A/N: I'm Extremely sorry for my delay in this story. I hit upon several
bumps in the plot and have taken the time to sort out the problem. I now
have the entire plot of the story laid out, and rest assured, this story
will be complete. Unfortunately, I'm only revising this chapter for now,
since it is sort of necessary for later on. Hopefully the next chapter will
come soon. Thank you very much to all the people who reviewed my story so
far, your words are very encouraging to me. Please continue to R/R and tell
me any suggestions you want to see happen to the story. Once Again, I don't
own anyone in this story apart from Kathryn Granger. And now, enjoy!
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Chapter 11- Miss Jennifer Thompson
We left the bedroom of the deceased and slowly proceeded down the stairs to where Inspector Gregson stood talking to a constable.
"Inspector," called Kathryn, "Would you please have the kindness to gather up all of the servants in the kitchen so that I may ask them a few questions?"
"Certainly, Miss Granger," replied the inspector with a sympathetic grin on his face. "But I won't guarantee anything out of them. The case is hopeless against Holmes the way I see it. You could be doing so many more productive things than moping around this melancholy place." He continued to smile at her and it seemed to me that he had actually taken a fancy toward her.
"Thank you very much for your concern, Inspector," responded Kathryn, "but I don't mind 'moping around' here at all. There is something about this place that stimulates the creative juices of a writer. Perhaps I will gain fresh ideas for my novel if I do not gain anything else."
"As you wish, Miss Granger," said the Inspector before turning to gather the servants.
"If I hadn't known better, I would say that the good inspector is taking a fancy to you," I said, chuckling.
"Well, I think you might just be right," she responded, smiling as her emerald eyes twinkled with glee. "Perhaps I will be able to use this to my own advantage. But never mind that now, we have work to do."
We went into the kitchen, a sparsely furnished, yet oddly modern room. There was a large oak table in the middle of the room, with six chairs standing around it. The landlady and two other servants were standing behind these chairs patiently awaiting our questions.
"Would you please have the kindness to step outside so that I may ask your employer some questions?" asked Kathryn kindly. The two servants consented and curtsied themselves out of the room.
"Pray take a seat," said Kathryn, taking one of the chairs at the table herself. "Well, now that we are both comfortable, I have some questions I need to ask you, and I hope that you will be fair with me in answering truthfully."
With that preamble, Kathryn started to question the landlady. Kathryn's technique of interrogating was indeed, very similar to that of Holmes. Both had the gift of being very soothing when needed. The landlady started to be very tense, as the whole situation caused her much stress, but as soon as she gazed into those sparkling emerald eyes of Kathryn's, an almost hypnotic effect occurred and she soon calmed down.
The landlady revealed that she heard nothing on the day of the murder, as she retired early that evening. When asked why, she responded by saying that she felt ill and had a headache after dinner. She then responded that she felt fine the next day. When asked what kind of food she ate for dinner, the landlady responded that she had eaten the curry that the servants had prepared.
When the interview concluded, Kathryn thanked the landlady before beckoning the first maid to enter the room.
A few moments later, the first maid stepped into the room. The interview was brief and Kathryn had received similar answers as to the ones she had gotten from the landlady.
"The situation grows curious," she mused as the first maid left the room at the conclusion of the interview. "I wonder if the curry has anything to do with this."
"The curry?" I asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Don't you find it singular, that the cook was serving such a spicy dish in the summer, when the temperature is so warm?"
"Well, I suppose it is an odd event," I conceded.
"It may be just a trivial coincidence," observed Kathryn, "but it could also be the clue we were looking for. I want to follow it as far as it can carry us."
As she was speaking, the second maid stepped into the room. She was a short, slightly plump woman in her mid-20s, with sandy coloured hair and a pair of piercing grey eyes, framed behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with large, rectangular lenses. She eyed both of us suspiciously and stood before us almost defiantly.
"Please, have a seat," said Kathryn warmly. "My name is Kathryn Granger, and this is Dr. Watson," she continued, motioning towards me. "As you are aware, we are investigating the murder of Miss Julia Stamford, who was previously residing in these lodgings. We would be obliged if you answered few questions."
"I hope to be of as much service as I can," replied the maid indifferently. "My name is Jennifer Thompson."
"Miss Thompson, how long have you been employed here?" Kathryn asked.
"I've been working here for almost a year now, Miss Granger," Jennifer replied.
"I understand that your employer, fellow employee and you turned in early on the night of the murder. Can you tell me why?"
