Page 88 of Murder on Cold Street
She picked up her sandwich again. The same problem existed with regard to forays to the chemist’s that had been logged in the appointment book. Only his trip to Dr. Ralston’s house was recorded correctly.
If she asked for verification from Mrs. Treadles, would she find that his documented visits to Cousins also hadn’t taken place? Or took place at entirely different times than what he wrote down?
Charlotte stopped eating. The roast beef sandwich had not only filled her stomach; it had revitalized her poor, tired brain. She knew now exactly what had been missing from Mr. Longstead’s appointment book.
He had never mentioned his call of condolence to Mrs. Cousins.
Seventeen
Mrs. Cousins shook Charlotte’s hand warmly. “Miss Holmes, please, have a seat. And please allow me to thank you for introducing Mrs. Watson to my sister-in-law. When I called on her yesterday evening, she was enormously relieved that at last someone gave her the courage to do what she should have done long ago.”
“That courage was Mrs. Treadles’s own,” answered Charlotte, sitting down.
“Very true, but sometimes we need a nudge—or even a strong kick—onto the right path.”
Charlotte inclined her head. “We are but doing what Mrs. Treadles engaged us to do.”
Although she would not deny, if pressed, that she’d been a little harsher on Mrs. Treadles than absolutely necessary, so that when the latter encountered Mrs. Watson, she would open up that much more readily.
“May I trouble you to answer a few more questions, Mrs. Cousins?” continued Charlotte. “I should have been more thorough at our prior meeting.”
Mrs. Cousins poured tea for Charlotte. “Oddly enough, after you left yesterday, I kept feeling that there was something I should have told you. My mother has been faring poorly of late. Between her health and my sister-in-law’s troubles, I haven’t been able tothink, let alone think clearly. But I should dearly love to help if at all I could.”
She raised her head. The day before she had doggedly answered questions because Charlotte had been Mrs. Treadles’s emissary. Now her gaze held a gleam of hope and excitement.
Charlotte inquired after her mother’s health, then said, “Perhaps you can begin by telling me when Mr. Longstead called on you to offer his condolences.”
Mrs. Cousins gasped. “But that’s just it! I remember now. I was about to speak more on his call when a carriage almost struck a child outside—and I was so unsettled that I forgot what I was going to say.”
Charlotte considered herself equally responsible for the lapse. Even if her goal had been to learn about Mr. Sullivan, she should have left no stone unturned.
“He came at the beginning of December, a most unexpected visit,” continued Mrs. Cousins. “He and Miss Longstead had sent a substantial wreathandattended the funeral. They had also sent a note of condolence. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Holmes, that Mr. Longstead had already done everything and more required by etiquette, given that he was never a personal friend to my husband?”
“Yes, I would agree,” answered Charlotte.
“So you can imagine my surprise when he called to condole with me, more than four months after Mr. Cousins died.”
Many things had changed for Mr. Longstead in the weeks before his death, and some of those changes had led him to call on Mrs. Cousins, with whom he’d rarely had any dealings. Charlotte let out a long, controlled breath. “Please give me all the details you can remember.”
“Well, he didn’t stay for much time, twenty minutes perhaps. We spent at least five of those minutes on the weather and another five on his niece. He lamented that she’d still not had a proper debut and took responsibility for the delay. I said I hoped it would happen soon but that alas, if it did, I would not be able to attend, given that I was still in first mourning.
“Eventually the topic turned to my husband. Mr. Longstead said he very much wished that in his younger years, instead of always locking himself in his workshop to tinker with prototypes, he’d had the wisdom to help my father-in-law guide my husband as he came of age. He wondered whether, if he’d done that, in later years we wouldn’t have been better friends and allies.”
She sighed. Framed against both the dark crape of her attire and the gold-and-green of the wallpaper beyond, she formed a near-perfect pre-Raphaelite tableau.
“I’ve been struggling to come to terms with the reality of the man I married. And for some reason, this wishful thinking on Mr. Longstead’s part, this vision of a reality that never was—it touched me. My husband had many faults, but did I have any fewer? Had I known he was going to die so young, would I have been a different wife and would we have had a better marriage?”
She fell silent; her face turned toward the window.
Outside the sun was setting. The hour Inspector Treadles would be formally charged drew ever nearer.
Charlotte pressed on. “Did Mr. Longstead by any chance mention Cousins Manufacturing or Mr. Sullivan?”
“No, but he did bring up Inspector and Mrs. Treadles during our chat about the weather. They’d dined together shortly before and would dine together again in a few days. I was still vexed at Inspector Treadles’s conduct, so I didn’t say much in response.”
And now the question Charlotte had come for. “Did he take anything from this household?”
Mrs. Cousins started. “How did you know?”
