Page 52 of Evil at the Essex House
Yes, it was. “Should we take the letters with us and read the rest of them?”
“I can’t imagine what else we might learn,” Christopher said with a glance at the stack. “The one I read was mostly just updates on what was going on in Toledo and greetings from people I assume Flossie must have known. If they thought Ruth was still here as late as three months ago, I don’t see what the earlier letters might tell us that’s different. That was the most recent one, I assume?”
“It was the one on top of the stack, but I suppose I can check.” I did so, and nodded. “Yes. Five letters, the first postmarked November last year, the last postmarked early June. No mention of a trip to visit England in the part you didn’t read out loud, I assume?”
Christopher shook his head. “So if we estimate two weeks for a letter to travel from England to the US, and then a few days to write a response, and another two weeks for the response to travel from the US back to England… I would assume Flossie posted a response sometime in mid-to-late-June, which arrived in Toledo around the first week of July, and the Schlomskys sent a response in mid-July, which would have gotten here early this month… except perhaps not, if they were planning a surprise trip and didn’t want to give the surprise away.”
I nodded. “”That’s logical. So as far as Mama Schlomsky knew, the last time she communicated with her daughter, Ruth was still here, taking care of Florence.”
“So it seems,” Christopher agreed. “But we’ve been here six months or so now, and as far as we know, there’s never been a Ruth.”
I looked around, vaguely. “I wonder if Flossie has the contact information for Ruth written down somewhere.”
“If she had, I imagine she would have tidied it away before her parents arrived, don’t you?” But he was looking around, too, vaguely.
“She didn’t know she was going to be kidnapped,” I said, “did she? Although it isn’t anywhere in this room, if she had it. I looked everywhere. There’s nothing but jewelry in the jewelry box—a few very nice pieces, a couple of strings of real pearls, something I would swear are real diamonds—but no contact information for anyone.”
“False bottom?”
I shook my head. “If there was, I didn’t find it.”
Christopher nodded. “Let’s check the sitting room, then. And the kitchenette. Nothing’s likely to be there, I guess, but we should look.”
Of course we should.
“I’ll take the escritoire,” Christopher said, “if you’ll take the table and chairs. Be sure to check the cushions.”
“I hardly think Ruth’s direction is going to be hidden behind a sofa pillow,” I told him as I headed towards the seating area, “but I’ll certainly check. It will be a formality, I’m sure. If there’s anything, it’ll be in the desk.”
“If it is, I’ll find it. But look carefully anyway.”
Of course I would. I flipped sofa pillows and slid my hands below and under cushions and found nothing for my trouble except a few coins, a misplaced lighter—no distinguishing marks, but it looked more dainty than masculine, so was probably one of Flossie’s own—and several Kirbigrips that must have made their way out of her—or someone else’s—hair.
“Have you noticed the gaps?” Christopher wanted to know, and I turned to him with a wrinkle between my brows.
“Noticed what?”
He threw out a hand, and I looked around. And now that he had mentioned it, I did notice a few gaps. The mantel had a vase in the middle, with pink flowers in it, and to the right, a few small trinkets. To the left there was nothing.
“You’ve never been here before, have you, Pippa?”
I shook my head. “We’re not close, Christopher. You know that. You’ve never been in Flossie’s flat before either, have you?”
He shuddered. “No. You were here yesterday, with the Schlomskys.”
I glanced around again. “Yes, but nothing has changed since then. How could it? She was already gone yesterday afternoon.”
“The kidnappers would have had her key,” Christopher said.
“I hardly think they would risk coming back here, do you? Besides, Evans would have mentioned anyone coming in and going up to Flossie’s flat.”
He hummed. “It’s more likely that Flossie herself removed whatever was there. But if so, where did she put it?” He looked around, pensively.
“And why remove it in the first place?” I glanced over at the mantel again. “Photographs?”
“That would be my guess,” Christopher said.
“Someone she didn’t want her parents to see, then, most likely. So she tidied it away in advance of their arrival.”
