UNFORTUNATELY, STARING AT THE WATER didn’t bring me any closer to figuring out who our killer was either. I finally gave up and started back to the room. At least I would be more comfortable thinking there. The whole affair was extremely frustrating. I had seen the murder, I’d figured out how it had been committed; it should have been simple enough to solve it, and yet with all that information at my disposal, I was no closer to having something to bring to Inspector Sanders than I had been when it happened. I doubted he would listen to a well-thought-out chain of events. He’d want a murderer he could charge, and that was the one piece of the puzzle I didn’t have.
“Miss Pengear? I thought that was you.”
I was so deep in my thoughts, I hadn’t had the presence of mind to avoid anyone in the lobby. I turned towards the voice and saw Miss Morrison coming out of the dining room. “Good afternoon. I trust you enjoyed your lunch?”
“I did, thank you, but were you just in the baths?” She sounded slightly horrified at the thought. I couldn’t blame her, considering.
“I was. I wanted to have a look around.”
“Oh my. I don’t think I could go back in there.”
“That’s probably why Mr. Fellcroft has them closed, as no one else would want to either. I was simply having a look.”
Miss Morrison looked ready to ask me something, but Miss Grangeway came out of the dining room at that moment. “I’m sorry to rush off, but if I have to hear once more about the shortcomings of Gretna Green...”
As I didn’t want to prolong the awkward conversation with Miss Morrison, I nodded. “You could slip out into the garden. The Bates sisters won’t say anything.”
“I think I will. Thank you for understanding.”
I waited until she’d slipped through to the lounge then tried to go back to considering the case. It was the connection we were still missing, to a guest or the hotel or the town or something. Some reason she’d suddenly decided to ask an acquaintance to come here with her.
“Excuse me, miss?”
One would think after running into Miss Morrison I’d have been more careful, but I’d already become too wrapped up in the case again to notice the new guest, a young man with a puzzled look on his face, standing at the front desk. I fervently hoped I wasn’t the one being addressed, but when I turned, the young man was looking directly at me. As I couldn’t very well pretend I hadn’t seen him when I was looking directly back at him, I said, “Yes?”
The young man took that as an invitation to join me, which I suppose it was. As he approached, I was able to see that he was indeed young, closer to Miss Morrison’s age than mine, blond, brown-eyed, fashionably dressed. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I am new here, Mr. Rivers, and I couldn’t help but notice you were speaking with Miss Morrison a moment ago.”
“That’s correct.”
“Then I hope you can help me. I’m looking for a friend she might be traveling with. My fiancée, actually. A Miss Caldwell.”
I bit my lip. This was the absolute worst part of investigating crimes. “Oh dear, they didn’t tell you?”
The man looked sidewise at me. “Tell me? They didn't tell me anything at the desk.”
“Then I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but Miss Caldwell has passed away.”
“What? How is that possible? What happened?” He was shocked, I could tell, but he didn’t seem upset enough to have been a close acquaintance either. I was beginning to wonder if Miss Caldwell had had any, or only the sort of surface friends brought about by proximity.
“She was drowned in the bathing pool at the hotel. I’m very sorry.” I spotted Milly waving to me from the other end of the lobby. At this distance, I couldn’t tell if she was trying to get my attention to rescue her from some unwanted suitor or if she was trying to get an introduction to Mr. Rivers. I pretended I hadn’t noticed her, which was difficult, as she was waving her arm in a manner which could have been mistaken for an effort at flying. “There’s an Inspector Sanders at the police station. He would be able to tell you more.”
“Thank you, I’ll try him. Could you direct me?”
As I was giving him directions to the police station, Milly came across the lobby. “Hello, Cassie. You must not have seen me wave.”
An introduction, then. “No, I was talking to Mr. Rivers. He was Miss Caldwell’s fiancé and hadn’t been told of the tragedy yet. Mr. Rivers, my cousin, Mildred Prynne.”
“Oh.” Even Milly was tactful enough not to flirt with the recently bereaved. “I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you. And thank you for telling me...”
I realized I hadn’t introduced myself. “Miss Pengear.”
