved, use this to feel for the groove in the mechanism that secures the lock. Give it a push and you’re done.”

  “How can I find a little groove I can’t see?” For a man like Addy who’d done this sort of thing for years, picking the lock was something he could do blindfolded. Graciela’s plan hinged on her sneaking into Cross’s home. After Addy’s demons
tration, she saw slim hope of achieving that.

  “You can’t miss the groove. It’s a deep notch. I see worry written across your brow. You’ll master it in no time. Go ahead. You try now.”

  She’d been at it for what felt like forever. She’d succeeded in opening the lock several times over but Addy kept making her do it again and again. “Can I have that Pimm’s now? I’ve done this a thousand times,” Graciela asked.

  Addy pulled out a gold pocket watch with someone else’s initials on it. Graciela wondered who the original owner was.

  “Ten minutes to the hour. Keep practicing for another ten minutes and then you can quit. You’ve done quite well. I told you that you’d master it.”

  “I have. Why must I keep it up for another try?”

  He shrugged. “Then don’t. Doesn’t matter to me. I’m not the one who’ll go to prison if you’re caught.”

  “Do be quiet.” She picked up the utility knife and worked the spring lock one last time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Archie waved the desk sergeant over as Mrs. Holbrook walked into the lobby. “My Meg’s here.”

  Archie hurried to meet his wife and help her with the bulky tapestry bag she carried from her.

  “Please have one of the constables walk our latest victim home and have someone find Constables Young and Flanders. Tell them to report to the bureau,” Ruddy told the sergeant Archie waved over.

  “I’ll send someone straight away. If you’ll follow me,” the sergeant instructed the victim, “we’ll have you escorted home shortly.”

  “I take it the dresses are finished?” Ruddy asked Margaret Holbrook.

  “I’ll put them in the interview room and get Jameson,” Archie said and headed that way.

  Mrs. Holbrook nodded, then giggled and sheepishly admitted, “I’m anxious to see them on the fellows and not just to check the fit. Is that awful of me?”

  “We’re all keen to see them all done up. You’re not alone in your awfulness,” Ruddy said. “I’ll get you a cup of tea while we wait.”

  Jameson and Archie came from his office. Jameson carried a sack in his hand. “Mrs. Holbrook, you look lovely.” He pulled two hats from the bag. “I managed to lay my hands on two bonnets with wide brims. Should cover their faces well enough to fool our thief into coming close.”

  Ruddy returned with the tea. “Did you want one, Superintendent?”

  “I’m pouring one for myself, I’ll get you one too, sir,” Archie said, joining them again.

  Jameson looked at the latest drawing of the stocking thief and asked Ruddy, “The woman here earlier, that’s number three for the thief. Where did he grab this last one?”

  “Great Ormond Street again,” Ruddy said, putting the final touches on this drawing. “This victim noticed the thief was missing all but the front six of his bottom teeth.

  Ruddy put his art materials away. “At first I thought we might concentrate both teams in the Ormond Street vicinity since he’s struck there twice now but that may be a tactical mistake.”

  Brows high, Archie handed a cup of tea to Jameson and asked, “What? Why is that a mistake?”

  “My thought exactly. I was going to make the same suggestion. We should concentrate our teams around Great Ormond,” Jameson said.

  “The second crime occurred on Guilford Place. I have a feeling the suspect may go back there next, if there is a next time.”

  Ruddy got up and removed the district map from the wall and laid it out on his desk. “If he doesn’t return to Ormond or Guildford, I believe he’ll hit along here.” He marked out a rectangle-shaped area that incorporated the two crime scenes and expanded to include the immediate vicinity. “I have a feeling he’s working this corridor and not likely to venture too far out. It explains why other Metro districts or the City haven’t had similiars.”

  “You think he’s comfortable in this area and that’s why he’ll stay in it?” Jameson asked.

  “I do.”

  “If he’s comfortable, I’d say it’s because he works somewhere nearby. From the description of him, I can’t see him having the money to live in the area,” Archie said.

  The constables working as the decoys arrived along with four men acting as their support teams.

  “Everyone to the interview room,” Jameson ordered. “Except you, Mrs. Holbrook. If you’d please wait here while the constables change out of uniform and into their...” he glanced at the glum-faced Young and Flanders, the undercover constables and back to Margaret Holbrook. “Their costumes. I’ll call you when we’re ready to have you come in for any final touches.”

  “Certainly.”

  The undercover group, Ruddy, Archie, and Jameson all relocated to the interview room. The support teams made no effort to maintain any proper decorum, crumbling into laughter as soon as Young and Flanders had the dresses on and all but buttoned. Ruddy didn’t dare look at Archie or Jameson or the three of them would fall out too.

