Penny Green series Box Set 2

by Emily Organ

  “May I have a look inside the storeroom?” asked James, gesturing toward the door in the wall.

  “Of course,” said Mr Kurtz.

  We followed him across the room and he opened the door. James and I stepped inside and saw that it was a gloomy, cluttered room. The wooden shelving that ran all the way around it was loaded with jars and cases. The only light came from a small window at the far end.

  “This is where we keep the specimens we have no space for in the museum,” explained Mr Kurtz. “We put them on display from time to time, and they’re always here for medical students to look at should they request to do so.”

  James walked around the shelving, inspecting some of the items stored there. I peered at a number of jars containing various body parts, and a twisted spine mounted on a display stand.

  “Do you mind if I open this window?” asked James.

  “Not at all,” replied Mr Kurtz.

  James lifted the sash and peered outside.

  “I see there is a roof below here,” he said. “Do you ever keep this window open?”

  “Only when the weather is particularly warm.”

  “How easy would it be to open the window from the outside?”

  “For someone standing on the roof out there, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would somebody wish to do that?”

  “Someone may have wanted to enter the storeroom surreptitiously and lurk in here until the opportunity came to murder Mr Geller in the museum.”

  Mr Kurtz’s mouth hung open. “Do you think that’s what happened?” he asked.

  “It’s a possibility. Now, could this window be opened by someone who was standing on the roof outside?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t say I have ever tried it.”

  “Let’s give it a try then, shall we?” said James as he pushed the sash up a little further. He handed me his bowler hat and began to climb out.

  “Be careful, James!” I said, seeing that the roof was steeply sloped.

  “Shut the window behind me, please, Penny.”

  I reluctantly pulled down the sash and watched him examine the window frame as he balanced precariously on the steep roof. My heart rose into my mouth as he spent some time pushing his fingers against the sash, trying to gain enough traction to lift the window. It took a fair bit of effort and he almost overbalanced, causing me to emit an involuntary shriek of alarm.

  “That was close, wasn’t it, Miss Green?” said Mr Kurtz. “Your inspector almost fell and dashed his brains out!”

  Eventually, after a considerable struggle, James was able to slide up the sash and climb back in through the window.

  “There we are,” he said. “It’s not impossible for a chap to open the window from the roof. Do you ever lock this window, Mr Kurtz?”

  “No. I didn’t think anyone would ever be foolish enough to climb onto the roof out there.”

  “And you leave it open in warmer weather, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “That could explain how the culprit got into the museum without Geller noticing him,” James said, glancing around the storeroom. “There are plenty of hiding places in here for an intruder. Is the window ever left open overnight, Mr Kurtz?”

  “I like to ensure that it’s closed at night, but I cannot say, with certainty, that it has been closed every night. I may have overlooked doing so on occasion.”

  “And it certainly wasn’t locked, seeing as you felt it unnecessary to do that,” said James.

  “You think, Inspector, that a man gained access to this room some time during the night of the sixteenth of June and lay in wait for an opportunity to murder Richard?”

  “That’s exactly what I think. Has this room been thoroughly searched for clues?” asked James.

  “Inspector Stroud searched it.”

  “Let’s look again, in that case,” said James. “You two start at either end of the room and I’ll begin in the centre here.”

  I moved to one side, staying as far away from Mr Kurtz as possible, and began searching among the shelves, unsure of what I was looking for. There were many empty jars and others with contents I had no wish to look at closely. To my left was a small skeleton in a case.

  “I can’t see anything out of place in here,” said James after a while. “What about you, Penny? Have you found anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Mr Kurtz?”

  “No. As I said, Chief Inspector Stroud has already searched this room.”

  We looked around for a little while longer before reconvening in the centre of the room.

  “Can you be sure that the murderer climbed in through the window and lay in wait here, Inspector?” asked Mr Kurtz.

  “I cannot be entirely sure, but neither can I disprove the theory,” replied James, still looking around in case there was something he had missed.

  I left the confines of the small room and walked back into the museum. Was there a hiding place in one of the galleries above? I walked over to the spiral staircase and some jars on a low shelf caught my eye: they appeared to contain the cross-sections of lung which Kurtz had referred to earlier. I bent down to inspect them, wincing at the darkened, diseased tissue. Then something small and glittering behind one of the jars caught my eye.

  I retrieved it and was surprised to discover that it was an earring. It was a drop pendant style and appeared to be made of diamond and pearl.

  “What have you there, Penny?” asked James as he and Mr Kurtz stepped out of the storeroom.

  I showed him what I had found.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Mr Kurtz, do you have any idea how an earring might have found its way into the museum?”

  “An earring, you say?”

  He stepped over to look at it as I held it out in my palm.

  “No,” he concluded.

  “You don’t recognise it?”

  Mr Kurtz shook his head.

  “Your nurse friend,” ventured James. “Has she ever visited this room?”

  Mr Kurtz’s pale face flushed red. “No, never,” he replied curtly. “Besides, nurses don’t wear earrings like that one.”

  “Is there any other woman you’re aware of who might have entered this room?”

