A Drowning in Bath

by L. A. Nisula

  “Oh.” Even Milly was tactful enough not to flirt with the recently bereaved. “I’m very sorry.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for telling me...”

  I realized I hadn’t introduced myself. “Miss Pengear.”

  “Thank you, Miss Pengear. I will see what Inspector Sanders has to say.”

  We both smiled and nodded and watched him leave. When he’d gone, Milly turned back to me. “He was rather nice looking, don’t you think?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t really notice.”

  “You never do. So, did you learn anything at the baths?”

  I leaned against the empty end of the concierge desk and told her about the staff doors Mr. Langley had shown me. “So it would be possible for someone to slip into the baths and swim underwater if they were a strong swimmer, kill Miss Caldwell, and sneak away again. She was in a shadowy area, and the suits are so dark, it really wouldn’t be that hard. When Mr. Langley was searching for your earring, I was trying to watch him, and I had trouble finding him in the water even though I was following his movements.” I tapped my fingers against the desk. “So we know how it was done, but not why or by whom. If we could only find the connection between her and one of the guests. And I think it is one of the guests. Someone would have noticed someone out of the ordinary. Half the bathers noticed Mr. McSwain or Dr. Gaines, so it has to be someone they were expecting to see. Unless it was a staff member or servant. They slip around unnoticed all the time.” I leaned against the desk, trying to think about the staff. How would Miss Caldwell have known one of them? Or could someone have come in disguised as staff? I’d have to ask Mr. Langley how often the staff changed and if it were possible for someone to sneak in and pose as one of them.

  It seemed Milly had already lost interest. “And when are they opening the baths again?”

  “Oh, I thought you wanted to hear about the case.”

  At least Milly managed to look slightly abashed at that.

  “There wasn’t anything on the sign. I assume not until Miss Morrison leaves, at least. I saw her as she left the dining room, and she was a bit disturbed by the idea that I had been in the baths, and I didn’t even go into the water.”

  “I suppose I could see when the baths in town have mixed bathing.” She shrugged. “But I suppose we should go through to lunch.”

  I remembered Milly had seated herself uninvited at the gentlemen’s table the day before, so I quickly said, “I have too much to think about. I’m going to see if they’ll let me bring a sandwich upstairs.”

  “Suit yourself.” Milly headed off towards the dining room without me.

  After I’d given Milly enough time to get her own food and figure out where she was sitting, I slipped into the dining room and secured a couple of cheese sandwiches to take upstairs with me. As I snuck back out, I spotted Milly sitting with Miss Grangeway and her mother. That seemed a far better place for her than bothering the gentlemen—today it was only Mr. Douglas and Mr. Gibson reading their newspapers—or trying to find Mr. Rivers, which I wouldn’t put past her either. I took my sandwiches up to the room and sat at the desk, where I could let my mind wander around possible connections between Miss Caldwell and everyone else here without having to worry about being accosted by random people in the lobby.

  Unfortunately, I had gotten no closer to an answer when the room door opened, and Milly came in saying. “Cassie, I’ve done it.”

  I wasn’t sure if “it” was something I should be pleased or worried about. “What have you done?”

  “Well, I was chatting with Mr. Waterhouse, the desk clerk.”

  Flirting, more likely.

  “And he happened to mention that his records were such a mess. Well, I told him he should have them typed up, then he wouldn’t have any trouble reading them. And it turns out they usually are typed out for him, but the man who does it is on holiday in Spain and hasn’t been able to do the latest batch. So I told him that you’re an excellent typist and not opposed to a little extra work, even on holiday.”

  Occasionally Milly stumbled on a truly good idea. “And naturally I would have to see the records if I’m to type them up. And if there’s a connection, I should be able to see it. Milly, that was brilliant.”

  “I know, wasn’t it? He said to come down anytime.”

  “Then I’d better go before he changes his mind.”

