I found Holmes at the police station, berating the constable who seemed to
be very embarrassed about something. Stopping Holmes in mid-sentence, I
pulled him away and asked him what he had found out about Lily's death.
"Well," he began, "after I finally got that lazy inspector to get the an autopsy done, I looked over the girl's room and found some very interesting things."
"I hope that your 'interesting things' are better than what I found out," I said rather sarcastically.
"For one, the footprints that were not yours in that room were that of two people. One was a man who was about your height, Russell, and had a small limp. He is strong and rather muscular - also right-handed. The other person is a woman - possibly in her mid-twenties with dark hair and is not very tall, probably a few inches over five feet. That is all I could discern from the footsteps, except that your Miss Woodhouse did not step on the floor and leave footprints at any place in that room," he said, leading me out of the police station.
"But, Holmes," I said, "How could you see that in those prints? When I looked, there was nothing much that really showed what sort of person they were from."
"You did not look through the whole room, Russell. There was some mud on the footprints, in case you did not notice. If I am correct, it was raining here Monday night, then the mud would be usually expected. It also looks as if the murderers, as I will now call them, are clever, but do not have experience in crimes such as this. So, Russell, what did you find out?"
We had walked through the old streets of the scholarly city and had ended up at the river, which was empty now because of the cold, wet weather. I stared into the water as Holmes spoke. His question drew me out of my reverie.
"Did you not mention that you had found something else, Holmes?"
"Yes, I did, but I want to hear what you found out first," he replied.
I paused and thought of what I had found, more likely what I had not found.
"Lily was a very wealthy young woman," I began, "But her university records said nothing of her own will or of a connection with anyone in London. However, I did 'phone Mycroft and ask him to get someone to find some information on a connection there."
Holmes sighed, "I suppose that is all you could do without leaving Oxford."
"So, Holmes," I said after a silence, "What is it that you found out?"
He threw a stone into the water and watched it as it skipped across the surface.
"On the girl's bedside table, there was a tea cup with the reminisce of her last cup of tea. I smelled it and it was a very strong cup of mint tea that strangely smelled of laudanum. Do many students take a sleeping potion at night?"
"Yes, I am afraid that they do. Even I did sometimes so that I could get some sleep once in a while," I replied, "So you think that it made it easier to murder her?"
"Of course. When one is drugged, it's harder to wake up when someone hangs you. The case clearly now points to a cold-blooded murder. I'm sorry, Russell," he said softly as I looked away with tears in my eyes. "I now that it's hard to lose someone that you knew to murder; I lost someone myself, once." His grey eyes seemed faraway for a moment as I stared at him, rather surprised to hear this from him. I would have to ask him about it sometime.
"Holmes, what can we do right now so that we can find Lily's murderers? I won't rest until I can find out who they are and see them put to justice," I said with a stronger voice than I really felt.
Holmes smiled. "That's my Russell. To answer your question, which is a very good one, we can look at the contents of her will to see who she left all of her money to. That means that we will have to discover who her barrister is. One more thing is that I have a strong feeling that this is an inside job. Someone who belongs to that college had to let the killer in because there was no sign of a break-and-enter. It is rather suggestive." He frowned for a moment, then continued. "Russell, I will discover the contents of Miss Woodhouse's will and you can probe the college for the accomplice to this murder. I believe that the real killer was the man, while the accomplice was the woman. Remember her description?"
"No, not really," I replied sheepishly.
"She was short, with dark hair, and was probably in her mid- twenties."
I suddenly realized something at that moment. "Holmes!"
"What is it, Russell?"
"There are many who look like that at the college, but I remember one in particular that strikes me as being the top suspect," I said excitedly.
"Who is it?"
"Miss Phoebe Small. She was the one who showed me Lily's room on the morning after the murder. She has black hair, is a few years older than I am, and is quite short. Holmes, she is also clever enough to plan something like this out."
"Then immerse yourself into university life and watch her carefully. But, Russell, please be careful. We don't know how she will react when you've cornered her and we don't have any proof. Don't do anything rash, please," he said.
"Of course, Holmes," I replied, feeling like a schoolgirl. "I promise not to do anything too drastic."
He looked at me questioningly with a raised eyebrow, then turned to leave.
"But, it is far too late to do anything at the moment. Come, Russell, dinner awaits us at your landlady's expense," he said and we walked to my loggings, but still in my mind, even in the comfort of my husband's company, I saw the bloated and purple face of my one-time student.