  Ruddy buttoned Young and Archie buttoned Flanders while Jameson called Margaret Holbrook into the room. “Can you breathe?” Ruddy asked Young. “This is awfully tight across your ribcage.”

  Young nodded. “I can breathe but just. If I have to defend myself, I’m afraid the dress will rip to shreds though.”

  Small-boned and thin, Flanders dress fit much better.

  “Oh good, you put the right dress on the right man. I meant to tell you who I intended each dress for,” Margaret said.

  She ran her hand down the back of the bodice on the dress Flanders wore and then down the long sleeves, checking the fit. “With your ginger hair and light eyes, I knew cornflower blue would be perfect for your coloring,” she said, tying the bow at the waist.

  She went to Young and repeated the same action, sucking in air when she saw how tight the bodice was. “Sorry Constable, I must’ve been off a bit in my measuring. Do you want me to take it home and make some alterations?” she asked, turning to Jameson.

  “Young said he can breathe but doesn’t have a lot of freedom of movement,” he explained and then asked Young and Flanders, “Can you both flex your arms? You need to be able to defend yourselves even if it means tearing the gown.”

  Both constables flexed fine. “Don’t bother altering the dress, Mrs. Holbrook. I’d rather the men get out into the area of the crimes and start patrolling. You just might lose a dress but let’s hope you don’t.”

  “I understand. Well gentlemen, I’m going. I’ve gardening to do. No need to walk me out, Archibald. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Jameson, Ruddy, Archie and the undercover group gathered around the district map still laid out on Ruddy’s desk. Ruddy told them his theory of the thief working a specific corridor. The two groups split coverage of the corridor and left for their assigned areas.

  “Better go see Marsden,” Jameson told Ruddy and Archie.

  Both groaned in unison. “Must we?” Archie asked.

  “I told you after three victims we’d get the press involved. We need to warn the ladies in the area. Don’t forget to take a drawing with you for their front page.” Jameson pointed at Ruddy but said to Archie, “Don’t let him antagonize Marsden.”

  Ruddy took umbrage to the comment considering any prior quarrels between him and Marsden were instigated by Marsden.

  “No worries, Superintendent,” Ruddy assured him.

  “Good. I’m off to lunch. Come to my office later and let me know how it went.”

  After Jameson left a sneaky smile crossed Archie’s face. He had a devilish glint in his eye and his focus was on Ruddy. People talk about intuition. Some folks have it stronger than others. Ruddy had good intuition, especially when it came to police work, like his feeling about their stocking thief. He also had a weird feeling about that smile and glint.

  “I have an idea. You’re going to hate it. But hear me out,” Archie warned.

  “Does this idea have anything to do with me?”

  “Yes.”

  Ruddy stood and put his jacket o
n. “If you know ahead of time I’m going to hate it, then whatever it is, I’m not going to want to do it. I don’t have to hear you out.”

  “But you do. It’s brilliant and as much as you might hate it, you’ll see the craftiness behind my plan.”

  “Fine. What’s your idea?”

  “Marsden.”

  Ruddy had no clue what he was talking about other than they were supposed to be en route to tell him about the thief. He shook his head baffled.

  “Get Marsden to act as mole in the athletic club. He can spy on Napier and report back.”

  “You’ve gone soft. No. I’m not asking that buffoon for a favor.”

  “He’s perfect.” Archie’s hand gestures grew with each rationalization. He reminded Ruddy of a mutton-chopped defense attorney. “They’ll never suspect him. He can go in under the cover story of writing an article on boxing and the club. They’ll jump at the chance for good press. No one will suspect his true mission.”

  Ruddy started to argue but other than his personal dislike of Marsden, there wasn’t a good reason for him to say no. It was clever, a perfect cover for a spy. “Damnation Arch, I want to object but I can’t. It’s wickedly sly. I like it.”

  “Let’s go and talk to him. There is one catch to this,” Archie said, donning his bowler.

  “I’ll be beholden to him.”

  “No way around it.”

  ****

  The London Gazette took up the lower floor of the old brick building that used to house an iron works. The large front windows facing the street were a complete waste in Ruddy’s opinion since they were always shuttered closed when he was there. The most unusual thing about the paper was they employed an attractive female secretarial assistant in the newsroom. Very modern of them, he knew of no other newspapers who hired a woman.

  “Do any of your male employees pester her?” Ruddy asked, curious as Marsden looked over the reports.

  He looked up. “No. That was a condition of her employment. She’s not to consort with any of the men and she doesn’t. She comes to work, does her job, and goes home. She has children and needs the money. She won’t risk her job.”