The Body in Bloomsbury Page 15

  Australia was a large country.

  It would be easy to lose oneself in Australia. People spoke English, and Bess would be able to easily make a new life, given her new, stolen fortune. It was a good plan.

  “You can’t go,” Cora said.

  Bess raised her eyebrows, and her lips curled. “You recommend California? Is there a rivalry between the United States and Australia of which I am unaware?”

  “What? Nonsense.” Cora shook her head rapidly.

  The others looked at her strangely.

  Bess rose. “My train to Portsmouth leaves this afternoon.”

  “That is very fast,” Rollo said. “Won’t you miss it here? Won’t you miss...us?”

  Bess shrugged. “Of course. But I’ll manage. I’m adaptable.”

  “You can’t go,” Cora said suddenly. “I-I won’t let you.” She turned to the others. “We won’t let you.”

  Bess arched her eyebrows. “I thought we were going to be friends.”

  “At the time I didn’t think you were a murderess,” Cora said.

  Bess widened her eyes. “Pardon?”

  The room was suddenly very quiet, and Cora’s heartbeat quickened.

  She hadn’t been supposed to say that. She’d been supposed to search Bess’s apartment while Veronica took Archibald out.

  But Bess was leaving now, and she had to stop her. Cora wasn’t alone. She was with her other neighbors.

  It will be fine.

  Bess’s shocked face told her it wasn’t fine. Cora had wanted so badly to live a normal life, but she was only accusing her new neighbors of murder. Bess looked like she might bolt.

  “Sit down,” Cora said.

  Bess didn’t sit.

  “Sit down now,” Cora said, keeping her voice stern.

  Bess settled back into her chair and tossed her hair. “Well. This will be amusing. What makes you think I would murder anybody?”

  “Yes, Bess wouldn’t do that,” Rollo said quickly. “The idea is absurd. Utterly.”

  “You were running out of funds,” Cora said. “London is expensive.”

  “Everyone knows that.” Bess gave a slight laugh. “Hardly novel.”

  “But it was to you,” Cora said. “You don’t come from a poor family.”

  Bess shrank back.

  “Your parents are wealthy. They wanted you to study at university. Only things didn’t go well, did they? You discovered Mr. Tehrani was bringing priceless jewels to London and decided to befriend him to steal him.”

  “That’s absolute nonsense,” Bess said stiffly. “I would never do such a thing.”

  “You’ve stolen before.”

  “My dear woman.” Miss Greensbody widened her eyes. “You’re a thief? You killed that poor man?”

  “No,” Bess exclaimed. “It wasn’t like that. Not at all. The watch... The woman didn’t even notice it was missing. It obviously wasn’t important to her. It was silly. A moment’s indiscretion. They shouldn’t have let me go. I’d never stolen before, and I was good at my job.”

  “Unlike university,” Cora said.

  “I just wasn’t suited for school.”

  “You failed your courses,” Cora said.

  “You shouldn’t speak to her like that,” Rollo said. “One of the rules of friendship is not to accuse your friend of murder.”

  “My grades didn’t matter. I could always return to the Cotswolds.”

  Cora drew back. Bess was correct.

  “I agree,” Cora said finally.

  Bess blinked. “You agree?”

  “Yes,” Cora said curtly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way always, but you’re right, you were not in desperate straits.”

  “I’m glad that’s settled,” Bess said.

  There was an awkward silence.

  Something still felt wrong, and it wasn’t only the fact Cora had broken societal expectations by accusing someone of murder.

  Perhaps Bess could always have returned to Cotswolds, but could she have gone to Australia if she was without funds? Most parents didn’t want their children to sail thousands of miles away. Even the passageway would have been expensive.

  Bess had stated her finances had improved recently. Rollo was continuing to stare at Bess in wonder, and something cold clutched Cora’s heart.

  Rollo’s obvious fondness of Bess was charming, but could it have driven him too far? What if Bess hadn’t stolen the jewels? What if someone else had stolen the jewels?

