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I was ushered once again into the same jail cell. The officer on duty appeared a bit embarrassed and offered me an extra pillow and blanket, which I gratefully accepted. North had also allowed me to bring a book to entertain myself, though I was far too keyed up to actually read. It was more a power play on my part. I wanted to let him know he didn’t frighten me one whit.
Granted, the thought of sitting in jail wasn’t a comfortable one. I’d been hoping I could find the real killer before this happened. Instead, the killer had struck again and in such a way as to make me look guilty. Rather clever that.
There was no doubt in my mind that Derby Jones was, indeed, the killer. Who else would murder poor Harry? I could think of no other reason he would be murdered unless his death was connected with Dottie’s.
Indeed, our other suspects—Archie and Kitty—were in no way connected with the club that I could see and had no reason to kill Harry. The only way I could see that Harry and Dottie were connected was through the club and one Derby Jones.
It was sometime after lunch—vile fish paste sandwiches and lukewarm weak tea—when the door to the jail opened and Aunt Butty came sailing in. She wore a pale pink gown with far too many ribbons and ruffles and an enormous pink hat that barely fit through the doorway.
“There you are, Ophelia.” Her footsteps clacked against the stone floor. “I told North he was being ridiculous. He didn’t take it well.”
“No, I imagine he didn’t,” I said dryly as she paused in front of my cell. “How is Chaz?”
“Fine, the dear boy, though quite in a rage over you being arrested. He told North he was with you when you spoke to Harry, but North refused to arrest him as he had an alibi for the time of death.”
“I’m surprised North didn’t throw him in jail for being an accessory.”
“He threatened it, but he has no proof. I really detest that smug little man,” Aunt Butty said.
She and I were of one mind there. “Have you spoken to Louise?”
“Yes, and Varant. I’m afraid there’s no getting you out this time.”
I sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“I won’t stop trying,” she assured me. “In the meantime, I brought you a basket of goodies which the on-duty sergeant said he has to search. Both our gazes went to the sergeant who started guiltily. “I assured him I know exactly what is in that basket, and none of it had better be missing when it comes to you.”
“I’m sure he’ll make sure I get the basket intact,” I said, trying to play the politician.
“What should I do, Ophelia?” Aunt Butty asked, suddenly looking worried.
The fact Aunt Butty was worried made my stomach a bit queasy, but I stiffened my spine. All was not lost just yet. “Talk to Chaz. Maybe between the two of you, you can figure out a clue to help prove my innocence.”
She nodded. “Already on it. We’re having a confab at my flat this afternoon. Tea, cakes, and investigations. We should start our own club.” She brightened. “Actually, it’s a marvelous idea.”
“Yes. Grand. While you’re at it, tell Chaz I’m certain Derby Jones is the killer.” I quickly explained my reasoning.
She nodded, her massive hat wobbling dangerously. Her poor hatpins were getting quite the workout. “Makes absolute sense. I’ll have a word with the boy. And what about Hale?”
“Let him know what happened, and tell him about Jones and Dottie. Maybe he’ll have some ideas.” I wished like anything I could see Hale just then. He’d a way of making me feel better about things.
Just then, the sergeant cleared his throat, indicating our time was up.
“Chin up, Ophelia. What doesn’t kill us!” And with that, Aunt Butty sailed from the room, and I was left alone to ponder my current situation.
The sergeant appeared with my basket of goodies. “Cheer up, milady. Things can only get better.”
I snorted as I accepted the basket. “I’ll cheer up when I prove my innocence and rub North’s face in it.”
He grinned as if the thought cheered him no end. “There’s the spirit!”
If only I felt so confident.
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THE NIGHT PASSED WITH intolerable slowness. The cot was hard, the blanket thin, and the cell cold. Around midnight, they brought in a drunk who proceeded to spend the rest of the wee morning hours singing rather bawdy drinking songs. What was with this place and singing drunkards?
“Would you please be quiet,” I shouted at last. “Some people are trying to sleep.”
To which he began shouting out “Brother John” quite loudly and off key. There was nothing left to do but join him. At least until the guard arrived and shouted at us both to shut up. After that, the drunk mumbled softly to himself.
He finally fell asleep around four in the morning. I knew because the snoring was loud enough to rattle the bars.
At last I gave up on getting any sleep and instead paced the cell, trying to keep warm. I’d give anything for a highball right about then. Or better yet, a hot toddy, heavy on the whiskey. This being arrested for murder nonsense was getting old.
By seven, the sun was streaming through the narrow window set high in the stone wall. It was a welcome sight, as my stomach had been rumbling for half an hour. Surely breakfast was nigh.
At eight, the morning on-duty sergeant appeared with a covered tray. I sniffed the aroma of bacon and tea appreciatively.
I ate to the dulcet tones of snoring. The bacon was under cooked and greasy, the toast a bit scorched, the eggs rubbery, and the tea weak. I skipped the milk as it smelled a bit off. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, so I ate everything with relish.
Feeling more the thing, I fixed my hair best I could and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of my dress. At least North had let me put clothes on and not marched me to the station in my night things. Although I might have been more comfortable if he had.
It was nine on the dot when the sergeant reappeared, shoving his key in the lock of my cell and turning it with the grate of metal-on-metal. He swung open the door.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“North is letting you go,” he said.
I squinted suspiciously. “Why? Where is North?”
“He ain’t here, Mrs. Rample. Er, I mean milady.” He flushed, though I’m not sure his embarrassment was from improperly addressing me or having to tell me North wasn’t available.
I gave him a cool look. “Why am I being released?”
“No idea. I was told to let you out, so I’m letting you out.”
“Very good.” I stepped out of the cell with something like relief and followed him away from the snoring.
I hadn’t brought anything with me save the clothes on my back and my book, so he led me straight to the front desk. There in the lobby sat Aunt Butty dressed dramatically in a black gown and matching hat, all trimmed in purple. Even the feathers on the hat were purple, the massive plumes waving wildly every time someone pushed through the front doors.
“Ophelia!” She jumped to her feet and rushed to mash me against her bosom.
I hugged her back a moment before setting her a bit away from me. Mostly so I could breathe. “Why did North let me out?”
“I’m unsure. I got a call this morning to come collect you. That’s all I know.”
I frowned. “The sergeant didn’t know either.” The idea that no one seemed to know why I’d been set loose on the populace concerned me. After all, I was supposed to be a dastardly murderer. “Something has happened, I’ll bet.”
Aunt Butty blinked. “What do you think it is?”
“No idea. If only North were here.” I sighed. “I’ll tell you what, though. We should visit the morgue.”
“The morgue?” She repressed a shiver. “Why ever for? You do know the morgue is full of dead bodies, don’t you?”
“The morgue also contains the medical examiner. I want to know what he knows about the murders of Dottie and Harry.”
“Very well,” Aunt Butty said. “We shall visit the morgue, but none of those bodies better move.”
I was in full agreement with her on that point.