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AT THE END OF THEIR stroll, Cora returned upstairs. Lionel’s and Rollo’s apartment was quiet. Perhaps Lionel had decided to visit a club or attend a student gathering rather than risk Randolph’s scolding again.
Randolph could be intimidating.
Normally, Cora considered sleep a thing to look forward to, but a prickle of uncertainty still ran through her as she approached her door. Her hands shook, and it took several tries to enter correctly. Finally, she did so.
She blinked into the dark light.
There were no signs of any intrusions, either of the dead, or, like her father, of the still living.
Thank goodness.
Cora made herself a cup of tea and settled onto her small settee with a book. Archibald curled at her feet and soon slept.
It was very still.
Cora shivered.
She wouldn’t mind if she did hear...something.
The rain had perhaps scared some passers-by, and the streets outside were quieter than the night before.
All of a sudden she heard a sound from the window.
She trembled.
Someone was coming in. Someone was truly coming in.
Her heart leaped and sputtered.
Archibald snored softly, and she hesitated to wake him.
I’m probably being foolish.
The thought should have comforted her. She’d been called foolish before, but usually when somebody was saying she was too nice or not sufficiently besotted at the delights of parties.
Where’s that frying pan?
Cora rose and headed toward the kitchen. The nice thing about small apartments was she did not have far to go. Unfortunately, the sound outside her window had shifted. It had become louder.
Much louder.
Someone’s entering.
Cora grabbed the frying pan, wishing she’d had the presence to grab Archibald and flee with him outside the house when she’d first felt uneasy.
She’d never despised her occasional proclivity toward optimism more.
Golly.
A hand appeared at the window, followed by a shoulder and then more of a man’s back.
She frowned.
The outline should have been intimidating.
The shoulder and back seemed strong, and the hand was hardly flimsy.
And yet...
She swallowed hard.
Randolph?
In the next moment he’d opened the window and was peering inside. His eyes drifted to her frying pan, and he grinned. “I like a gal with a sense of protection.”
“Randolph!” she exclaimed, shoving the frying pan back onto the tiny kitchen counter. It made a loud clatter, and she cringed, hoping Miss Greensbody would not come barging up.
She rushed toward him. “You shouldn’t be here!”
“No,” he said casually, as he extended a long leg into the room and then entered the room, more gracefully than should have been possible. “This window is not secure.”
“There’s a lock on it.”
“But I managed to open it with some strategic wiggling from the outside.”
“But someone could have you seen you. They might be calling the police now!”
His lips quirked up. “Do you hear sirens?”
A dull feeling settled in Cora’s stomach, and she shook her head.
“I don’t either.” Randolph shut the window.
“Well, they’ll come later,” Cora insisted.
Randolph settled onto the settee, the one seat in the room. “You are adorable.”
Cora sat gingerly on the bed.
“You mustn’t look so frightened,” Randolph said. “I promise I won’t ravage you.” His eyes sparkled. “Though the action would be delightful.”
Were his eyebrows waggling? Cora looked at her lap, conscious of heat attacking her cheeks.
Cora felt awkward and naïve. Veronica would have known just what to do with him.
“It’s ok,” Randolph said, more seriously. “I know you’re an innocent.”
She stiffened.
“It’s written all over your face. It’s always been written all over your face.” He smiled. “I think it’s cute.” He shrugged. “And admirable.”
Her mouth dried, and she shifted her legs over the bare floorboards.
“I didn’t come into your bedroom to do anything untoward,” he said. “I was worried about your safety. Quite rightly, it seems.”
Cora turned her head toward the street.
There were no sirens.
No footsteps and people shouting.
No constables banging on the door.
“There are so many people outside,” she said. “Not as many as during the day, but it’s still crowded. You must have been seen.”
“And everyone is too polite to do something,” Randolph said. “Besides, just because I snuck in through the window does not make me evil. After all, I might have forgotten my key. I also might be visiting my sweetheart, whose landlord doesn’t allow late night visitors. I’m not necessarily a robber or murderer.”
Cora inhaled.
He was right.
Of course.
Cora suddenly felt very alone. Randolph was here now, but soon he would go. If something happened to her, like something had happened to the previous person in this room, would anyone know? Would they hear her scream? Would they ignore it?
