City of Bells (23 page)

             
“Is the curry just for the servants?” Emma had asked Davy and the question had trickled to and fro through all the various speakers until the somewhat surprising answer returned.  No, Secretary-General Anthony Weaver, unlike his wife, was a devotee of native cooking, and liked curries as well.

             
“What sort of medication did Mrs. Weaver take?”  Geraldine asked and once again everyone in the circle had to participate before the answer returned.   Neither the cook nor the maid knew the name of the drug.  All that fell under the domain of the nurse.

             
“Nurse?” Geraldine had said sharply, turning directly to Miss Hoffman.  “You told us she was quite untrained and hired only to listen to Rose’s complaints, a thankless function which I too have served in my day.  But am I to take it that Adelaide also was responsible for monitoring Rose’s medication?”

             
“Monitoring medication is a rather grand term,” Miss Hoffman replied, with only the slightest flush of discomfort.  “But Adelaide can certainly manage to take spoon out a powder from a bottle and place it in a cup.”

             
“So could a maid or a cook,” Geraldine said. 

             
“As I believe I adequately explained this morning,” Miss Hoffman said evenly, “the households of the Raj are often built more on ceremony than practicality.  Of course any one could place the medication on the tray.  It is even possible that Mrs. Weaver, horror of all horrors, might open her own bottle and spoon out her own powder.  But I believe a couple like the Weavers who sit, stand, and lie on ceremony, would prefer the notion that the household nurse, no matter how badly trained she might be, performed this task.”

             
“We need to talk to Adelaide,” Davy said.  “Where is she?”

             
Miss Hoffman pretended to look about.  “I cannot say.”

             
“No one ever seems to quite know where Adelaide is,” Emma said.  “She did not return for luncheon or even for tea?”

             
“Adelaide is a mercurial creature,” Miss Hoffman answered, “and I place no restraints on her.  But I assure you this afternoon, just as I tried to assure you this morning, talking to her will not yield the bounty of information that you seem to expect.  Adelaide’s limitations, her….profound disinterest in the events of the world around her….they all assure that, even though she may have been the one to put the medicine in the cup and then on the tray, she knew nothing about what sort of medication it was or even when Mrs. Weaver would ultimately swallow the draught.  The preparation was simply one of her routine tasks.”

             
“Adelaide has returned to the Weaver household at least twice,” Davy said.  “I know, for I have seen her there twice myself.”

             
“Do not waste too much time reading anything into that, Detective,” Miss Hoffman said with an airy wave of her hand.  “Are you even a Detective?  You seem so young.  But to answer your question, I am not sure Adelaide fully grasps that the household has changed and her services are no longer needed.”

             
“I am an officer and not a detective,” Davy said evenly.  “Might Adelaide feel compelled to return to that she might feed a pet bird?”

             
A small hesitation on the part of Miss Hoffman.  “She might.  Now, is there anything else you would like to ask these good women, or might we all return to the responsibilities of our day?”

             
It was an earnest attempt to change the subject, but it did not work.

             
“Might you send one of your students to look for Adelaide now?” Davy said, carrying on precisely as if the woman had not spoken.  “I would like to ask her some questions regarding Mrs. Weaver’s medication and she must be fingerprinted as well.”

             
“No, I shall not,” said Miss Hoffman.  “I can hardly unleash a group of young girls on the harsh streets of Bombay in a pointless search for a woman who is both frightened and skilled at hiding.  In fact, Adelaide has the ability to make herself all but invisible when she wishes. It is an almost animalistic skill, one I sometimes envy.  I assure you that Adelaide will resurface only when she is ready, and not a moment before.”

             
“So you see her rather like a dog,” Emma said.  “She will come along home when she gets hungry, is that your point?”

             
Miss Hoffman did not answer, but merely smiled.  Despite the affectations of the hand flapping, she was by far the most composed member of the circle.  Geraldine was in a state of such agitation that Emma was afraid she would make herself ill in the heat or, at the very least, demand that her bank draft be returned.

             
Hardly anyone ever says no to Gerry,
Emma thought. 
She is unaccustomed to the experience of having her requests denied or being treated with such cheerful and persistent rudeness.  At least Davy and I, with our working class roots, are better equipped to deal with the Miss Hoffmans of the world.

             
“Very well,” Davy said, with the equanimity of a man who indeed had met many Leigh Anne Hoffmans in his lifetime, and was sure to meet many more.  “Then you must expect me to return this evening when we can only assume Adelaide will come dragging back to food and cot and I can fingerprint and question her then.  She speaks English, so we shall not have to bother you to sit in on that interview, which I’m sure will be a great relief to everyone.”

             
Sharp fellow
, Emma thought, with a small smile of her own. In refusing to summon Adelaide now – for Emma was all but certain the woman was somewhere within the schoolhouse – Miss Hoffman had also forfeited her right to be present when Adelaide was questioned.

             
“And now on to our final question,” Davy continued calmly. His apprenticeship to Trevor had taught him that to gloat over an advantage during an interview was to risk nullifying it and besides, there was no reason to humiliate Miss Hoffman.  He suspected they would need her services yet again before this business was complete. “Will you please ask these ladies to sequence what happened within the household after Mrs. Weaver and Sang left for the Club?”

             
The answers to this inquiry yielded nothing of note beyond a confirmation of what Anthony Weaver had earlier told Trevor.  Felix had taken the Secretary-General to the Byculla and then returned to wait for the departure of Mrs. Weaver and Sang.  After they too rolled off in the general direction of the Club, the maid and cook had cleaned the remainder of the house, including the kitchen. 