  “Mr. Tehrani was poisoned,” Cora said.

  Miss Greensbody put her fork down, and it clinked against her plate. “My appetite is gone.”

  Lionel reached over and switched their plates. “Mine isn’t. This is fascinating. Much more amusing than most teas.”

  “You can take my tea too,” Miss Greensbody said.

  Cora turned to address Lionel. “You must have learned about poisons at university.”

  Lionel flashed her a smile. “I learned about many things.”

  “I’m interested in the poisons,” Cora said.

  “Eccentric American,” Lionel muttered.

  “Do you have textbooks on them?”

  Lionel raised his eyebrows. “I do, but I have no urge to sift through them.”

  “I imagine your cousin already did,” Cora remarked.

  “I have no interest in doing medicine. Too much blood,” Rollo gave a slight laugh. “Not my style.”

  “Poison is more your style,” Cora said.

  “Nonsense,” Rollo said, and gave another laugh.

  It sounded hollow, and even Bess turned to peer at him, perhaps sensing something was off.

  “You killed him,” Cora said, turning to Rollo.

  Rollo widened his eyes. “Me? Don’t be outrageous.” His voice squeaked somewhat comically, and Cora fought the urge to join in.

  He was right. It was outrageous. Rollo was slight of build and had a consistently jovial demeanor. Unlike Lionel and Miss Greensbody, and unlike perhaps even Bess, he didn’t seem given to the occasional outburst of improper anger.

  Aggressive was not a word she would have associated with him, and murderer seemed that much more ridiculous.

  And yet it had been so. Facts did not lie, no matter how much Cora would have liked them to.

  “You’ve always loved Bess,” Cora said gently.

  “Me? We’re friends.” Rollo laughed, but it came out too forced.

  Had Cora been in a studio and laughed similarly, the director would have demanded a new take. Rollo could not ask for a new take.

  He seemed to know it.

  His shoulders drooped downward.

  “I thought I recognized Miss Greensbody’s apron. There was a maid in Mr. Tehrani’s room at The Savoy. A maid who was wearing a different uniform than the other maids there. A maid whose apron had the same ruffles that Miss Greenbody’s apron has. You were probably searching Mr. Tehrani’s room to make sure nothing incriminated you. You had access to Miss Greensbody’s apartment. Your cousin must have a key to her room. You could have easily taken it to get information on the upcoming exhibit and to borrow clothes.”

  “You dressed up like a girl?” Lionel asked.

  Rollo’s face reddened. “I—”

  “Actually, don’t say anything,” Lionel said suddenly. “I’ll get you a lawyer. I swear. You’re my little cousin. You’re not going anywhere.” His voice trembled, and Cora felt a sharp pang of almost regret.

  In the Gal Detective movies, she’d always seen the role of detective as heroic. In fact, she was quite certain all the audience saw the role as heroic. That’s why it amused them to see a young girl solve the crimes. The films were termed heartwarming.

  But Cora was quite certain she was doing nothing that could be termed heroic now.

  She was ruining Rollo’s life.

  He would be locked up.

  He would be hanged.

  Lionel looked at her accusatorily. “You don’t know anything. You’re new here.”

  �
�I know he killed someone,” Cora said.

  “Because he loved Bess. He adored her. Love is supposed to be a good thing.”

  “Please.” Rollo coughed and looked awkwardly in Bess’s direction.

  “So you killed a suitor?” Miss Greensbody asked. “Before you broke into my apartment? You must have terrified Princess Petunia.”

  Rollo had the decency to blush. It was unfortunate he’d not had the decency to not commit murder.

  “Why did you do it?” Bess asked, focusing on Rollo. “You’re the nice one.”

  Rollo swallowed hard, and his eyes appeared redder than before. “I’m sorry, Bess. I didn’t want to drag you into this.”

  “I think you did,” Bess said, but her voice was not accusatory, and it was easy for Cora to imagine that if things had been different, if Rollo had never murdered Mr. Tehrani, that Bess and Rollo may have one day got together.

