Chapter 11 #2
She paused by the heavy folds of claret-colored velvet draperies pulled to one side of the French doors in order to tug the brim of her floppy hat down a bit lower.
“If I find nothing of interest in the drawers, I’ll take a closer look at Langdon’s corpse—”
“Don’t touch him!” Charlotte suddenly dropped to a crouch and was staring into a shadowed nook created by the velvet pooled against the molding of the door frame. “Please bring me two pencils and a piece of paper.”
Wrexford grabbed up the requested items and hurried to join her. “What the devil …”
He fell silent as she took one of the pencils and used it to gently dislodge several small scarlet berries from tangled fabric and roll them out onto the parquet floor.
Picking up the second pencil, Charlotte created a makeshift set of pinchers and slowly extracted a twig with a few open seed pods still attached to it, and then retrieved a single long thorn.
“Hand me the paper,” she said, keeping her gaze focused on the botanicals. After folding it into a cuplike container, she leaned it on its side and scooped up her discoveries.
“I’m assuming from the dramatics that I’m about to hear a very unwelcome announcement,” said Wrexford, once she had gingerly carried the paper container to the desk and moved the lamp closer.
“As a man of science, you wouldn’t wish for me to ignore empirical evidence,” replied Charlotte. “What I’ve found indicates that Lord Langdon’s death was likely not from natural causes.”
She hesitated, looking unhappy about being the messenger of ill tidings. “These berries come from a plant known as Rosary pea. They’re highly poisonous. Indeed, a single prick from a sharp object coated with a bit of the berry’s seed paste will cause a quick death.”
“There are any number of red berries in English gardens,” pointed out Wrexford. “How can you be so damnably sure that these are Rosary peas?”
In reply, she touched the base of one of the berries with the pencil point. “See here—the berry has a very distinctive black bottom—it looks like it’s been dipped in India ink. The seed pods are also easy to recognize by their sword-like shape.”
“Since when have you become such an expert in botany?” He frowned in thought, puzzled by how she had so quickly recognized such an obscure plant. “Especially these particular berries.”
“Alas, you’re not going to like my answer.” Her gaze returned to the paper container. “I recognize this particular plant because just a fortnight ago, Mr. Campbell was showing Hawk and me a section of the London Institution’s gardens known as a poison garden.”
Campbell.
“A number of toxic plants, like foxglove, have medicinal properties, but only if administered by a physician trained in the art of using them. So they are kept under lock and key,” continued Charlotte.
“But Campbell thought Hawk would enjoy sketching these berries because of the bright red color and distinctive markings.”
Wrexford released a heavy sigh, along with a muttered oath. “Holy hell, into what sort of devilry have we been drawn?”
“I have no idea, Wrex.” She, too, looked shaken. “I’ll go send for Baz to come as quickly as possible. Perhaps he can help us begin to unravel the answer.”
“Hmmph.” Henning regarded the items nestled within the paper for a long moment before turning on his heel and approaching Langdon’s remains. Bending low, he studied the man’s lifeless face, then extended his pinkie finger and did a bit of probing at the lips and tongue.
“Hmmph,” he repeated. “Poison usually constricts the muscles of the mouth. I see no sign of that here.”
“My guess is, Langdon knew his killer and saw him as no threat,” said Charlotte, intent on explaining her reasoning. “A friendly pat on the back, with the thorn concealed between his gloved fingers, and the prick would be enough to deliver the lethal dose.”
Henning straightened and gave a rusty chuckle. “Are you thinking of adding the writing of horrid novels to your arsenal of talents?’
Charlotte smiled at the surgeon’s usual show of sarcasm. “Granted, it’s an exotic murder that would fit quite nicely into one of Ann Radcliffe’s wildly popular books. But that doesn’t make it any less plausible.”
“In truth, lassie, I think that in this case your imagination has run away with you.”
“Why?” asked Wrexford.
“Because Rosary pea bushes are not uncommon in English gardens. They are used as ornamental plantings to add color and texture.”
“But to find the berries here in Langdon’s study—” began Charlotte.
“Which has doors leading out to the terrace and gardens,” interjected Henning.
“Rather than the scenario of an unknown murderer, a more plausible explanation for how the berries and locust tree thorn came to be where you discovered them is that one of the gardeners had a sprig snagged on his work smock when he came in to make a report. It likely caught on the draperies and fell off.”
Wrexford pursed his lips. “That does make some sense.”
Charlotte felt a prickling of unease as she regarded Henning’s face. Was that a quicksilver ripple of shadow in his eyes as he looked away?
Or is my imagination on edge because of the recent events?
But for the moment, she pushed such unsettling thoughts aside. “I don’t consider myself prone to histrionics, Baz.” A conciliatory nod. “You may be right. But why don’t we remove Langdon’s shirt and coat and make a careful examination, just to be sure we’re not missing something.”
“Of course I’ll examine the body, but that’s best done at my mortuary,” snapped Henning. “And I don’t see why it can’t wait until morning.”
His reaction took her completely by surprise. “B-But …” She drew in a sharp breath. “I don’t understand. I just explained the connection between the berries and Campbell. That alone should be enough to take my conjecture very seriously. And yet, you seem to be dismissing it out of hand.”
“I simply don’t see it as being as ominous as you do,” retorted the surgeon.
“Campbell was a gardener, and he showed you the plant, which is not as uncommon as you seem to think, because he thought Hawk would enjoy sketching it. And now you find it here, in close proximity to another garden.” He waggled his shaggy brows. “Coincidences do happen.”
“They do,” conceded Wrexford, who had remained strangely silent during the tart exchange.
“But Charlotte does have a point. If the body lies in your mortuary until morning—by the by, Griffin has also been alerted and will be arriving with the requisite body wagon shortly—there’s a good chance that any evidence of a pinprick will be masked by the discoloration of flesh that sets in as death takes its course. ”
The earl paused. “Taking a look now, while the body is still fresh, makes logical sense.”
A fact which Baz knows better than we do, thought Charlotte.
“I can’t help but feel that your friendship with Campbell was deeper than you first indicated,” she said, after allowing ample time for a response. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
“Bloody hell, just because I disagree with you is no reason to make such an insulting insinuation,” growled Henning.
“I think you know that no offense was meant,” said Wrexford softly. “After all, it was you who alerted us to the fact that Campbell’s murder was more than just a random robbery gone wrong by mentioning your concerns about the missing ring on his finger.”
Their friend refused to look at either of them, noted Charlotte.
“We’re simply searching for the threads that can lead us to the truth, Baz,” added the earl.
Muttering under his breath, the surgeon stalked over to the corpse. “Fine! Then let’s have a look.”
A fraught silence settled over the room as he methodically unwound Langdon’s cravat and then removed his coat and shirt.
The man’s flesh had already taken on the waxy ice-white pallor of death, and as Charlotte approached, a chill skated down her spine—and not just because of the grim reminder of mortality. It was Henning’s expression that made her blood run cold.
Focus, focus.
Pretending not to notice the surgeon’s scowl, she moved close to Langdon’s chair and forced her attention to the task at hand. “Wrex, most gentlemen keep a magnifying glass in the same desk compartment as their pen knife.”
A drawer opened and then shut.
“Here you are,” said the earl, and quickly handed it over.