Snifter of Death

by Chris Karlsen

  “Is there a room we can speak to Mrs. Zachary that is private? One with a door we can close?” Ruddy asked the butler.

  “The library, although Mrs. Zachary rarely uses the room these days. Her eyesight has grown too weak for her to read with ease. She prefers to greet visitors in the parlor.”

  “I understand but we’re not the usual visitors. What we wish to discuss is confidential. We’d appreciate it if you’d explain that to her. Please, we’d like to go to the library.”

  “Certainly.” He led them to a smaller room than the parlor. Stuffy and far hotter, Ruddy suspected the windows hadn’t been opened in ages. He also suspected Zachary wasn’t the only one who ignored the room. The maid did as well. A fine layer of dust covered the book shelves and the table separating two chairs at one end of the room. At the other end was a rolled-up carpet of a different pattern from the threadbare one on the floor.

  A few minutes later the butler entered with a petite, grey-haired woman about sixty years old, carrying their business cards. She wore gold-framed wire spectacles but her blue eyes were cloudy and she blinked rapidly when the butler opened the drapes to let sunlight in. She wore a lavender high-collared dress. There was a translucent quality to her skin and her complexion took on a faint lavender color too.

  “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Zachary?” the butler asked and helped her into one of the chairs. She didn’t offer the other chair to either detective.

  “No, I’m fine for the moment, Sternbaugh. You may go. Please close the door behind you.” She waited for the butler to leave and then said, “How awful you look, detective. Did you lose an encounter with a hooligan?”

  “I didn’t lose.” Ruddy thought it easier to let her think his nose was broken that way than tell her the truth.

  She sighed and sat very straight in the closest chair. She didn’t offer a seat to them. “Our civilization is falling apart. I mourn for its loss.” She looked to Ruddy. “You are?”

  “Detective Bloodstone and this is Detective Holbrook.”

  “I’ve never talked with detectives before. I’m intrigued. Sternbaugh tells me you wish to discuss a mysterious matter involving my household.”

  “We have some questions regarding your lady’s companion, Graciela Robson,” Ruddy said.

  “What would you like to know?”

  Archie took out his notebook and a pen. “Her history with you to start. Where did you find her? How long has she been with you?”

  “She had placed an advertisement in Myra’s Journal of Dress and Fashion offering her services as a lady’s maid. I didn’t need a lady’s maid but I was newly widowed and in need of a companion. I interviewed her and found Graciela sweet. She was also well spoken in spite of the fact her father was only a simple cobbler. That was ten years ago. At the time, she was living in the Oxford area and she came to London to meet with me.”

  At the mention of Oxford, Archie and Ruddy exchanged a subtle look but kept their expressions neutral in front of Zachary.

  “You’re certain she lived in the Oxford area?” Ruddy wanted confirmation.

  “I’ve lost my youth Detective Bloodstone, not my wits.”

  “No offense meant. It’s important we’re certain of our facts.” She looked unmoved by the explanation.

  “Do you know if she has an elderly aunt?” Archie asked.

  “She’s never mentioned one. To my knowledge she only has an older brother who lives in Oxfordshire somewhere. I don’t believe they keep in contact. Her mother had been dead for ages when we met and her father passed away a year ago.”

  “Does she have a day off?” Ruddy asked, hoping it was Monday.

  Zachary nodded. “Monday.”

  “Do you ever give her time off in addition to Mondays?”

  “On occasion she’ll run personal errands on afternoons when I don’t need her or if I am napping. What exactly are you looking to know about Graciela?”

  “We can’t really say at this time, Mrs. Zachary, only that it is related to a case we’re investigating,” Archie said.

  “Has she ever talked about any of the men in her life?” Ruddy asked.

  Zachary removed her glasses. Ruddy figured she did so to emphasize her scowl and disapproval of the notion. “She wouldn’t dare. I have a strict rule about flirtations. Graciela knew when I hired her that I did not approve of male visitors nor did I wish a companion seeking marriage. I’ve nothing against marriage. But I don’t have the patience to constantly search out new companions and train them because the previous one has fallen in love.”

