Miss Charlotte’s Case Journal - Chapter 13

Why did she lie? Which part was the lie? Was it the part about whether Sir Lau knew of the baron’s affair, or about sending him on errands?

What kind of errand could it have been? If it was something important enough to entrust to a knight, it couldn’t have been trivial. She’d said it was something embarrassing to be seen by others, but maybe it was something that simply couldn’t be seen by others. For example,

“Poison….”

Charlotte’s mind spun. No, no, that couldn’t be it. It was a misunderstanding, a wild assumption by people who knew nothing. Lucy would never do such a thing.

No… no, I’m overthinking this. Just because she sent someone to a pharmacy doesn’t mean she bought poison. It’s rare to use a knight as an errand boy, but if it was Sir Lau, he might have volunteered. Even Miss May had said so, that Sir Lau took care of all sorts of chores, like a servant.

Still, she definitely lied about something.

Charlotte forced herself to calm down as she trudged forward. Re-entering the mansion, she caught a passing maid and asked where Inspector Henry was. The maid shook her head, saying she didn’t know. Then she brushed past Charlotte, heading toward the door with something in her hands.

“…Wait a second.”

Charlotte snatched what the maid was carrying right out of her hands. The maid stumbled from the force, but Charlotte didn’t even think to apologize.

It was a paper bag full of trash. Without hesitation, Charlotte plunged her hand inside and began rummaging through it. When she couldn’t find what she wanted, she overturned the bag and dumped everything onto the marble floor. Dust and bits of garbage scattered everywhere, covering the shining surface.

The maid flinched instinctively, her face twisting in displeasure as she stepped back. Charlotte ignored her, dropping to her knees to sift through the mess. Her hands trembled as she moved aside the bits of waste. No, it couldn’t be, it had to be a mistake… but then her fingers brushed against what she’d been looking for, and her heart stopped.

A sharp needle glinted faintly in the light. It looked almost alive, gleaming with the malice of something that could end life itself.

Charlotte slowly lifted the syringe in her shaking hand. She kept telling herself it must be a mistake, an illusion, but her denial shattered into pieces. Whose was it? For what purpose had it been used?

Yes, the baron had died from poison, but the silver’s reaction in his stomach only proved that poison had entered his system. If the dose had been too small to be fatal, and if the true cause of death had been something else entirely….

Were there any injection marks on the baron’s body? Charlotte desperately searched her memory, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall. She’d seen the silver’s reaction and assumed the cause of death was clear, neglecting to examine the rest of the body more carefully.

Idiot. She needed to return to the morgue and reexamine the body immediately.

Gripping the syringe tightly, Charlotte stood up abruptly and found herself locking eyes with a maid staring at her with a strange expression.

Ah. Only then did Charlotte truly register the mess she’d made.

“I-I’m sorry.”

She hurriedly tucked the syringe into her coat and began scooping the scattered trash back into the paper bag. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t fully clean the floor; dust and stains still marred the marble.

As she glanced around for something to wipe it with—

“….”

Her gaze met Henry’s, standing at the top of the stairs.

“Ahem.”

Oh, God. How embarrassing. Charlotte jumped to her feet.

The maid, smiling kindly, took the paper bag from her hands and said, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“…Thank you. Really.”

Charlotte whispered a small apology, her face full of embarrassment. Henry walked down the stairs and stopped in front of her. Feeling self-conscious about her dirty hands, Charlotte quickly hid them behind her back. If it had been Eugene, she wouldn’t have felt ashamed at all, but of all people, it had to be someone from the Metropolitan Police Department….

The morgue had suffered too much humiliation and disgrace when it was still under the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police Department. Even though Charlotte hadn’t experienced that period herself, she couldn’t completely free herself from the resentment that still lingered among her colleagues.

Henry smiled kindly and offered her a handkerchief. Charlotte snatched it from him and wiped her hands roughly. The silk cloth wasn’t exactly ideal for cleaning, so her hands still felt sticky, but it was bearable for the moment.

“Shall we head back?”

“…Sure.”