"Well," he began, "after I finally got that lazy inspector to get the an autopsy done, I looked over the girl's room and found some very interesting things."
"I hope that your 'interesting things' are better than what I found out," I said rather sarcastically.
"For one, the footprints that were not yours in that room were that of two people. One was a man who was about your height, Russell, and had a small limp. He is strong and rather muscular - also right-handed. The other person is a woman - possibly in her mid-twenties with dark hair and is not very tall, probably a few inches over five feet. That is all I could discern from the footsteps, except that your Miss Woodhouse did not step on the floor and leave footprints at any place in that room," he said, leading me out of the police station.
"But, Holmes," I said, "How could you see that in those prints? When I looked, there was nothing much that really showed what sort of person they were from."
"You did not look through the whole room, Russell. There was some mud on the footprints, in case you did not notice. If I am correct, it was raining here Monday night, then the mud would be usually expected. It also looks as if the murderers, as I will now call them, are clever, but do not have experience in crimes such as this. So, Russell, what did you find out?"
We had walked through the old streets of the scholarly city and had ended up at the river, which was empty now because of the cold, wet weather. I stared into the water as Holmes spoke. His question drew me out of my reverie.
"Did you not mention that you had found something else, Holmes?"
"Yes, I did, but I want to hear what you found out first," he replied.
I paused and thought of what I had found, more likely what I had not found.
"Lily was a very wealthy young woman," I began, "But her university records said nothing of her own will or of a connection with anyone in London. However, I did 'phone Mycroft and ask him to get someone to find some information on a connection there."
Holmes sighed, "I suppose that is all you could do without leaving Oxford."
"So, Holmes," I said after a silence, "What is it that you found out?"
He threw a stone into the water and watched it as it skipped across the surface.
"On the girl's bedside table, there was a tea cup with the reminisce of her last cup of tea. I smelled it and it was a very strong cup of mint tea that strangely smelled of laudanum. Do many students take a sleeping potion at night?"
"Yes, I am afraid that they do. Even I did sometimes so that I could get some sleep once in a while," I replied, "So you think that it made it easier to murder her?"
"Of course. When one is drugged, it's harder to wake up when someone hangs you. The case clearly now points to a cold-blooded murder. I'm sorry, Russell," he said softly as I looked away with tears in my eyes. "I now that it's hard to lose someone that you knew to murder; I lost someone myself, once." His grey eyes seemed faraway for a moment as I stared at him, rather surprised to hear this from him. I would have to ask him about it sometime.
"Holmes, what can we do right now so that we can find Lily's murderers? I won't rest until I can find out who they are and see them put to justice," I said with a stronger voice than I really felt.
Holmes smiled. "That's my Russell. To answer your question, which is a very good one, we can look at the contents of her will to see who she left all of her money to. That means that we will have to discover who her barrister is. One more thing is that I have a strong feeling that this is an inside job. Someone who belongs to that college had to let the killer in because there was no sign of a break-and-enter. It is rather suggestive." He frowned for a moment, then continued. "Russell, I will discover the contents of Miss Woodhouse's will and you can probe the college for the accomplice to this murder. I believe that the real killer was the man, while the accomplice was the woman. Remember her description?"
"No, not really," I replied sheepishly.
"She was short, with dark hair, and was probably in her mid- twenties."
I suddenly realized something at that moment. "Holmes!"
"What is it, Russell?"
"There are many who look like that at the college, but I remember one in particular that strikes me as being the top suspect," I said excitedly.
"Who is it?"
"Miss Phoebe Small. She was the one who showed me Lily's room on the morning after the murder. She has black hair, is a few years older than I am, and is quite short. Holmes, she is also clever enough to plan something like this out."
"Then immerse yourself into university life and watch her carefully. But, Russell, please be careful. We don't know how she will react when you've cornered her and we don't have any proof. Don't do anything rash, please," he said.
"Of course, Holmes," I replied, feeling like a schoolgirl. "I promise not to do anything too drastic."
He looked at me questioningly with a raised eyebrow, then turned to leave.
"But, it is far too late to do anything at the moment. Come, Russell, dinner awaits us at your landlady's expense," he said and we walked to my loggings, but still in my mind, even in the comfort of my husband's company, I saw the bloated and purple face of my one-time student.