“Thank you, Miss Pengear. I will see what Inspector Sanders has to say.”
We both smiled and nodded and watched him leave. When he’d gone, Milly turned back to me. “He was rather nice looking, don’t you think?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t really notice.”
“You never do. So, did you learn anything at the baths?”
I leaned against the empty end of the concierge desk and told her about the staff doors Mr. Langley had shown me. “So it would be possible for someone to slip into the baths and swim underwater if they were a strong swimmer, kill Miss Caldwell, and sneak away again. She was in a shadowy area, and the suits are so dark, it really wouldn’t be that hard. When Mr. Langley was searching for your earring, I was trying to watch him, and I had trouble finding him in the water even though I was following his movements.” I tapped my fingers against the desk. “So we know how it was done, but not why or by whom. If we could only find the connection between her and one of the guests. And I think it is one of the guests. Someone would have noticed someone out of the ordinary. Half the bathers noticed Mr. McSwain or Dr. Gaines, so it has to be someone they were expecting to see. Unless it was a staff member or servant. They slip around unnoticed all the time.” I leaned against the desk, trying to think about the staff. How would Miss Caldwell have known one of them? Or could someone have come in disguised as staff? I’d have to ask Mr. Langley how often the staff changed and if it were possible for someone to sneak in and pose as one of them.
It seemed Milly had already lost interest. “And when are they opening the baths again?”
“Oh, I thought you wanted to hear about the case.”
At least Milly managed to look slightly abashed at that.
“There wasn’t anything on the sign. I assume not until Miss Morrison leaves, at least. I saw her as she left the dining room, and she was a bit disturbed by the idea that I had been in the baths, and I didn’t even go into the water.”
“I suppose I could see when the baths in town have mixed bathing.” She shrugged. “But I suppose we should go through to lunch.”
I remembered Milly had seated herself uninvited at the gentlemen’s table the day before, so I quickly said, “I have too much to think about. I’m going to see if they’ll let me bring a sandwich upstairs.”
“Suit yourself.” Milly headed off towards the dining room without me.
After I’d given Milly enough time to get her own food and figure out where she was sitting, I slipped into the dining room and secured a couple of cheese sandwiches to take upstairs with me. As I snuck back out, I spotted Milly sitting with Miss Grangeway and her mother. That seemed a far better place for her than bothering the gentlemen—today it was only Mr. Douglas and Mr. Gibson reading their newspapers—or trying to find Mr. Rivers, which I wouldn’t put past her either. I took my sandwiches up to the room and sat at the desk, where I could let my mind wander around possible connections between Miss Caldwell and everyone else here without having to worry about being accosted by random people in the lobby.
Unfortunately, I had gotten no closer to an answer when the room door opened, and Milly came in saying. “Cassie, I’ve done it.”
I wasn’t sure if “it” was something I should be pleased or worried about. “What have you done?”
“Well, I was chatting with Mr. Waterhouse, the desk clerk.”
Flirting, more likely.
“And he happened to mention that his records were such a mess. Well, I told him he should have them typed up, then he wouldn’t have any trouble reading them. And it turns out they usually are typed out for him, but the man who does it is on holiday in Spain and hasn’t been able to do the latest batch. So I told him that you’re an excellent typist and not opposed to a little extra work, even on holiday.”
Occasionally Milly stumbled on a truly good idea. “And naturally I would have to see the records if I’m to type them up. And if there’s a connection, I should be able to see it. Milly, that was brilliant.”
“I know, wasn’t it? He said to come down anytime.”
“Then I’d better go before he changes his mind.”
~ * ~ * ~
Mr. Waterhouse proved to be the friendlier of the desk clerks, not the one who hadn’t wanted to tell us how to find the police station. When I introduced myself and explained why I was there, his face lit up, and he led me directly through to the office, which was small but well-appointed, with a very modern typewriter on the small table by the door.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Miss Pengear, although as I told Miss Prynne, any room service you order while I’m on duty will be complimentary. Mr. Carter usually does this sort of thing, and I have no idea where to begin. It was so much easier for him.”