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Mr. Waterhouse proved to be the friendlier of the desk clerks, not the one who hadn’t wanted to tell us how to find the police station. When I introduced myself and explained why I was there, his face lit up, and he led me directly through to the office, which was small but well-appointed, with a very modern typewriter on the small table by the door.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Miss Pengear, although as I told Miss Prynne, any room service you order while I’m on duty will be complimentary. Mr. Carter usually does this sort of thing, and I have no idea where to begin. It was so much easier for him.”

  I was tempted to point out that it was simply a matter of pressing the right keys and practice, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I glanced at the stack of cards he handed me, all with the guests’ names printed on them. “I think it would be best if I worked from the original reservations, to be certain I get all of the spellings correct.” There would be no point to the exercise at all if I didn’t get to see the originals.

  “Of course, of course. What was I thinking? I’ll get them for you.”

  While Mr. Waterhouse went to get the requested files, I got the typewriter set up and found the best chair in the room.

  “Here we are, Miss Pengear. I think that’s all of them.” He put a stack of envelopes on the desk beside the typewriter. We spent a few moments discussing how he wanted me to set up his cards, and then he left me in peace.

  As soon as I had the room to myself, I flipped through the envelopes until I found the one booking Miss Caldwell’s stay. It had not been written by her, which wasn’t a surprise. I noted down the name that had requested it, a rather generic “Mr. Harris” who seemed to be some sort of secretary, which seemed rather odd as I doubted she’d have a secretary of her own, and why would she use one of her father’s people if she didn’t want him to know about it? Unless she thought she could trust this Mr. Harris to keep his mouth shut. I turned the envelope over and looked at the return address. It listed a place in Pendleford, 7824 Oak Street, Box 684 specifically. I supposed Mr. Caldwell’s company could have offices there. It was something to check anyway. Otherwise, Mr. Harris was either her admirer or worked for him. Oddly enough, it was postmarked Leighwick, which was a village we’d passed by on the way here, but perhaps Mr. Harris had been sent to check the hotel’s suitability or something of that nature and posted the request on the way back. I turned back to the typewriter and started working.

  It took less than an hour to make my way through the stack of reservations to be typed up. There hadn’t been much out of the ordinary. The Misses Bates had reserved their room three months before in a letter written by Miss Emmaline and sent from the post office in Bibury. The Fredricksons had done the same in a letter written two months before by Mrs. Fredrickson and posted from Birmingham. Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Gibson had both reserved by mechanical bird with no postmarks to be read. I couldn’t find a reservation for Mr. Douglas. The only connection I found to Miss Caldwell was to Mr. Mulgrove. His letter was also postmarked Leighwick and sent with a Pendleford return address, although from what appeared to be an office building, as it was listed as 7824 King Street #684. It was odd, but hardly conclusive. Still, it was the best I had, so I made a note of it before bringing the newly typed cards and the originals out to Mr. Waterhouse’s desk. I asked him for directions to the post office and accepted his offer of tea and Bath buns in our room, then went upstairs to tell Milly the outcome.

  Milly was quite excited that her plan had produced results, and even more excited about the tea that was being sent up. She encouraged me to go at once to
follow up on the lead, although I wasn’t completely certain if it was because she wanted to see how it turned out and take credit if she could or because she wanted all of the Bath buns. Either way, I quickly gave in to her pestering and went off to find the post office.

  When I got to the post office I had been directed to, I realized at once that I was unlikely to find any help there. It was a large, impersonal city office, not the friendlier sort of office in a shop I’d been hoping for. But as I was there and Milly knew where I had gone and would ask about the results as soon as she remembered, I thought it at least worth trying.

  The line inside was no longer than to be expected. I waited my turn and tried to find something to look at, but there were no interesting displays of postcards or stamps and all of the other patrons were clearly tourists on holiday. There were three clerks working, and I was hoping to get the youngest one who seemed new and eager to please. But when my turn came, I was directed to the clerk who seemed to be in charge of the other two.

  “Parcel or letter?” he asked as soon as I approached the counter.