"I retired early that night because I was tired and I felt a severe headache beginning to form," explained Jennifer. "I didn't want to get to work the next day with a headache, so I decided to turn in early. Had I known that the murder would have occurred, I would have most certainly stayed awake and tried to help the poor lodger."
"At what time did you retire?" asked Kathryn.
"I retired at half past nine that night; an hour before my usual bedtime." Jennifer answered.
"Miss Thompson, you have been quite frank with me so far," commented Kathryn soothingly, "and I'll hope you'll be frank in answering the question that I will now pose to you."
"I will be as frank as I possibly can," said Jennifer, with a determined look upon her face.
"What is your opinion of the events that happened on the night of the murder?" asked Kathryn with a piercing look on her face "Do you truly believe that Mr. Holmes is responsible for this heinous crime?"
For the briefest of moments, there was a glint of anger and deep suspicion that shone into those pale, grey eyes, which belonged to the maid.
"Mr. Holmes, as I have heard, is capable of most anything," she replied simply.
It seemed that was just what Kathryn had expected. She dismissed the maid with a sigh, and then turned to the landlady once more before taking leave.
"I beg your pardon, but may I search the rooms of yourself and of all the servants you employ here? Under the circumstances, I feel that it is necessary for the success of this case."
"Well, I suppose, if it is absolutely necessary," replied the landlady grudgingly, a little surprised. "But I thought that the case was already solved and the perpetrator was safely in prison."
"The case is by no means closed and I have reason to believe that the police have gotten the wrong man," explained Kathryn.
"Really?" asked the landlady in amazement. "Well, I hope you find the real villain who did this. Please, come this way."
The landlady started up the stairs, beckoning us to follow. After turning down a narrow corridor on the left, she stopped in front of a row of stained oak doors, each with elegant carvings of hyacinths on the frames.
"This is my room," stated the landlady as she pointed toward the door in front of us, "and the servants' rooms are down the hall," she continued before turning to go back down the stairs.
Without a word, Kathryn quickly strode to the end of the corridor and went into the bedroom at the end. I went after her and found her looking in the closet by the small bed.
Kathryn systematically shuffled through all the dresses and undergarments before she found a small envelope with a broken seal made of lustrous purple wax with a strange ( imprinted upon it. Kathryn carefully opened the envelope and tipped out to contents to reveal a small amount of a fine, white, powdery substance.
"Interesting," Kathryn mused quietly, with her glittering, green eyes hardening as she put some of the powder into a small, white envelope, before folding it up and placing into a pocket hidden among the numerous folds of her skirt.
Kathryn continued looking through the maid's trunk until she found an ornately carved jewellery box made of pine, and opened it. There was a single ring of pure gold with a tiger's eye gemstone set around a ring of diamonds. Inside the band was inscription, "Tigerlily" upon it.
"Keep these things in mind," whispered Kathryn as she closed the lid on the jewellery box, "and not a word to another soul about this."
Kathryn then promptly stood up and stepped out of the room. I quickly followed her out of the room and saw her rushing down the stairs to meet the landlady.
"I trust that you have found everything is to your satisfaction, Miss Granger," said the landlady. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Actually, I will only ask you one more question before we take our leave," replied Kathryn. "Did any of the servants receive messages around the time of the murder?"
The landlady sunk her brow deep in thought, then replied, "Why, yes. I received a telegram from my brother in the States, and one more arrived for Miss Stamford. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, it was just a thought. Would you happen to have the telegrams here?
"I'm sorry," she said, "Our maids empty the litter bins daily."
Kathryn seemed disappointed, but I still saw that there was much hope in her.
"Thank you very much for your assistance," said Kathryn as she headed for the front door. "It appears that I have taken enough of your precious time. I bid you good day."
We hailed a brougham, which Kathryn directed to the post office. We stepped out into the sunshine and ambled briskly into the postal office. Kathryn immediately went to the office of the chief clerk and introduced herself.
"Good afternoon, sir. My name is Kathryn Granger, and this is my companion, Dr. John Watson. I am here to perform a service on behalf of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, whom I'm sure you've heard of."
The clerk looked up at her from his desk with amused air. "I would be happy to assist Mr. Holmes in any way possible. What can I do for you?"
Kathryn gave him her warmest smile of appreciation, and then said, "I need copies of the two telegrams sent to the bed and board at 243, Oxford Street."
"Of course, miss. Let me check our records." The clerk rummaged in his files for a few minutes.
