The Blue Girl: A Short Story of Scotland Yard's Murder Squad from the author of The Yard and The Black Country, A Special from G.P. Putnam's Sons

by Alex Grecian

  He stood and leaned toward me over the desk. Finally he showed some real emotion. “This is outrageous!” His voice cracked as it rose and I could see the muscles bunching under his well-tailored white shirt. “You’ll regret this charade. I can promise you that.”

  “That’s enough, Geoffrey dear.”

  I turned and watched the woman drift in through the open study door. She moved around to the other side of the desk and laid a proprietary hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder. He instantly relaxed.

  “Lily is dead,” he said to her.

  “I heard,” she said. “I was listening at the door. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?” he said.

  “Be calm, dear.” She turned to me. “Very clever, Constable. Were you hoping my brother would confess to killing poor Lily if you angered him sufficiently?”

  “It was a thought,” I said.

  She had changed her dress since I saw her at the lending library and she had freed her long auburn hair from its chignon. I knew she was a spiteful creature, and a librarian to boot, but my heart beat a little faster and I realized that a part of me still wanted to see Veronica Cream smile.

  “You told me you were a detective,” she said.

  “I hoped to impress you. I always hope to impress beautiful women. But it was a useful lie because you ran straight to your brother and warned him that I might visit. Do you think he would have let me in the door if he knew I was a constable?”

  “I doubt it very much. So you knew I was here the entire time?”

  “I suspected you were.”

  “You seem to suspect a great deal. Did you follow me here from the library?”

  “No. Your brother called me ‘Inspector’ before I’d even introduced myself. My calling card says no such thing.”

  “How clever of you. Perhaps you should be a detective after all.”

  “Did you murder poor Lily George?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Perhaps you both killed her.”

  “Not at all. If she’s dead, I’m sure she did it to herself. She was a timid thing, never strong.”

  “Lily drowned in the canal four streets over. But she was choked first. There were marks on her throat.”

  “She must have met with an unfortunate accident,” Veronica said. “My brother and I are devastated, of course.”

  “An accident?”

  “I can only assume. Perhaps she went for a walk last night and was surprised by a ruffian. Some man, some criminal, strangled Lily for whatever she had in her pocketbook and then threw her in the canal. It seems clear enough to me. Perhaps if you were out there doing your job such things wouldn’t happen.”

  “It works as a story,” I said. “But you like stories, don’t you? I prefer the truth.”

  “I suppose the truth is whatever you choose to believe, ‘Inspector.’”

  “Enough, Veronica.” Geoffrey’s voice was quiet and he didn’t look at me as he spoke. I couldn’t see his face. “I did try to help poor Lily, you know.”

  “You tried to help her?” I said.

  “Oh, do be quiet, Geoffrey,” Veronica said.

  He ignored her. “She really was an emotional girl. I thought she might brighten up a bit upon marriage, but she went to her room directly after the wedding and wouldn’t come out for hours.”

  “She was unhappy?”

  Geoffrey nodded. “I don’t know why. I really don’t. I became . . . concerned. When I finally had my man open her door, she was sitting at her vanity, staring into the mirror and she had the most horrible bruises on her neck. She didn’t say anything. She simply stood and left her room, walked right past me as if I didn’t exist, and walked out of the house.”

  “Her throat was already bruised?”

  “She must have done it to herself.”

  “You didn’t follow her?”

  “I thought she’d come home. I thought we’d talk.”

  “Did your sister follow her?”

  “I did not,” Veronica said.

  “No,” Geoffrey said. “She was here with me. She never left.”

  Veronica smiled and I was disappointed to find I’d been wrong: a smile failed to improve her. “Let’s have enough of this foolishness,” she said. “No crime’s been committed here. Join us for tea, Mr Pringle.”

  She moved around the desk and approached me. One sleeve of her dress had slipped from her smooth white shoulder. She laid her fingers on my chest and I breathed her hair. Lilacs and vanilla. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror across the room and saw that wolf grin and was ashamed. Lamplight flickered across the surface of a diamond. I caught Veronica’s hand and twisted the ring from her finger. I pushed her away.

  “Why are you wearing a wedding ring?”

  “She asked me to keep it for her,” Veronica said.

  “Lily, you mean? Lily asked you to wear her wedding ring? I don’t believe it.” I turned to her brother. “Mr Cream, did you even notice that your sister is wearing your wife’s wedding ring today?”

  Geoffrey Cream blinked and said nothing. His sister’s lip curled at the edge and a throaty whisper echoed somewhere deep in her chest. “It was Mother’s ring, not some stranger’s. It didn’t belong to her.”

  “You took it from her?” Geoffrey said.

  “It was meant to be mine. Lily didn’t belong here. It’s always been the two of us and we’ve been happy.”

  “What did you do, Veronica?” I said.

  “She gave me the ring.”

  “Lily went to her room to freshen up after the wedding,” I said. “And you visited her there, didn’t you, Veronica? Did you tell her that Geoffrey didn’t love her? What else did you say to her? That he belonged to you?”