  “I had a question about an address.”

  “In or out of Bath?”

  I felt a glimmer of hope. “Out.”

  “And how have you styled the address?”

  “It isn’t one I’ve written out. It’s two, actually. I’m trying to find out if there is a connection between them.”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t part of our service. If you do not have something to post, please proceed along the counter. Thank you.” He motioned for the next person in line to approach his station.

  I knew I wouldn’t get any answers there, so I proceeded along towards the exit. Perhaps I could ask someone else at the hotel if there was a small post office somewhere in town, run by someone who didn’t mind a bit of a chat. Mr. Langley might know.

  Chapter 14

  WHEN I ARRIVED BACK AT THE HOTEL, I went looking for Milly. She would most likely know where Mr. Langley was, and she might know whom else I could ask about a post office that might be more helpful. I found her easily enough, by the window in the lounge, and immediately tried to get away. She was deep in conversation with Mr. Douglas, and I didn’t want her asking me about my investigation in front of one of the suspects. However, I wasn’t quick enough. I’d barely stepped back into the doorway when she spotted me and waved. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen her, but Mr. Douglas had noticed Milly’s reaction and turned to see whose attention she was trying to get. I couldn’t very well ignore them both, so I smiled and crossed to them.

  As soon as I had joined Milly on the window seat, she asked, “Did you learn anything at the post office?”

  I supposed I should be glad she didn’t yell that across the room for everyone to hear, but I still didn’t want to tell Milly everything in front of Mr. Douglas, as he was still a suspect, a concept which Milly was clearly not familiar with.

  Milly ignored my silence. “I was just telling Mr. Douglas all about how clever we were finding out who had reserved what when.”

  “It was an excellent bit of deduction,” Mr. Douglas said.

  Milly beamed at him.

  “On both your parts,” he added. “Were they able to tell you anything?”

  There didn’t seem to be a way to avoid taking him into our confidence. “They said it wasn’t part of their service, which I took to mean they didn’t want to be bothered.”

  Mr. Douglas nodded sympathetically. “So they both had return addresses in Pendleford? I wonder what business either of them could have had there, or how Miss Caldwell would have picked up a response there, for that matter.”

  Milly tucked her arm through his. “And they’re both postmarked ‘Leighwick’; that’s some sort of connection, although not much of one, I’ll admit.”

  Mr. Douglas brightened up. “Well, Leighwick isn’t terribly far from here. If you’d like, I could hire a carriage and run us down there in the morning.”

  “Oh why not, Cassie? It’s not like we have anything pressing here.”

  I sighed. “It’s the best lead we have at the moment, so I suppose we ought to.”

  “Excellent. I’ll go and arrange for the carriage while I send off my telegram. If you ladies will excuse me. Shall we meet in the lobby after breakfast?”

  We both nodded, and Mr. Douglas went off to make the arrangements.

  When he was out of hearing, I said, “He certainly does send an awful lot of telegrams.”

  This time, Milly nodded. “And receives them too.”

  “I wonder who he’s corresponding with, and in such an expensive manner.”

  I was surprised when Milly answered, “So do I. I tried to get a look at a few of them, but he always folds them up when he sees me coming.”

  Probably sensible, but not very helpful to us. “A pity.”

  Milly shrugged. “We really ought to dress for dinner.”