"Aha! Here you are: all three telegrams."
Kathryn looked suspicious, her eyes narrowing and her brow furrowing. "I thought there were only two: one for the landlady and one for the deceased."
The clerk scanned the papers, and then said, "Yes, those are here. There is also one for a Miss Jennifer Thompson."
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Chapter 11- Miss Jennifer Thompson
We left the bedroom of the deceased and slowly proceeded down the stairs to where Inspector Gregson stood talking to a constable.
"Inspector," called Kathryn, "Would you please have the kindness to gather up all of the servants in the kitchen so that I may ask them a few questions?"
"Certainly, Miss Granger," replied the inspector with a sympathetic grin on his face. "But I won't guarantee anything out of them. The case is hopeless against Holmes the way I see it. You could be doing so many more productive things than moping around this melancholy place." He continued to smile at her and it seemed to me that he had actually taken a fancy toward her.
"Thank you very much for your concern, Inspector," responded Kathryn, "but I don't mind 'moping around' here at all. There is something about this place that stimulates the creative juices of a writer. Perhaps I will gain fresh ideas for my novel if I do not gain anything else."
"As you wish, Miss Granger," said the Inspector before turning to gather the servants.
"If I hadn't known better, I would say that the good inspector is taking a fancy to you," I said, chuckling.
"Well, I think you might just be right," she responded, smiling as her emerald eyes twinkled with glee. "Perhaps I will be able to use this to my own advantage. But never mind that now, we have work to do."
We went into the kitchen, a sparsely furnished, yet oddly modern room. There was a large oak table in the middle of the room, with six chairs standing around it. The landlady and two other servants were standing behind these chairs patiently awaiting our questions.
"Would you please have the kindness to step outside so that I may ask your employer some questions?" asked Kathryn kindly. The two servants consented and curtsied themselves out of the room.
"Pray take a seat," said Kathryn, taking one of the chairs at the table herself. "Well, now that we are both comfortable, I have some questions I need to ask you, and I hope that you will be fair with me in answering truthfully."
With that preamble, Kathryn started to question the landlady. Kathryn's technique of interrogating was indeed, very similar to that of Holmes. Both had the gift of being very soothing when needed. The landlady started to be very tense, as the whole situation caused her much stress, but as soon as she gazed into those sparkling emerald eyes of Kathryn's, an almost hypnotic effect occurred and she soon calmed down.
The landlady revealed that she heard nothing on the day of the murder, as she retired early that evening. When asked why, she responded by saying that she felt ill and had a headache after dinner. She then responded that she felt fine the next day. When asked what kind of food she ate for dinner, the landlady responded that she had eaten the curry that the servants had prepared.
When the interview concluded, Kathryn thanked the landlady before beckoning the first maid to enter the room.
A few moments later, the first maid stepped into the room. The interview was brief and Kathryn had received similar answers as to the ones she had gotten from the landlady.
"The situation grows curious," she mused as the first maid left the room at the conclusion of the interview. "I wonder if the curry has anything to do with this."
"The curry?" I asked, "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Don't you find it singular, that the cook was serving such a spicy dish in the summer, when the temperature is so warm?"
"Well, I suppose it is an odd event," I conceded.
"It may be just a trivial coincidence," observed Kathryn, "but it could also be the clue we were looking for. I want to follow it as far as it can carry us."
As she was speaking, the second maid stepped into the room. She was a short, slightly plump woman in her mid-20s, with sandy coloured hair and a pair of piercing grey eyes, framed behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with large, rectangular lenses. She eyed both of us suspiciously and stood before us almost defiantly.
"Please, have a seat," said Kathryn warmly. "My name is Kathryn Granger, and this is Dr. Watson," she continued, motioning towards me. "As you are aware, we are investigating the murder of Miss Julia Stamford, who was previously residing in these lodgings. We would be obliged if you answered few questions."
"I hope to be of as much service as I can," replied the maid indifferently. "My name is Jennifer Thompson."
"Miss Thompson, how long have you been employed here?" Kathryn asked.
"I've been working here for almost a year now, Miss Granger," Jennifer replied.
"I understand that your employer, fellow employee and you turned in early on the night of the murder. Can you tell me why?"
"I retired early that night because I was tired and I felt a severe headache beginning to form," explained Jennifer. "I didn't want to get to work the next day with a headache, so I decided to turn in early. Had I known that the murder would have occurred, I would have most certainly stayed awake and tried to help the poor lodger."