  Ruddy pressed to know if one of the four men’s names were mentioned as part of her past. “Did she ever talk about having been smitten with a young man from the university when she lived in Oxford?”

  Zachary shook her head. “I’d really like to know what this is about. After all, she is part of my household and if there’s a criminal matter at hand, I believe I deserve to know.”

  “We will tell you as soon as we are at liberty to do so. At this time, we can’t without jeopardizing our investigation,” Ruddy explained again.

  “In that case, are we done?” Zachary reached for the butler’s bell cord.

  “We will need to speak to Miss Robson. Is she here?” Archie asked.

  “She is. I’ll have Sternbaugh bring her to the library.”

  There was a knock at Graciela’s bedroom door. “Miss Robson.”

  Sternbaugh

  She opened the door expecting he’d tell her Mrs. Zachary wanted to go somewhere and for Graciela to join her.

  “There are two detectives in the library who wish to speak with you,” Sternbaugh said.

  Her heart stopped at his words. “Detectives? What do they want to speak to me about?”

  “They spoke to Mrs. Zachary in private but Millie listened at the door. She heard them asking a lot of questions about you. They even inquired if you had headaches. Odd, I know. You best come now and not keep them waiting.” Sternbaugh stepped aside for her to pass.

  Graciela never liked Millie. The maid was the house busybody and gossip. For once her nosiness came in useful. If the detectives were asking about the headaches, they’d found a way to associate her with Dr. Finch. What else did they know or suspect?

  “Sternbaugh, please tell them I’ll be right down. I have a personal moment to attend to first.”

  “As you wish.”

  Graciela shut the door. The time had come to take care of Finch. She’d likely never get the chance to take revenge on Lloyd-Birch but Finch was within her grasp.

  She dropped Addy’s Derringer into her reticule. She’d have to shoot him. Poison took too long to take hold. She couldn’t risk the time. Graciela foresaw two possible endings. In the perfect one, she’ll kill Finch and get away. She’d need every cent she had to start over, perhaps in Canada or America. She reached into the back of her dresser drawer and retrieved a small satin bag with all the money she had on hand.

  In the second ending, the terrible one, she’d still kill Finch but get caught by the police. She thought the chance remote since the detectives only said they wanted to question her. They didn’t indicate they were there to arrest her, which she was sure they’ve have said if that were the case. But Peelers were a slippery lot. She lumped them into two groups, haughty bully-boys or sly and cunning. She put Bloodstone and his partner in the last. How else did they get to be detectives unless they were cunning?

  Once the detectives heard she evaded them, they might anticipate where she was headed. Even if the chance was slim, she had to consider the end result. “I don’t have the courage to put a gun to my head, Me-Too. I definitely don’t want the horror of the hangman’s rope.” She pulled the flask of arsenic from her dresser. “Live by the sword, die by the sword. Isn’t that how the expression goes, sweet kitty?”

  She squeezed the cat to her chest tight and kissed the top of her head. “I shall miss you dearly, little one.”

  With Me-Too in the crook of her arm, fast as she coul
d while trying to keep her footsteps quiet, Graciela hurried down to the kitchen.

  Sternbaugh, Millie, and Tess the cook were at the table drinking tea. Graciela shoved Me-Too into Tess’s arms. “If something happens to me, promise you’ll take care of Me-Too. Promise.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?” Tess cradled the wriggling cat to her ample bosom.

  “I don’t have time to explain. Just promise you’ll take care of her.”

  “Of course. We all love her.”

  Sternbaugh stood and said in a stern voice. “You can’t leave. The detectives are waiting.”

  Graciela didn’t bother to answer. She dashed out the back door and ran down the alley. At the corner, out of sight of the house, she waved down a cab.

  The butler rushed into the library. “She’s gone,” he said in a burst to the detectives. “If you hurry, you might still catch her. She left by the kitchen door.”

  “Robson?” Archie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Take us through to the back, hurry,” Ruddy ordered as he and Archie fell in behind the butler.

  A woman in maid’s garb stood at the kitchen door but quickly moved as the detectives came into the room. “She went to the right.”