I was tempted to point out that it was simply a matter of pressing the right keys and practice, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I glanced at the stack of cards he handed me, all with the guests’ names printed on them. “I think it would be best if I worked from the original reservations, to be certain I get all of the spellings correct.” There would be no point to the exercise at all if I didn’t get to see the originals.
“Of course, of course. What was I thinking? I’ll get them for you.”
While Mr. Waterhouse went to get the requested files, I got the typewriter set up and found the best chair in the room.
“Here we are, Miss Pengear. I think that’s all of them.” He put a stack of envelopes on the desk beside the typewriter. We spent a few moments discussing how he wanted me to set up his cards, and then he left me in peace.
As soon as I had the room to myself, I flipped through the envelopes until I found the one booking Miss Caldwell’s stay. It had not been written by her, which wasn’t a surprise. I noted down the name that had requested it, a rather generic “Mr. Harris” who seemed to be some sort of secretary, which seemed rather odd as I doubted she’d have a secretary of her own, and why would she use one of her father’s people if she didn’t want him to know about it? Unless she thought she could trust this Mr. Harris to keep his mouth shut. I turned the envelope over and looked at the return address. It listed a place in Pendleford, 7824 Oak Street, Box 684 specifically. I supposed Mr. Caldwell’s company could have offices there. It was something to check anyway. Otherwise, Mr. Harris was either her admirer or worked for him. Oddly enough, it was postmarked Leighwick, which was a village we’d passed by on the way here, but perhaps Mr. Harris had been sent to check the hotel’s suitability or something of that nature and posted the request on the way back. I turned back to the typewriter and started working.
It took less than an hour to make my way through the stack of reservations to be typed up. There hadn’t been much out of the ordinary. The Misses Bates had reserved their room three months before in a letter written by Miss Emmaline and sent from the post office in Bibury. The Fredricksons had done the same in a letter written two months before by Mrs. Fredrickson and posted from Birmingham. Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Gibson had both reserved by mechanical bird with no postmarks to be read. I couldn’t find a reservation for Mr. Douglas. The only connection I found to Miss Caldwell was to Mr. Mulgrove. His letter was also postmarked Leighwick and sent with a Pendleford return address, although from what appeared to be an office building, as it was listed as 7824 King Street #684. It was odd, but hardly conclusive. Still, it was the best I had, so I made a note of it before bringing the newly typed cards and the originals out to Mr. Waterhouse’s desk. I asked him for directions to the post office and accepted his offer of tea and Bath buns in our room, then went upstairs to tell Milly the outcome.
Milly was quite excited that her plan had produced results, and even more excited about the tea that was being sent up. She encouraged me to go at once to follow up on the lead, although I wasn’t completely certain if it was because she wanted to see how it turned out and take credit if she could or because she wanted all of the Bath buns. Either way, I quickly gave in to her pestering and went off to find the post office.
When I got to the post office I had been directed to, I realized at once that I was unlikely to find any help there. It was a large, impersonal city office, not the friendlier sort of office in a shop I’d been hoping for. But as I was there and Milly knew where I had gone and would ask about the results as soon as she remembered, I thought it at least worth trying.
The line inside was no longer than to be expected. I waited my turn and tried to find something to look at, but there were no interesting displays of postcards or stamps and all of the other patrons were clearly tourists on holiday. There were three clerks working, and I was hoping to get the youngest one who seemed new and eager to please. But when my turn came, I was directed to the clerk who seemed to be in charge of the other two.
“Parcel or letter?” he asked as soon as I approached the counter.
“I had a question about an address.”
“In or out of Bath?”
I felt a glimmer of hope. “Out.”
“And how have you styled the address?”
“It isn’t one I’ve written out. It’s two, actually. I’m trying to find out if there is a connection between them.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t part of our service. If you do not have something to post, please proceed along the counter. Thank you.” He motioned for the next person in line to approach his station.
I knew I wouldn’t get any answers there, so I proceeded along towards the exit. Perhaps I could ask someone else at the hotel if there was a small post office somewhere in town, run by someone who didn’t mind a bit of a chat. Mr. Langley might know.