  Rollo didn’t have the wealth Bess listed as a requirement in a man, but they had had a mutual respect. Perhaps if Rollo had simply adored her, and not killed for her, perhaps then they could have had a real relationship.

  “I knew about the watch,” Rollo said.

  Bess turned red. “I didn’t want anyone to know about that.”

  “I know,” he said gently. “That’s why you didn’t tell us you were fired.”

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “I brought you lunch,” he said. “I thought we might have some tea and scones and I thought I might tell you—” His voice wobbled, and he looked away.

  “He was going to do the grand gesture,” Lionel said. “He even had flowers.”

  “Pink roses,” Rollo said.

  “My favorite,” Bess breathed.

  “When I didn’t see you at the glove counter I asked Mrs. Abraham about you,” Rollo said.

  “Oh.” Bess’s face whitened. “She probably wasn’t very happy.”

  “She didn’t like that you had stolen. Why did you? Wait, it doesn’t matter. Not at all.” The stars that seemed to be in Rollo’s eyes whenever he spoke with Bess or about Bess were in full force now, even though he was about to be arrested.

  Cora’s stomach hurt, and when she looked at Lionel, pain was clearly etched in his eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have stolen,” Bess said. “It was a sin. I-I know. It was just so beautiful, and the woman didn’t even notice she’d forgotten it. I laid it out for her, but when she didn’t come back...” Bess’s voice wobbled. “I could have done so much with the money.”

  “I thought it was something like that,” Rollo said soothingly.

  It occurred to Cora that no one would be better at quieting one’s guilt over questionable actions than a murderer.

  “I thought you would be sad,” Rollo said. “I-I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

  “Bess’s father died in the spring,” Lionel said.

  “Oh.” Cora blinked.

  “I was sad then,” Bess said, her voice wobbling again. She rose abruptly. “I should call the police.”

  “Good idea,” Cora said.

  Soon she heard the familiar sound of a phone being dialed from the next apartment and she heard Bess’s low voice.

  “How did you kill him?” Lionel asked.

  “It was easy,” Rollo frowned. “You had all your medicine books. I just looked up the poison section.”

  “I abhorred that class,” Lionel said.

  “I know,” Rollo said. “You used to complain about it. That’s how I knew your books would mention it.”

  “I should have gotten rid of that book,” Lionel said.

  Rollo shrugged. “It was actually perfectly understandable. I don’t know why you didn’t do well in that class.”

  Lionel flushed and he stiffened somewhat. “For the record, I passed that course. Just not quite as well as I could have. I prefer other fields of medicine.”

  “Well, I just had to decide which poison I could make the most easily, and then that’s what I gave him. I mixed it with a sleeping draught.” He shrugged. “I gave Lionel some sleeping draught too. Without the poison.”

  “That’s why he seemed hungover,” Cora said.

  Rollo nodded. “Yes.”

  “How did you get him in my room?” Cora asked, though she could already guess how he’d accomplished that.

  “I told him Miss Greensbody could meet him there,” Rollo said. “He’d never visited before. I wrote him a letter.”

  “This is outrageous,” Miss Greensbody said.

  Bess sat down again, her face pale and her hands trembling.

  “You should stop talking,” Lionel said.

  “I want Bess to know. She deserves to know everything.” Rollo turned to her. “I didn’t kill him because I thought he was your suitor. If I’d known that...” He broke off. “Well, I would always want you to be happy. Miss Greensbody told me about the jewels too. I thought if you needed money, I could get it for you. And I did.” He beamed.

  “There’s money in my bank account,” Bess said slowly.

  “You sold them?” Miss Greensbody crossed her arms. “You can’t sell them. They’re priceless!”

  “The jeweler seemed happy with them.”

  “Which shop?” Miss Greensbody said. “Which shop did you sell them to?”

  “Van de Berg on Bond Street.

  “I’m leaving,” Miss Greensbody said. “I have to get there at once. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!”

  Miss Greensbody left abruptly and her footsteps sounded as she headed down the stairs.

  Rollo had loved Bess.