  Ruddy and Archie ran to the end of the alley. She was nowhere in sight.

  “Where do you think she’s headed?” Archie asked. “My guess would be out of the country.”

  “Good guess. We can’t watch all the train stations or the ports. I wonder how much money she has on her? The clever move is to get out of London, then head for Southampton or Liverpool and onto a boat across the Atlantic. Go somewhere no one knows her. She can sail fairly cheap in steerage,” Ruddy said. “First, let’s warn Finch and then Lloyd-Birch, just in case she makes a final attempt on one of their lives.”

  Ruddy and Archie entered the doctor’s empty waiting room. He hadn’t replaced Nurse Keating yet. As Ruddy raised his hand to knock on the exam room door, Finch’s excited voice could be heard pleading, “Don’t please. Why are you doing this?”

  Ruddy turned the handle. The door was locked. He took a few steps back and gave the lock a hard kick. The door banged open, bouncing against the wall and part way back.

  A mildly attractive brunette woman about thirty years of age stood over Finch with a Derringer pointed at his head.

  “Help me,” a saucer-eyed Finch, begged the detectives, his shaking hands partially up in surrender. “She’s insane.”

  “Take one step closer and I’ll shoot,” the woman warned.

  Ruddy stopped a couple strides from where she stood but offset to the right so the desk didn’t block him. “Graciela Robson?”

  “Yes, not that my name is important.”

  Ruddy did a fast analysis of the situation. Robson didn’t murder out of blood lust. She wasn’t a two-legged rabid dog style killer. She killed with a purpose. Her victims were connected. Murderers like that have a story to tell. If he could get her talking, she’d likely grow distracted enough to pay less attention to Finch. A small distraction was all he needed.

  Archie fanned out to Ruddy’s left. They’d been in similar situations before where a suspect had a weapon on a victim. The plan was for Ruddy to rush the suspect and Archie to wrap up the victim and pull them out of harm’s way.

  “I like to know who I’m talking to and the doctor should know who holds his life in her hands. My partner here is Detective Holbrook and I’m—”

  “I know who you are, Detective Bloodstone. I’ve been in Holborn Station and heard other detectives refer to you. I remember reading about you last year and that Viscount killer.”

  “Speaking of killing, did you murder Bartholomew Cross and Daniel Skinner?” One corner of her mouth tipped up in an awkward ghost of a smile and for a brief second her gaze dropped to the floor. Ruddy crept forward a fraction.

  Robson raised her eyes to Ruddy. “I did and now it’s this one’s turn.” She pressed the barrel of the gun into Finch’s temple.

  Finch chirped like a wounded bird.

  “Why?” Ruddy asked.

  “He deserves to die. He and his three friends raped me. There was no justice for me then, but I’m taking it now.”

  “I barely remember the incident.” A baffled looking Finch turned from Ruddy to the woman. “It was nothing worth dying for. You weren’t hurt. We had a bit of fun with you.” He shifted his attention back to the detectives. “We had a bit of fun is all. She was just some village girl we used to see walking along the riverside.”

  She struck Finch on the temple with the gun butt. “I was only fourteen.” The gun left a red streak mark but didn’t draw blood. The gun was too small and her strike too weak.

  Finch squealed like she’d struck him with a rifle butt.

  As victims went, the doctor offended Ruddy to the core. You really are a disgusting weasel, sniveling with fear. You and your wealthy young male friends rape a girl because you can, and now whimper when she hits you. Someone should knock you in the head with a real gun and not that lady-ish thing she’s carrying.

  “Did you report the crime when it occurred?” Ruddy asked.

  “No. What good would it have done? They were rich boys from the university. Who were the Peelers going to believe, me or them? A poor cobbler’s daughter or the sons of wealthy influential businessmen?”

  “Since you never gave the police a chance, we’ll never know,” Ruddy said.

  She pulled a flask from the pocket of her skirt, uncorked it with her teeth and tossed back the contents.

  Ruddy rushed her as Archie dived for Finch. Robson managed to fire a round before Ruddy tackled her to the floor. The shot missed Finch but grazed Archie’s upper arm.