  “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” I could see the hate in her eyes. It looked more natural than her smile had.

  “You couldn’t stand to share your brother with another woman, could you?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the fire had gone out of her. Her brother tried to catch her eye, but she looked away from him at the shelves of books.

  “It must have bothered you when Geoffrey started seeing her. You controlled your emotions, but last night . . .

  “You two have been sharing this house since your father died,” I said. “You’ve settled into a routine here and Lily threatened everything, didn’t she?”

  “I barely spoke to her.”

  “You choked her.”

  Veronica looked worried for the first time. “We disagreed,” she said.

  “You must have nearly killed her.”

  “I touched her, that’s all. She was so fragile, there was nothing to her.”

  “Why would you choke her? And why wait until last night?”

  Veronica’s eyes flicked over to her brother and I realized. Turn back, turn back, you pretty thing. “They would have consummated their marriage,” I said. “That’s why, isn’t it? That’s why you finally attacked her.”

  Veronica swallowed hard and closed her eyes and I knew I was right. My stomach turned.

  “What’s he saying, Veronica?” Geoffrey said. “What did you do to Lily?”

  “You’re hardly blameless, Mr Cream,” I said.

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “I think she loved you. Letting her believe you loved her back was most unkind.”

  “You didn’t know her.”

  He was right. I felt angry and I felt uncomfortable, and I wasn’t certain if it was because the Creams loved each other too much or because they hadn’t loved the blue girl. She had been cruelly used by them and she had taken her own life. Someone needed to bear the responsibility for that. Someone needed to care.

  “You know what must have happened. Maybe she met someone, a ruffian.” I looked at Veronica, but there was nothing human left in her eyes. “But I think Lily threw herself into the canal. Because your sister made it so very clear that she wasn’t welcome here. You inspired her to
take her own life.”

  “None of this constitutes a crime, even if it were true,” Veronica said. “And you’ve no proof of any of it.”

  “But I do. I had proof the minute I laid eyes on Geoffrey, sitting here in yesterday’s clothing. The same clothing you were married in, isn’t that right?”

  “What does that have to do with . . .”

  “Marriage is the family business, isn’t it? I mean wasn’t your father an expert?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Marriage, Custom and Practise,” I said. I pointed to the library copy on Geoffrey’s desk. “Written by Robert Cream.”

  “My father wrote many things.”

  “I see that. How many of those did he write?” I gestured at the sea of marbled cardboard on the wall. “But this is the one that mattered to Lily.”

  I took the copy I had borrowed from the pocket of my overcoat and tossed it on the desk. It skidded and stopped when it bumped up against its twin. Two identical library books.

  “She was superstitious. She didn’t have any choice about getting married on a Saturday, but she still put sixpence in her shoe. She was doing her best to balance her luck, wasn’t she? And yet you wore those things.”

  “My shoes?” he said.

  “It’s bad luck for a groom to wear new shoes. Your sister needn’t have said anything to her. Lily left your father’s book out for you and yet you didn’t bother to look at it. If you had, you’d have known and you’d have given her the wedding she dreamed of. You simply didn’t care.”

  “But that’s . . . That’s still not a crime.”

  “Perhaps not, but I hope the scandal ruins you.”

  Geoffrey Cream’s eyes went wide. “What scandal?”

  “You’re going to be arrested,” I said. “That’s sure to cause some talk.”

  Veronica launched herself at me, her nails raking my cheek as I reeled backward. My shoulder hit the door and I fell into the hallway, directly into the path of the Creams’ single servant. I grabbed the little man and threw him at his snarling mistress, and they both went down in a heap. Through the open door I could see Geoffrey, still standing there, looking down at his shiny new shoes.

  I dabbed at my face with my handkerchief and was relieved to see that it came away with very little blood. I smiled. “That’s absolutely perfect,” I said. “As I was saying, you’re both under arrest. For assaulting a policeman.”

  I picked the little man up and apologized for using him as a projectile, and sent him to fetch the police round with a wagon. I kept watch over the strange siblings, but neither moved or spoke another word. They stood facing each other, almost touching, and they didn’t notice when I used Geoffrey’s stationery to write a note to my pretty shopgirl. I was going to miss our dinner date.

  • • •

  I didn’t see the old priest when I returned to the church. It was just as well. I didn’t want to have to explain to him that Lily George was dead because she’d had too much faith. It was no one’s fault that she’d placed her faith in the wrong man.

  I stayed there just long enough to light a candle for the blue girl. I didn’t believe a candle would help her, but she had believed. She had believed in a great many things.

  I had her portrait in my pocket, along with her wedding ring. The ring was rightfully hers and I had decided it belonged with her family. I didn’t know where to find them, but I had a decent pair of shoes. They weren’t new, but they were serviceable. I could walk all night if I had to.

  On the way out I dropped a penny in the poor box.

  For luck.

  • • •

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