In Myrtle Peril by Elizabeth C. Bunce

Author:Elizabeth C. Bunce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Young Readers
Published: 2022-09-08T17:58:22+00:00

14

Malpractice

Innovative scientists are experimenting with “optography,” attempting to capture images within the retinæ of the dead, much like a photograph. It may one day prove possible to reproduce the very last sights seen by murder victims.

–H. M. Hardcastle, Foundations of Legal Medicine

Dear Reader, some days in the life of an Aspiring Investigator are fated to be more challenging than others. Looking after one’s father in hospital, identifying murder victims, comforting overset clients, dodging angry aunts, and soothing sulky friends is enough to try the most Exceptionally Forbearing soul.

Aunt Helena and the Ladies Committee took Sally off our hands, although frankly I think she’d have been safer with us. Then Miss Judson, Cook, Peony, and I were summarily excluded from the Investigation proper by the arrival of the constables. Father, of course, held court over the scene, forgetting he was still dressed in hospital pyjamas. The policemen politely pretended to forget as well.

Detective Constable Carstairs had brought three other men, including two junior members of the constabulary that I recognized. D.C. Carstairs had recently been promoted (solving three murders in a fortnight does wonders for one’s career), and I knew him well. Although I must say he didn’t seem especially pleased to see me again.

Miss Judson and I bade farewell to Cook and Peony (who was perfectly happy to be returned to the basket that had borne the Chelsea buns) and withdrew to a sunny corner of the courtyard.

“Now what?” I demanded.

“Now we wait,” Miss Judson said with annoying composure. “With hope they’ll identify the body quickly, the killer will step forward, and this whole unpleasant episode will be wrapped up by the end of the day.”

“You must be feverish,” I said. “What about Father? He’s not safe here—not only is he making a spectacle of himself, what if the murderer comes after him next? We must bring him home.”

She sighed and straightened her hat. “As much as it pains me to admit, I am not a qualified nurse. Do you know how to care for someone recovering from tonsillectomy?”

I hadn’t read the clinical manual, but I imagined it involved more rest and less breaking and entering. Miss Judson continued, “Furthermore, I can state with scientific certainty that there is approximately zero chance that your father would consent to leave the hospital now.”

“Based on what?” I scoffed, and she eyed me evenly.

“Would you leave?”

“Point taken.” I slumped down onto one of the planters, the cold bricks chilling my backside through my skirts and petticoats. I dug out my notebook. “We’d better get to work, then.”

“Beginning with what you and your father uncovered last night.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather he tell you?”

She glanced across the courtyard, to where Father was once more engaged in pantomime, acting something out for the bemused constables. It appeared to be a gorilla riding a unicycle. “No. Proceed.”

I explained our errand to Governor Greeley’s office, including his curious artifacts, and Father’s discovery of the donations to SWOBS. “Although that doesn’t seem particularly suspicious anymore, since the victim turned out to be male.

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