  “Arch, are you all right? Are you hit?” Ruddy asked as Archie and Finch scrambled up from the floor.

  Archie stuck his hand inside his coat and felt around. “My coat’s ruined but it doesn’t feel like any other harm’s been done. I wonder if the department will pay for a new jacket?”

  “That was the last of my arsenic,” Robson told Ruddy as he brought her up and forced into the chair the doctor had occupied. “I won’t go to the gallows for those bastards. I’ll die on my own terms.”

  “What’s the antidote for arsenic poisoning?” Ruddy asked Finch, setting the Derringer on top a high cabinet out of her reach.

  “Why should I help her? She was going to kill me.”

  “Because I asked. Is there a treatment?”

  “Was it pure arsenic in the flask?” Finch asked Robson.

  “Yes.”

  “She’ll die. There’s no miracle medicine,” he told Ruddy.

  Robson eyed Finch with palpable hatred. “I’m glad I did what I did. I only regret not completing the job.”

  Ruddy shook his head. “Why after sixteen years did you go after them?” He was genuinely curious. “You had a decent life working for Mrs. Zachary.”

  “My life with Mrs. Zachary was pleasant enough. She took me places I wouldn’t have seen otherwise. To be honest, I thought I’d shoved the memory of what they’d done to the deepest recesses of my mind.” Robson paled and put her head down on her arms. “Give me a moment. I’m queasy.”

  Ruddy knew her loss of color and the nausea were signs the poison was taking hold. But he hadn’t witnessed the effects of arsenic poisoning as it worked its effect on a living body. The speed it worked surprised him.

  She continued but kept her head down. “Mrs. Zachary and I were having tea at the Kew Gardens café when I saw Bartholomew Cross there. He’d come in with a couple. He looked right at me, walked by me, and I could tell he had no idea who I was. I was nothing to him then and nothing now. All the memories of that horrible afternoon came flooding back.” Robson raised her head. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be nothing? To mean nothing to people like him? The man who lights the streetlamp outside his townhome is more noticeable to him.”

  She wiped at her tears with the back of her
hand.

  Finch dabbed at the red mark where she’d struck him with the butt of the gun. Archie snatched the handkerchief from his hand and gave it to her.

  “I’ve got this,” Ruddy told Archie. “Why don’t you go to the station and tell Jameson what’s happened and order the Medical Examiner to respond.”

  Archie nodded and left.

  Robson retched but nothing came out. “They laughed at me when I begged for them to leave me alone. They mocked me when I said I’d report them. I knew I was being foolish. Rich men write the laws. Rich men choose which to break, which laws other men like them will turn a blind eye to.” She clamped her arms over her stomach and doubled over, groaning.

  Ruddy helped her from the chair over to the exam table. “Lie down on your side and bring your knees up to your stomach. It might ease the pain.”

  Finch stood at the foot of the table and pointed to Robson. “Get her off there. I don’t appreciate that filthy criminal using my exam table.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t appreciate getting raped. So sit down and hold your tongue.” Ruddy ordered when Finch didn’t obey immediately.

  “Where...where...” Robson’s breathing was growing jagged. She struggled to draw in a deep breath. “Where did you learn about lying on your side with your legs up?”

  “The army. Dysentery is a common problem. It causes severe cramps. The company doctors often recommend doing this. Has it helped?”

  “A bit.” She closed her eyes and gripped her stomach tighter, whimpering as she did. After a moment she said, “You’re naïve and blind too, detective, in your own way.” She opened her eyes. “You believe by enforcing the law you’re pursuing justice.”

  “Not naïve and certainly not blind. The law isn’t always fair. There are those justice fails to serve. But for all its failings, the law is the difference between order and chaos. For that alone, I won’t abandon her,” Ruddy argued.

  “My way had sure results.”

  “No. Your way was only half effective for which you’re paying a mighty price now.”

  She gave a faint cry and then stilled.

  Ruddy covered her with a linen cloth that had been hanging over the privacy screen. “Be at peace now.”