  And he’d killed for her.

  He had poisoned someone’s tea. Had Mr. Tehrani known he was about to die? Had he spent his last hours besieged by bad dreams? Terrifying nightmares that he could never awaken from?

  Poison might seem clean, but its absence of blood was replaced by a brutal internal invasion of the body.

  Rollo should have no sense of accomplishment for having murdered someone. He should not be allowed to gaze from his prison and think romantically that he had still accomplished something magnificent.

  He should regret his sins.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Lionel said.

  “No one was supposed to find out,” Rollo said miserably. “How on earth did that girl find out? She’s just a detective on the silver screen.”

  “Must have played a good one,” Lionel said, with a note of admiration that made Cora smile despite herself.

  She turned to Bess. “When did the police constable say they were coming?”

  Bess took a sip of water and then gazed up. The door closed as Miss Greensbody left the house, and Cora had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “They didn’t say anything,” Bess said sweetly.

  “Bess?” Rollo widened his eyes.

  “You did the most romantic thing in the world for me. You were going to make me rich. I-I underestimated you.”

  “You didn’t,” Rollo said. “You heard Cora. I belong behind bars. I’m going there soon. You’ll see.”

  “No.” Bess shook her head defiantly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  The strange feeling in Cora’s stomach grew stronger, and she shifted in the seat.

  Rollo had killed Mr. Tehrani.

  No one else.

  But now Bess wasn’t meeting her eyes, and there was a strange new energy in the room.

  “I didn’t call the police constable,” Bess said again. “I just said I did. I’m not an idiot. I know why Cora wanted me to call them, and I disagree.”

  “You disagree that murder should be punished?” Cora sputtered.

  “He loves me,” Bess said, and awe filled her voice.

  “But someone died,” Cora said. “Someone you knew even. Someone you liked.”

  She shrugged. “Nothing will bring back Mr. Tehrani now. Besides, the man was never going to marry me.”

  “You want me to run away?” Rollo asked. “Do y-you want to come with me?”


  Bess nodded shyly. “That would be nice.”

  Rollo beamed.

  It was a genuine beam. An utter smile. The kind that would make a director shout cut and grin with happiness when an actor made one on cue.

  Bess echoed Rollo’s smile. She pressed her hand against his. “I should have noticed you a long time ago.”

  “This is outrageous,” Cora said finally. “Bess, he’s dangerous.”

  “I’ve never found Rollo dangerous.” Bess ruffled his hair. “He’s always been a good friend.”

  “I’m sorry I was blind,” she said more seriously to Rollo.

  “You’re acting blind now!” Cora sputtered, and Bess sent her a sharp look, and Cora quickly regretted saying anything.

  Cora was alone with a killer, his best friend and the woman he loved, and who it seemed was now more than amicable to him.

  She’d thought she was surrounded by friends.

  She’d thought she was safe to accuse him here.

  She thought everyone understood that murder was evil, that it surpassed any other misdeeds in dreadfulness.

  And yet...

  She’d been wrong.

  Not everyone did think that. Some people could overlook murder, especially when it occurred to somebody who was not own of their own.

  Bess was squeezing Rollo’s hand and staring at him in awe, and Lionel was looking everywhere but at Cora.

  I’m not safe.

  The thought came to her suddenly.

  Fear prickled her spine, and her heart felt suddenly heavy in her chest. It seemed to flay wildly against her ribs, as if looking for a way out. As if knowing that it should escape, if she could not. As if knowing that if everyone supported Rollo, then they could not support her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  No one knows.

  She wasn’t in some strange location where she might be rescued. She was exactly where she should be, in her home. She was in her apartment, near the pictures that she had selected, and the pillows and bedding that she had chosen.

  Lionel stood up first.

  It will be fine.

  She tried to tell herself that. Lionel was responsible, in his own way, after all. He was a medical student. Evidently, he must care somewhat about life. He was taking years of courses all focused on preserving life, and he’d told everyone what a sacrifice it was for him to take the time to study it.