"At what time did you retire?" asked Kathryn.
"I retired at half past nine that night; an hour before my usual bedtime." Jennifer answered.
"Miss Thompson, you have been quite frank with me so far," commented Kathryn soothingly, "and I'll hope you'll be frank in answering the question that I will now pose to you."
"I will be as frank as I possibly can," said Jennifer, with a determined look upon her face.
"What is your opinion of the events that happened on the night of the murder?" asked Kathryn with a piercing look on her face "Do you truly believe that Mr. Holmes is responsible for this heinous crime?"
For the briefest of moments, there was a glint of anger and deep suspicion that shone into those pale, grey eyes, which belonged to the maid.
"Mr. Holmes, as I have heard, is capable of most anything," she replied simply.
It seemed that was just what Kathryn had expected. She dismissed the maid with a sigh, and then turned to the landlady once more before taking leave.
"I beg your pardon, but may I search the rooms of yourself and of all the servants you employ here? Under the circumstances, I feel that it is necessary for the success of this case."
"Well, I suppose, if it is absolutely necessary," replied the landlady grudgingly, a little surprised. "But I thought that the case was already solved and the perpetrator was safely in prison."
"The case is by no means closed and I have reason to believe that the police have gotten the wrong man," explained Kathryn.
"Really?" asked the landlady in amazement. "Well, I hope you find the real villain who did this. Please, come this way."
The landlady started up the stairs, beckoning us to follow. After turning down a narrow corridor on the left, she stopped in front of a row of stained oak doors, each with elegant carvings of hyacinths on the frames.
"This is my room," stated the landlady as she pointed toward the door in front of us, "and the servants' rooms are down the hall," she continued before turning to go back down the stairs.
Without a word, Kathryn quickly strode to the end of the corridor and went into the bedroom at the end. I went after her and found her looking in the closet by the small bed.
Kathryn systematically shuffled through all the dresses and undergarments before she found a small envelope with a broken seal made of lustrous purple wax with a strange ( imprinted upon it. Kathryn carefully opened the envelope and tipped out to contents to reveal a small amount of a fine, white, powdery substance.
"Interesting," Kathryn mused quietly, with her glittering, green eyes hardening as she put some of the powder into a small, white envelope, before folding it up and placing into a pocket hidden among the numerous folds of her skirt.
Kathryn continued looking through the maid's trunk until she found an ornately carved jewellery box made of pine, and opened it. There was a single ring of pure gold with a tiger's eye gemstone set around a ring of diamonds. Inside the band was inscription, "Tigerlily" upon it.
"Keep these things in mind," whispered Kathryn as she closed the lid on the jewellery box, "and not a word to another soul about this."
Kathryn then promptly stood up and stepped out of the room. I quickly followed her out of the room and saw her rushing down the stairs to meet the landlady.
"I trust that you have found everything is to your satisfaction, Miss Granger," said the landlady. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Actually, I will only ask you one more question before we take our leave," replied Kathryn. "Did any of the servants receive messages around the time of the murder?"
The landlady sunk her brow deep in thought, then replied, "Why, yes. I received a telegram from my brother in the States, and one more arrived for Miss Stamford. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, it was just a thought. Would you happen to have the telegrams here?
"I'm sorry," she said, "Our maids empty the litter bins daily."
Kathryn seemed disappointed, but I still saw that there was much hope in her.
"Thank you very much for your assistance," said Kathryn as she headed for the front door. "It appears that I have taken enough of your precious time. I bid you good day."
We hailed a brougham, which Kathryn directed to the post office. We stepped out into the sunshine and ambled briskly into the postal office. Kathryn immediately went to the office of the chief clerk and introduced herself.
"Good afternoon, sir. My name is Kathryn Granger, and this is my companion, Dr. John Watson. I am here to perform a service on behalf of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, whom I'm sure you've heard of."
The clerk looked up at her from his desk with amused air. "I would be happy to assist Mr. Holmes in any way possible. What can I do for you?"
Kathryn gave him her warmest smile of appreciation, and then said, "I need copies of the two telegrams sent to the bed and board at 243, Oxford Street."
"Of course, miss. Let me check our records." The clerk rummaged in his files for a few minutes.
"Aha! Here you are: all three telegrams."
Kathryn looked suspicious, her eyes narrowing and her brow furrowing. "I thought there were only two: one for the landlady and one for the deceased."
The clerk scanned the papers, and then said, "Yes, those are here. There is also one for a Miss Jennifer Thompson."