A Letter of Mary - Laurie R. King [19]
"Enough, Russell. Everyone is allowed a weakness, even a woman of the twentieth century. You have no need to convince me that you are no squeamish and fainting female. Now, if you are quite finished laying your abject humility at my feet, perhaps you would be so good as to give me the details of your investigation. Then I think you may be interested in mine."
A thin haze of blue smoke filled the room by the time I finished. We sat for a few minutes, and then he stirred.
"That her papers were rifled is, of course, suggestive. I thought that might be the case. And I agree: It is most likely that the room was searched after she died. Had there been a chance of her returning to the room, they would have been more careful about returning the papers to their proper order. I think you might at some point have another look at her bag, to see if your memory of its contents on Wednesday differs from what remains in the hotel. Not immediately. Would you like a glass of wine, or some tea? No?" He rose and went over to the cabinet, rattled bottles, and added a swoosh from the old-fashioned gasogene to his glass, then came back and stretched his long legs out to the cold fireplace. "I, too, was not entirely unsuccessful. It did take me some time to uncover the restaurant, which was in an alleyway eight streets down. I walked past it twice. Fortunately, the maître d' had been on duty Wednesday night as well, and he remembered our lady. And the gentleman she dined with was a regular. Fellow by the name of Colonel Edwards, and the man even gave me the address, for a small consideration. The colonel and Miss Ruskin were at the restaurant for nearly three hours, and it was the waiter's impression that they were having a rather intense discussion that seemed to focus on some papers she had brought. He said that the colonel appeared to be very upset and even had to leave the room for a while, ostensibly to make a telephone call, but more, the waiter thought, to have a drink by himself and get back under control. Miss Ruskin, he said, was, if anything, amused rather than angry. Also, he told me that the colonel seemed unaware that his guest was to be a woman and that he was very taken aback when they first met. Incidentally, the man remembers that she had a large brown leather briefcase, which she took with her when she left. He even noted the brass letters DR on the top, because they were his initials, as well."
"So, whoever ran her down paused long enough to take her papers with them. Or rather, the beggar did, I suppose, rather than the driver. Those two witnesses must have been very drunk indeed." My own brain seemed sluggish, and my eyes felt hot and tired.
"Russell, I have a proposal to make." I eyed him through the smoke and the failing light. "I propose that you allow me to interview the colonel and whichever of our young couple I can lay my hands on, while you stay here, take a rest, and talk to Mycroft about it all when he comes in."
I began automatically to object, then reconsidered. Action for the sake of proving myself capable was at least as ridiculous as abject humility. It was a measure of my state of mind that I agreed to his proposal without much argument.
SEVEN
eta
Despite my intentions of using the time for careful introspection, I ended up inspecting no more than the backs of my eyelids. I woke at dusk from macabre dreams of leather briefcases and clouded blue eyes on a marble slab, to find myself on the bed in Mycroft's guest room, the sound of voices coming from the sitting room. I washed my face many times with cold and hot water, pushed the pins back into my hair, and went out to join my husband and his brother.
"Good evening, Russell. I hope you slept well."
"Not terribly. Hello, brother Mycroft. You're looking well."
"Good evening, Mary. A glass of sherry, or some tea?"
"It's late for tea, but I am thirsty. Do you mind?"
"Not at all." He rang the bell. "Sherlock was telling me about your