  I nodded absently and followed her upstairs, still wondering who Mr. Douglas’s mysterious correspondent could be. If it was a lady, he was certainly hiding the fact that he was attached well, although that was possible. I couldn’t help thinking of several Jane Austen characters, although I hoped Milly wasn’t allowing her head to be turned by him. And he did seem to be dividing his attentions between us, although not with the other ladies. But then he couldn’t really flirt with Miss Morrison under the circumstances, and perhaps he was more intimidated by Mrs. Grangeway than Milly was. Or perhaps he was answering to some sort of an employer. But then why was he here pretending to be a gentleman of leisure? I knew Milly wouldn’t like any of the answers I was coming up with.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Dinner was another silent meal, broken only by the Fredrickson girls chattering, and even they seemed quieter than usual, making me wonder if their parents had found some way to tire them out during the day. Milly and I had a table to ourselves, which was also part of it, I was sure, as that meant I didn’t feel the need to make conversation and she spent the meal focused on her food. But the meal seemed slightly less gloomy than the night before. I wasn’t certain why, but I thought it had something to do with the fact that everyone had decided to join us that evening. Even Miss Morrison was sitting with the Bates sisters by the window and seemed to be chatting easily. The gentlemen were all seated at the same table, not speaking but not hiding behind their newspapers either. And the Grangeways seemed to be deep in conversation. When the desserts were brought around, Miss Grangeway went to the Bateses’ table and struck up a conversation with Miss Morrison. It was all very calm and friendly. The only person missing was Mr. Douglas, but I supposed he was busy with his telegrams, or possibly with getting us our carriage for the morning.

  We were just starting on our desserts, a slice of chocolate torte for me and a raspberry Napoleon for Milly, when Miss Grangeway and Miss Morrison flitted past our table. “Oh, Miss Prynne, we’re going to see if Mr. Langley can be pursued to sing with Miss Grangeway.”

  I could see Milly wanted to join them. I found myself wondering if Mr. Langley had any talents in that area at all, as he’d said he wasn’t qualified for the theater, not that they would care either way. That sort of question was probably why I didn’t seem to be included in the invitation. “Why don’t you go along, Milly.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No, I’ll finish my cake and follow when I’m done.” I could see Mrs. Grangeway following at a discreet distance, so I didn’t think Milly could push them into anything too scandalous, and the excuse of dessert would keep me well out of the whole thing.

  “Well, if you’re certain...” Milly was already on her feet. I could hear her asking, “What are you planning on singing?” As they made for the door, I returned to my cake, eating it as slowly as I could until the restaurant staff started clearing away the remains of the other dinners. I didn’t want to be in their way, so I finished the last of the crumbs and left.

  I was tempted to forgo the lounge altogether and go up to our room, but I had told Milly
I would follow, and I didn’t want her waiting for me if she needed an escape. And Mr. Langley had been very helpful on more than one occasion; if a rescue mission was required, the least I could do was attempt it.

  I was turning my steps towards the lounge when I heard, “Miss Pengear?”

  I was beginning to dread passing through the lobby. I turned and saw Miss Caldwell’s fiancé watching me from by the desk again. “Hello.” I tried to strike the right note between pleased to see him–even though I wasn’t–and sympathy–which was real but might have been more convincing if I’d remembered his name.

  “I’m not sure if you remember me, Mr. Rivers, Miss Caldwell’s fiancé?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was the sort to be that self-effacing or if I had somehow been obvious that I’d forgotten his name. “Of course. We met this afternoon. My deepest sympathies.”

  “Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve come looking for you. I wanted to ask you something. This afternoon, you said Miss Caldwell ‘was drowned.’ Did you mean to imply that it was not an accident?”

  This was always the difficult part. Would he prefer to believe the police story that it was nothing more than a tragic accident, or should I tell him what I saw, even if it would leave him with unfinished business? But if I was going to continue looking into her murder, I would need his help, and if the police ever did realize it wasn’t an accident, he wouldn’t thank me for keeping it from him. “My cousin and I saw her drown. We are convinced it was not an accident. Someone pushed her under.”

  Mr. Rivers stared into space for a moment. I kept quiet to let him think. He finally said, “Thank you for telling me. I would want her to have justice, then. How would we go about getting it if the police won’t listen?”

  “My cousin and I have been asking around, trying to find some evidence that they will believe.” I didn’t want to tell him how much. He might be a stoically grieving fiancé, or his lack of emotion might have other causes, ones that would make him a bad person to confide in too completely. “The other option would be to convince someone with more influence who could force them to take us seriously.”