  “None that I’m aware of.”

  “Are there any female medical students at the current time?”

  “No, not at the moment.”

  “So it would be quite unusual for a woman to visit this museum.”

  “It would be fairly unusual, yes, although they do visit now and again. As does the occasional nurse.”

  “But a nurse wouldn’t wear jewellery like this as a rule.”

  “No.”

  “It is a very fine earring,” said James, gently lifting it from my hand and holding it up to the light to examine it more closely. “I’m surprised Inspector Stroud didn’t find it, perhaps it was dropped here after his search. I shall ask around the medical school to see if anyone has reported it missing. It would be extremely useful to identify its owner, don’t you think, Mr Kurtz?”

  “It would indeed, Inspector. I can’t think how on earth it has found its way in here.”

  “There’s another interesting discovery I need to tell you about,” said James as we left St Bartholomew’s Hospital. “I’ve been able to match the handwriting of another of the malicious letters.”

  “Whose is it?” I asked. “Tell me!”

  “I’m about to, Penny! The handwriting on the letter sent to Mr Edwards matches the handwriting on a letter sent to Borthwick by Jack Copeland.”

  “Jack Copeland?” I stopped. “Why should Jack Copeland write a letter like that?” I paused for a moment to think it over. “So Jeffrey Maynell and Jack Copeland have both been writing unpleasant things about me.”

  “It appears that way. But please don’t take it to heart.”

  “It’s rather difficult not to, isn’t it? Why would they write so maliciously and then speak to me as if they had never
done such a thing? What have I done to upset them?”

  “You are trying to investigate Borthwick’s suicide. I suppose they object to it.”

  “Mr Maynell I can understand; he’s such an unpleasant man. Oh, I meant to tell you that his wife paid me a visit yesterday evening.”

  “Did she?”

  I told James about my conversation with Lillian.

  “Poor woman,” he said. “She seems rather frightened of him.”

  “She is. And Mr Maynell must have told Mr Copeland to write the letter to Mr Edwards,” I said. “Perhaps Mr Copeland is frightened of Mr Maynell There’s no doubt the man is a bully.”

  “Did Mr Edwards uncover anything interesting about him?”

  “He didn’t, I’m afraid.”

  “But we know from Borthwick’s papers that Maynell was demanding financial compensation from Borthwick for an idea he supposedly stole. I shall have to return to Maynell and ask him about that.”

  “Please don’t tell him that his wife visited me. She would be in terrible trouble again if he found out.”

  “I won’t, don’t worry. I’ll have to watch my step with him. I don’t think he’s a man who should be crossed.”

  Chapter 39

  “Tiger!” I called out of my window that evening.

  The only reply was a train letting off steam as it pulled out of Moorgate station. I peered through the dusk at the chimneys and rooftops, but there was no sign of my cat.

  “Tiger!” I called again, leaning out of the window and placing a bowl of sardines on the roof tiles. It was unlike her to ignore my calls. In fact, she was usually waiting for me when I returned home each evening.

  A shaky panic began to rise in my chest. I tried to quell it by reassuring myself that she had been distracted by a pigeon or another cat.

  I sat down at my writing desk and returned to my work on Father’s book, but despite my attempts to concentrate my eyes kept wandering up from my papers to the window in front of me.

  Had I heard a miaow? Perhaps Tiger was injured.

  I tried to push these thoughts away and continue with my work. But just as I began to get some words down on the page I was disturbed by a knock at my door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s your sister!”

  I rose up and opened the door for Eliza, who stood on the landing in a shimmering blue dress.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Penelope, only George and I were passing on the way back from dinner at the Mansion House and I wanted to let you know about a wonderful idea we’ve just had.” She paused to look at me, then added, “Are you all right?”

  “Tiger hasn’t come home.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s a cat.”

  “But she’s never disappeared before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, Penelope.”

  Eliza walked into my room with a swish of satin.

  “I shan’t stay long, as George is waiting outside in the cab. At dinner we discussed Father’s disappearance and decided that we should ask Mr Fox-Stirling to go back to Colombia to look for him again.”

  “You and George have decided that?”

  “Yes. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? And we’ll make sure he takes a Spanish speaker with him this time.”

  “But isn’t he about to travel to the Himalayas?”

  “He is, yes. But we will need some time to raise the money. We were hoping that Mr Fox-Stirling could go out next year to search for him.”

  I sank down onto my bed.

  “I don’t know about this, Ellie. It’s an awful lot of money to spend. Besides, Mr Fox-Stirling didn’t find him last time, so why would he find him at the second attempt?”

  “Having a Spanish translator with him would be of enormous help. And Mr Fox-Stirling knows where he’s going. He found Father’s hut, didn’t he?”

  “But it’s been nine years! If Mr Fox-Stirling goes there next year it will be ten years since Father disappeared! How can he hope to discover anything more about his whereabouts?”

  “If Father is still alive he has every hope!”

  “And if he isn’t?”

  “I think we must at least try to find out, Penelope. For as long as there’s hope we need to keep trying.”

