Page 86 of Murder on Cold Street
Mrs. Watson not only straightened. She leaned forward and took hold of his other hand. “Tell me.”
“I let her know that I was terrified and she said, ‘Don’t forget, sir, that I am a queen upon this board, and I do not play to lose.’”
He held Mrs. Watson’s gaze, his eyes deep yet clear. “I had her in my corner then. Inspector Treadles has her in his corner now. She will not let him down.”
Mrs. Watson felt a smile rising to her own lips. But—“I thought that at Stern Hollow Miss Charlotte had a strong idea from the very beginning as to who was responsible for the body in the icehouse. Here she must be in the dark, the same as the rest of us.”
Lord Ingram pitched a brow, a hint of mischief to his expression. “Weare in the dark, absolutely, my dearest lady. But Miss Charlotte? She most likely has a clear ideawhathappened and is only looking to find out why.”
After Mr. Woodhollow left her town coach, Charlotte made a close study of Mr. Longstead’s appointment book, which recorded, beginning from the final week of November, numerous instances at theBritish Museum, several meetings at Cousins, two trips to the chemist’s, and one encounter with his physician.
As Charlotte was already in the neighborhood, she asked her way to Sealy and Worcester, the nearest establishment of pharmaceutical chemists. Both Mr. Sealy and Mr. Worcester knew Mr. Longstead, and had considered him a friend as well as a faithful customer, who, when in town, could be expected to frequent the shop weekly.
“Was there anything he bought on a regular basis?” asked Charlotte.
“I believe those kept him coming back.” Mr. Sealy gestured to a row of large, clear glass jars that contained vividly colored sweets. “My sister is a talented confectioner and Miss Longstead is very fond of our gummy-textured sweets. Mr. Longstead could usually be counted on to buy a packet of her favorite flavors, a packet of my sister’s newer creations, some household items entrusted to him by his housekeeper, and one or two things that simply caught his attention.”
“Mr. Sealy is correct,” said Mr. Worcester, emerging from the back room to join his partner behind the counter. “It was really the sweets he came for. But we flattered ourselves in thinking that perhaps once in a while he enjoyed conversation with others who’ve had some scientific training.”
“May I have a penny’s worth of this lemon-flavored gummy sweet?” Charlotte pointed to a glass jar. “And may I ask what conversational topics interested Mr. Longstead?”
“Oh, many,” said Mr. Worcester. “When his niece grew interested in the making of abstracts and absolutes, he consulted Mr. Sealy, who has broad experience with tinctures.”
“We did speak for a while on that,” concurred Mr. Sealy as he scooped bright yellow sweets into a small paper packet. “And then there was the time you and he discussed remedies for cancer.”
“Which we do not sell,” Mr. Worcester hastened to assureCharlotte. “Mr. Longstead and I agreed they exist solely to extort money from the already desperate.”
Charlotte also asked for a packet of peppermint sticks—it was almost Christmas, after all.
“Mr. Longstead liked a peppermint lozenge once in a while,” said Mr. Sealy. He weighed and closed the packets carefully. “And Mr. Worcester and I both participated in a conversation with him about the days before the regulations of ’68. I made my own fireworks back then. Alas, Miss Longstead won’t be able to.”
His partner patted him on the arm. “But you did give Mr. Longstead a recipe in case his niece wished to prepare her own photographic solution. The practice of chemistry didn’t stop being enjoyable with the regulation of explosives.”
“True, true.” Mr. Sealy chuckled. “Likely I’m missing being young, rather than being able to make fireworks.”
Charlotte let the reminiscences continue for a few more exchanges, enjoying their camaraderie, and then she asked, “Do you gentlemen remember when Mr. Longstead last came in?”
“That would be the Tuesday before he passed away,” said Mr. Worcester. “Mr. Sealy was feeling poorly that day so it was only me in the shop.”
“And before that?”
“Before that he came in two days in a row, which was rather unusual,” answered Mr. Sealy. “He told me it was because the first day he was so busy talking he forgot to make his purchases, and realized only when he got home.”
He smiled, only to have that smile fade into sadness.
Mr. Worcester again gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “And those two days would have been the Monday and Tuesday of the week before,” he told Charlotte.
To thank the pharmaceutical chemists, in addition to the sweets, Charlotte also bought a bar of rose soap and a tin of lip salve, both again made by Mr. Sealy’s talented sister. As she paid for herpurchases, she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know the address of Dr. Ralston, Mr. Longstead’s physician, would you?”
Dr. Ralston lived nearby. A few minutes later, Charlotte was knocking on his door.
The physician did not appear to be in the best of health. As Charlotte was shown into his drawing room, he coughed into a monogrammed handkerchief and, in a raspy voice, begged Charlotte for her forgiveness.
After a brief inquiry into his health—he’d caught a cold several days ago—Charlotte explained the purpose of her visit. “I understand that Mr. Longstead died of a gunshot wound, and not from any illnesses. But is there any light you can shed on his health?”
Dr. Ralston added two spoonfuls of honey and a twist of lemon into his tea, took several swallows, and sounded less hoarse when he spoke again. “What ailed Mr. Longstead was a combination of actual problems alongside a mental incapacity to restrain himself. In a different man, such health issues as he had wouldn’t have been enough to force an early retirement. But he couldn’t not overwork. If there was a problem, he wouldn’t eat or sleep until he’d solved it. That temperament was terrific for a man with many engineering difficulties to solve, but terrible for someone whose body needed to be properly fed, rested, and otherwise cared for.
“Perhaps if he’d married, his wife might have been able to regulate his schedule. But he remained a bachelor who didn’t understand the meaning of moderation. And so it was that he nearly killed himself twice through sheer carelessness and overwork, before old Mr. Cousins, of all people, made the decision that he absolutely must stop.”
