A Study in Murder (Victorian Book Club Mystery 1) - Page 67

The maid’s eyes grew wide. “Do you think so, m’lord? She’s not too fond of work breaks.”

“I think so. I will speak to her when she returns—do you know when she is expected?”

She shrugged. “Not too long, I would think. She was going to walk to the shops.” The girl glanced furtively at the body on the bed and shuddered.

“’Tis probably a good idea to send for the police and have your tea.” Amy placed her arm around the maid’s shoulders and moved her toward the door. They could hear the girl’s mumbling as she headed down the stairs.

William walked to the bed and leaned over Miss Hemphill’s body. He took a sniff and stepped back. Amy joined him. “What?”

“Take a whiff of her mouth and tell me if what I smell is correct.”

Amy leaned over and took in a deep breath. She turned to William, and they both said, “Pennyroyal.”

After scrounging around the room, they found a tattered blanket, which they used to cover the body. Then they went downstairs to await the police. As much as Amy hated to be here when the police arrived, she really had no choice. They would track her down anyway.

“With your logical, deductive mind, Amy, what do you make of the pennyroyal?” William rested his foot on his bent knee.

They sat in the drawing room right off the main entrance. The maid was nowhere in sight, so they had the room to themselves. “I’m thinking one of two things. Suicide or abortion.”

“Or perhaps both.” He smirked in her direction. “I don’t suppose I should be surprised that you even know about abortion and that pennyroyal has a reputation for being able to rid a woman of a baby.”

“Research.”

He nodded. “If it was suicide, then why not drown herself? I would think it less messy and not quite as painful. Although I imagine it’s not too easy to actually drown, unless you go deep and cannot swim.”

“Actually, it is not very difficult to drown oneself. When the body hits cold water, you automatically gasp; it’s a reflex, so when you fall in, you gasp and inhale water. The sudden coldness of the ingested water can also cause the throat to seize. Then, even if you can survive that part of it, the amount of clothing we wear would make it almost impossible to swim to the top, make it to the edge of the river or lake, and climb out onto a slippery embankment.”

William just stared at her. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “Research?”

“Just so.”

A loud banging on the front door had them both jumping up from their seats. The maid was still absent, so William opened the door.

Amy groaned as Detective Marsh and Detective Carson strolled into the room. “Well, well. Why am I not surprised that Lady Amy and Lord Wethington are keeping another dead body company?” Carson grinned at her as Detective Marsh flipped open his notepad.

Botheration. Were there no other detectives in the Bath police department?

“Where is the dead body this time?” Marsh’s snide remark had Amy fisting her hands, wanting to smack the smug look off his face.

“This time, the body is upstairs in Miss Hemphill’s room.” She raised her chin. “I will be happy to accompany you.”

They all trooped upstairs. Amy and William stepped back and allowed the detectives to precede them. “We need more light,” Detective Marsh grumbled.

“I will see if I can find the maid who let us in. We were only able to find two candle stubs.”

“Not to be doing any investigation, correct?” Carson growled in her direction.

Amy sniffed. “Of course not.” She glanced at William before hurrying downstairs. Just as she reached the entrance, an older woman opened the front door and stepped inside. She was plump of body and her face was flushed. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw Amy. “Who are you? Where’s Sally?”

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I assume you are Mrs. Hubbard?” When the woman nodded, Amy continued, “I am Lady Amy Lovell, and is Sally the maid who answered the door?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Hubbard set down the basket she carried, spilling over with goods, and began to unbutton her coat. “Now why are you in my house?”

“My friend, Lord Wethington”—it never hurt to toss out a title—“and I came to call on Miss Hemphill, who I am afraid has met with …” Amy struggled with how to say what they’d found. Or how to tell the woman that the police were upstairs and her maid was probably taking a much needed, but probably unauthorized, tea break.

?

?With what?”

Tags: Callie Hutton Victorian Book Club Mystery Mystery
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