Chapter 15 #3
She nodded. “Quite right. I will remember that when I need to make inquiries of my own.”
That was a situation that would need to be addressed, however this was not the moment.
I did value her knowledge, and the connections she had acquired had been extremely important in the past. However, the thought of an eighty-seven-year-old woman out and about all parts of London, making inquiries regarding murder, robberies, or other crimes was completely out of the question.
Perhaps I could persuade Brodie to discuss the matter with her. She did have a particular fondness for him. He might be able to discourage her.
I followed her from the formal parlor to the hallway.
The telephone was in an alcove she had built when I finally persuaded her that it was convenient for keeping up with those in her social circle.
There was an additional telephone in the room adjacent to the kitchens that Munro used as manager of her business affairs.
The alcove was much like a smaller version of a sitting room with a niche in the wall for the telephone and an overstuffed, wingback chair, a fold-down shelf for making notes, and a door that could be closed for privacy.
“It does take a bit of time while the exchange person connects to another exchange person in Kent,” she explained.
“It would be most efficient if it could go straight through. I shall have to speak with Colonel Jackson about the matter. He is the chairman of the company.”
I was not surprised that she was acquainted with him.
“If an invention is to be presented to people,” she continued, “it should be efficient and without difficulties.”
This from someone who had refused to use the telephone when it was first installed. ‘Dreadful thing,’ she had called it. According to her, she could hear voices. A natural phenomenon when it was first connected at Sussex Square.
She lifted the earpiece and depressed the lever to begin the call.
“That would be Kent, dear woman,” she told the operator. “The residence of Lady Ellsworth. Surely you are familiar.”
The telephone calls I made about London, including Sussex Square, took a very short time to be put through. However, it took somewhat longer beyond the city.
“Eugenia. Is that you, my dear? It is Antonia in London,” my great-aunt spoke into the mouthpiece.
“Dreadful connection,” she continued. “However, we are making progress regarding your grandson, Sir Thomas. Yes, Mikaela is here. She would like to speak with Anthony about that night. Have you seen him or spoken with him, dear?”
“I do understand. Most difficult,” she added. “Of course, dear, when this dreadful business is over and you return to London. I shall look forward to it.”
The call ended and she placed the earpiece back on the cradle of the phone.
“She has not seen Anthony since the funeral, undoubtedly quite busy at the bank. He was to make arrangements to have Thomas’s flat cleared. But there’s been no word from him. Although not unusual. She has never shared the same feelings for him as for Thomas.
“What is to be done now?” she then asked.
I explained that following up clues and searching for other ones was often tedious work.
“A telephone call?” she replied. “Is that all that I’m asked to do?” She was disappointed. “I had hoped that it might be more exciting.”
I gave her a hug and assured her the information was most helpful.
“You will let me know if there is something more that I can assist with?” she called after me as I left.
Mr. Jarvis had waited until I was ready to leave. Rupert was there as well, sitting expectantly on the floor of the coach. Not his usual demeanor. Then I saw the reason.
There was something with grey fur quite dead at his feet. He wagged his tail in greeting, obviously pleased with himself.
“I’ll get rid of that, miss,” Mr. Jarvis said as he stepped down from atop the coach.
He seized the poor creature and set off to dispense with it. The hound attempted to follow, but I called him back. He appeared quite put off.
I climbed into the coach.
“It serves you right,” I told him as he jumped in. “You have put on a few pounds.”
He lay on the floor with his head on his paws and refused to look at me.
Mr. Jarvis returned, then climbed atop the coach.
“Where will it be, miss?” he called down from his perch.
I eventually wanted to return to the office should there be some word from Brodie.
Yet, what I had discovered this same day at Sir Anthony’s residence, darkened, no one about, and that accumulation of letters over the past few weeks.
It could be that he simply chose to take up residence at his club after his brother’s death. Or...?
There was something quite odd about it.
In the very least, even under the circumstances, who allowed their mail to simply accumulate in a pile exposed to weather? With not even a housekeeper in residence to take care of such matters?
Brodie would have teased me. “Yer intuition, lass?”
Be that as it may, I had been right more often than not.
“The Metropolitan Police at Scotland Yard,” I replied to Mr. Jarvis.