  “But if he were still alive he would have contacted us by now. It’s been so long. And if he’s alive yet hasn’t contacted us… Well, I suppose he has a reason for that. Perhaps he wishes to be left alone.”

  “He has no right to be left alone!” Eliza barked. “He has a wife and two daughters. We are entitled to know what has happened to him!”

  I shrank back from my sister’s anger.

  “I apologise for my outburst, but I have given this matter a great deal of thought. I realise there is a possibility that he may have started a new life out there and no longer wishes to have anything to do with us, but we’re his daughters!”

  “I know.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. “But I don’t think it’s possible that he could still be alive, Ellie. Sending Mr Fox-Stirling out there again would be a waste of time. Besides, I don’t even like the man. If we were to go to all the trouble of raising the money I should like to choose someone different.”

  “But he already knows the country. Who else is as well acquainted with Colombia as he?” She sighed. “Oh, I really thought you would be supportive of this plan. George and I have just had the most pleasant meal discussing it, and I felt certain you would agree that it was a good idea. It’s rather disappointing that you don’t. Would you prefer to believe that Father is dead? Does that make life easier for you in some way?”

  Eliza’s eyes were damp, and I felt a lump rise up into my throat.

  “It was a fact to which I had grown accustomed,” I replied quietly.

  “And so had I! I appreciate that this feels like the opening of an old wound, but we have to try, don’t we? He’s our father!”

  “I know!” I replied irritably.

  I got up from the bed and walked over to the window, hoping my cat would appear at that very moment.

  “I shall give you some time to ponder the idea,” said Eliza. “Perhaps I caught you rather unawares.”

  “Yes, you did. I’m sorry, Ellie,” I said, turning to face her. “I’m rather worried about Tiger at the moment, so I’m not in the most receptive mood. I’ll have a think about it.”

  “But she’s a cat! Cats always come back. If you had children to worry about you certainly wouldn’t waste time worrying about an animal in this manner. In fact, you wouldn’t even have noticed she was gone.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better, Ellie.”

  My sister moved toward the door. “I can see that. I should leave. Perhaps you can get in touch with me when you’ve thought more about what we have discussed.”

  “I will.”

  My sister closed the door behind her, and as I looked out of the window my heart felt even heavier. It was close to nightfall and the sardines on the roof lay untouched. I was unable to concentrate on my work, so I decided to go out and look for Tiger.

  She had to be in trouble.

  I descended the steps outside Mrs Garnett’s front door.

  “Tiger!” I called, scouring the street around me for the slightest movement in the dark. I strained my ears to listen out for her miaow, but all I could hear were the trains and the distant clop of horses’ hooves.

  I walked up and down the street calling for her, but there was no sign. I peered into the shadows of the gutter, worried that she might have fallen prey to an unforgiving carriage wheel.

  Then I caught sight of a figure further up the street. I stopped and stared, my heart pounding in my ears.

  It was her. The woman in grey.

  “Oi!” I shouted, throwing all thought of manners aside.

  The figure moved slightly in response.

  “Why are you watching me?” I shouted. “What do you want?”

  There was no reply, and as I watched she b
egan to walk away from me.

  “Come back!” I called out, marching after her. Although I wanted to run I was wary that doing so would cause her to sprint off again. “Have you got something to tell me?”

  “Stay away!” came the reply, echoing the words she had chalked on my door.

  “Why?” I called back. “What will you do to me if I don’t?”

  The woman broke into a run and I knew there was little use in chasing after her again. Then a horrible sickening sensation lurched in my stomach.

  Had she harmed Tiger?

  “Have you taken my cat?” I shouted as loudly as I could. “Have you harmed her?”

  But the woman was gone.

  She had taken Tiger. She had done something cruel to her.

  I tried to tell myself that I was imagining it. I could accept that the woman was willing to threaten me by writing messages on the door, but I couldn’t believe that she would harm a poor little animal.

  She had warned me to stay away and I had ignored her. Had I paid a heavy price for my disobedience?

  “Miss Green, whatever is the matter?” asked my landlady as I stood in the hallway, my face wet with tears.

  “She’s done something to Tiger!” I cried.

  “Who has?”

  “The woman who wrote on the door. I saw her out there just now and Tiger is missing. She never goes missing!”

  “I’m sure she has done nothing of the sort.”

  “She did! I know she did! Tiger hasn’t come home!”

  Mrs Garnett took me by the arm and guided me into her parlour where I had sat with Lillian Maynell just a few days before.

  “Sit yourself down there, Miss Green, and I’ll fetch you some of Dr Cobbold’s Remedy.”

  I sat on the chair and wiped my face with my sleeve, but still the tears continued to flow. What had happened to Tiger? I thought of her alone and suffering without me there to help her.

  Mrs Garnett returned and poured some amber-coloured syrup from a brown bottle onto a spoon.

  “Here, this will see you right.”

  I opened my mouth as she spooned in the remedy; a cloying mixture of sugar and tar. As I reluctantly swallowed a sharp tingling sensation ran up my nose and across my forehead.