             
Yes, nothing new to note and yet it was during all this tedious back and forth that Emma once again heard the same phrase being repeated over and over.  Miss Hoffman would spew out a series of syllables – one could only hope she was honestly asking Davy’s question – which was invariably answered by the women as with something that sounded like “thick high.” Sometimes they said a few words more, and sometimes not

             
This “thick high”
Emma thought. 
What does it mean?

             
“And so may I assume that we are at last finished?” Miss Hoffman said, when the final question had been asked and answered.  “I do not wish to limit my service to you, but it is time to begin thinking of what I shall prepare for dinner.  Would you care to stay?   I am making one of my curries and I flatter myself that, despite my English heritage, a lifetime in Bombay has somewhat given me the knack.”

             
“Thank you, but we must be going,” said Geraldine.  “You have been an angel of patience but we have kept you from your many duties far too long.”

             
Gerry is up to something,
Emma thought. 
Otherwise she would not be so civil to someone who is oh-so-clearly playing us for a pack of fools.

             
“Oh, but one other thing - last night at the Byculla Club,” Geraldine continued, her voice dripping with honey, “all the members were talking of a picnic planned for Friday.  I believe that is the day after tomorrow, is it not?  Of course it is. One gets so confused about dates when on holiday.  But, as I was saying… a group is going out to admire the latest additions to the glorious Cawnpore memorial.  You know, the new plaques and that sort of thing.  It should be a gay little trip.”

             
A gay little trip?
Emma thought, looking at Davy, who seemed equally unsure of where Gerry was going with all this. 
A gay little trip to the site of a slaughter?

             
“You and your girls must go with us,” Geraldine was saying.  “All of you, including Adelaide.  It promises to be such a fine respite from the heat of the city and the monotony of daily life, don’t you agree?”

             
“We do not associate with members of the Byculla Club,” Miss Hoffman responded quickly, although this sudden tack by Gerry seemed to have thrown her a bit off her game. “By mutual consent.”

             
“Yes, what a group of prigs they are, I quite agree,” Gerry said.  She flopped her hand around in an arch imitation of Miss Hoffman’s earlier move although Emma doubted anyone other than she was aware of how thoroughly Gerry was mocking the woman.  “But there may be potential patrons lurking among their ranks, might there not, and when they see how lovely your girls are….how perfectly suited for both matrimony and employment…  Oh, I quite insist you all come, Miss Hoffman.  Your students deserve the outing.  And if you are concerned about the expense, let me insist on inviting you as my guests.  We shall need how many carts for transport of your students, would you guess?  Three?  Four?”

             
Bravo
to you, my friend,
Emma thought. 
There is no cost to going on a picnic, anyone knows that.  But in offering to pay that nonexistent cost you are once again bribing Miss Hoffman to cooperate with our investigation.  For if there is one thing this woman cannot resist, it is the offer of money.  And if Adelaide comes too, we shall have every chance to observe her, talk to her, draw her away, however briefly, from Miss Hoffman’s protection.

             
“Five carts, I should think,” blurted out Miss Hoffman.  “We shall have to hire five to get them all there and that…that might be costly.”

             
“Ah,” said Geraldine.  “Five carts, indeed.  We certainly cannot allow the girls to be crushed all together and uncomfortable.  So we are speaking of… perhaps another hundred pounds, I should think?  Davy, please fetch my check book from the carriage.”

***

A Gentleman’s Rooming House in the English District

3:36 PM

             
“What the deuce are the two of you are doing here?”

             
Both Trevor and Rayley were so absorbed in the small notebook that they jumped at the sound of the voice.  Michael Everlee was standing in the doorframe, glaring.

             
“We are going through Jonathan Benson’s personal effects and his notes,” Trevor said, “as I imagine is quite obvious.  But save your outrage for another day.  Everything in this room counts as evidence and our paperwork from the Queen allows us full access.”

             
“Evidence?” Everlee asked, with a trace of contempt in his voice.  “So may I take it that you are now prepared to admit that Benson was murdered?”

             
“Detective Welles was referring to evidence in the murder of your mother,” Rayley said amiably. “Benson was here as a detective, was he not?  A detective under the guise of a bodyguard?”

             
“I fail to see why I should allow you to - “

             
“Look, Everlee,” Trevor said.  “You know the options as well as I do.  We can either scrap like junkyard dogs, or we can work together in this strange affair.  It is entirely your call.”

             
Everlee's eyes moved from one detective to the other with suspicion.  “Benson told me his investigation had just begun…”

             
“But he was on to something, was he not?” Rayley said.  “This notebook is full of his jottings.   Like this address here, does it mean anything to you?”  He turned the book toward Everlee who read quickly, then shook his head. 

             
“Or this rather painstakingly drawn chart,” Rayley continued.  “The numbers make little sense to us, but they most likely relate to the idea of poison.  Dosages?  It appears that someone trying to figure out how to give enough of the serum of a certain plant to stop the heart, but not to stop it immediately.  Death on a certain timetable…was that what our killer was attempting to orchestrate?”

             
Everlee blinked but said nothing.  Rayley persisted.  “Do you have any idea why he would write the word ‘laudanum’ with a question mark to follow?”

             
Now Everlee turned away, feigning a sudden interest in an indifferent landscape hung on a wall.  “Benson,” he said after a moment’s pause, “had promised me the utmost in discretion.  It even said as much on his business card.   ‘
Discretion is the better part of valor,’
it said, right there on the card.”