She drew her legs up. It wasn’t the most ladylike position, and Randolph’s eyes softened.
“It will be fine,” he promised. “Just let me fix the window.”
“Do you think the body was removed from the window?” The thought seemed absurd, and she flushed.
“That’s a good question,” Randolph said. “There may be another way into the room.”
He looked around, surveying every corner with an unusual intensity. “This is quite a nice room.”
“Thank you,” Cora said, surprised.
“Mm...hmm... I wonder if it used to be larger.”
“Larger?”
“Perhaps this building was divided into multiple apartments later. Your kitchen, for instance, hasn’t been here for long.” He glanced out the window. Lights from buildings from the other side of the square sparkled in the distance. “This would have made an excellent dining room once.”
“Oh.” Cora blinked, and a thought occurred to her. “I see. You think there might be a dumbwaiter here?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
Cora had never seen a dumbwaiter before, but she’d heard about them. Apparently some houses possessed them so servants might transfer food easily from the kitchen downstairs to the dining room.
“Let’s check behind the paintings.” Cora scrambled toward a reproduced landscape.
Only floral wallpaper was behind it, and Cora sighed. She turned, surveying the room. “Perhaps there’s something behind the mirror?”
“Right. I’m on it.” Randolph rushed to the mirror and lifted it up.
This time, there was no floral wallpaper.
“Bingo,” Randolph said gleefully. He ran his fingers over a smooth surface. There was a small latch, and he pulled it open.
“Oh.”
It was a simple hole in the wall that tunneled downward. Some ropes dangled on either side.
Randolph grabbed hold of the ropes and pulled on them. Creaking sounded, and then a tray appeared.
Cora blinked. “Amazing.”
“Do you think he could have fit inside?” Randolph asked.
“Yes,” Cora said, in awe. “Though it would have been tight. And he would have risked it falling completely. I’m not sure what the weight limit for this is.”
“If he was dead, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Randolph remarked wryly.
“Oh.”
“But who would have hidden him?” Cora asked.
“The murderer,” Randolph said. “He must have been interrupted. He must have killed the guy, thought the room was a good hiding place because it was empty, and then panicked when he heard you and Veronica speaking with the constable.”
Excitement rushed through Cora. “Lionel and Rollo were very surprised when we came to their flat to call the police.”
“And Lionel did not seem overly friendly,” Randolph said.
Cora shivered.
“Don’t worry,” Randolph said quickly. “I may have mentioned you were important to me. And that I’ve been trained in various martial arts.” He wiggled his eyebrows again.
Cora settled back onto the bed.
“So you think Lionel killed him?” she asked.
“He’s the landlord.”
“Landlady’s son,” Cora corrected.
Randolph shrugged. “He would have known about the dumbwaiter.”
Cora laughed. “He really did not make a good impression on you.”
“Anyone who insults you makes it impossible to give me a good impression,” Randolph said.
“He has no motive,” Cora said.
“Drug deal gone wrong?” Randolph asked. “Or perhaps they were both interested in the same girl.”
“You’re just making up possibilities.”
“They could all have happened,” Randolph said more seriously, and Cora nodded.
He was right.
They all were possible.
“There’s no proof of anything,” Cora said. “There’s no blood on that dumbwaiter or anything that would tie him here. The poor man was poisoned.”
Randolph was silent. He couldn’t deny the lack of evidence.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave now?” Randolph asked.
Cora shook her head.
It was tempting. But she’d paid her rent in advance. This was a fine apartment. She’d been lucky to find one in such a lovely area that accepted dogs.
Was it truly so dangerous?
The murderer might know Cora had seen a body, but the body had been removed. There had been no picture of the man in the papers, perhaps as a concession to the squeamish, and perhaps because they didn’t know his identity yet. Cora had already told her concerns to the constable. Would the murderer risk more attention to kill Cora? Veronica had also seen the body. Was she also in danger?
Cora shivered.
“Just fix the window,” Cora said. “And—er—make certain the lock on the door works.”
“Very well.” Randolph set to work. He then climbed from the window, and Cora secured it in the manner he suggested.
Her heart still beat uncomfortably, and she resisted the urge to run after him.
This was her home.
This was her dream.
She wasn’t going to allow anyone to talk her out of staying in it.