Charlotte felt a flicker of gratitude that Henry didn’t ask any questions. What would she have said if he’d asked what she had been doing? The embarrassment would’ve come second; she wasn’t even sure how to explain the syringe yet.

The two of them climbed into the carriage, receiving Sir Lau’s polite, almost dismissive farewell, which felt more like being thrown out.

“To the Bisset Pharmacy, please,” Henry told the coachman.

The pharmacy? Not the train station? Charlotte turned to him, puzzled. Noticing her stare, Henry gave a sheepish smile and explained.

“Sir Lau mentioned that the baroness ordered medicine from there once a month. Headache relievers, painkillers, minor remedies for chronic conditions—things like that. It seemed worth checking out.”

“…The baroness said the same thing. She mentioned that about once a month, she’d ask him to buy some medicine for her. Normally, he went alone, but last month, she said he took Miss May with him.”

“That works out perfectly, then. We can check with Miss May once we return to the station.”

What kind of medicine had Lucy bought there? Most of the drugs available for household use were simple oral medicines. Medicines requiring a syringe weren’t sold to private individuals so easily. Normally, one had to hire a personal physician and sign a formal contract that covered the cost of both treatment and medicine. The doctor would then visit, bring the necessary injections, administer them, and leave with the used syringes afterward. Of course, there were rare cases where someone suffering from an illness they didn’t want even their physician to know about would secretly prepare their own supply of medicine beforehand….

With uneasy thoughts filling her mind, Charlotte followed Henry to the Bisset Pharmacy, only to find it closed—it was far too late in the day. With no other choice, the two turned back empty-handed, unable to gain anything new.

“The baroness knew, too.”

Inside the train, Charlotte stared blankly at the scenery rushing past the window before suddenly speaking up.

“Knew what?”

“That her husband was having an affair. She seemed rather indifferent about it, though.”

“Whether she was indifferent, or whether she’d already spent all her anger, we can’t really say.”

At Henry’s sharp words, Charlotte nodded. She didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t erase the doubt she felt toward Lucy. Lucy was definitely acting suspicious.

“For now, we’ll have to go back to the Bisset Pharmacy tomorrow.”

“I’m going too.”

“…Are you serious?”

Charlotte frowned slightly. “Of course I am.”

“Well, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

Charlotte raised her voice a little. Naturally, it was because she felt guilty. She hadn’t said a word to him about the syringe still hidden in her coat pocket. Strictly speaking, she was withholding evidence from an active investigation. Honestly, even she didn’t trust herself right now.

But Charlotte wanted to wait until she could be absolutely certain before she told him everything. If it really turned out that Lucy had done such a thing, Charlotte wouldn’t hesitate to hand her over to the police. The fact that Lucy was her friend wouldn’t matter at all. It was simply the right thing to do.

But not yet. Yes, Lucy was suspicious, but that alone wasn’t enough to call her guilty. There were others who seemed just as questionable. And besides, everyone has something they’d rather not reveal to others, even to their closest friend. Maybe Lucy had just been hiding something personal. They hadn’t spoken in years. It was sad, but perhaps Lucy now saw her as nothing more than an old friend.

Or maybe her habits had just changed. People rarely change easily, but so much time had passed that Charlotte couldn’t be sure. After all, her suspicion that Lucy had lied was only an intuition, not a fact. Without solid evidence, accusing someone would only make her look insane.

“No, that’s not what I meant….”

Flustered by Charlotte’s sharp tone, Henry waved his hands in a rush. He pointed toward the pile of documents resting on the seat beside her.

“It’s just… that paperwork. You seemed… in a hurry to finish it.”

Ah. Right. Charlotte slowly turned her head to stare at the stack of documents she hadn’t even gotten halfway through. Then she glanced at Henry and sighed deeply. Maybe she had been too harsh. A moment ago, he’d been talking to her kindly, and now his lips were pressed tight. He probably was a little hurt. She thought about apologizing, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

Henry also said nothing. He simply turned his head toward the window. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest in a steady rhythm.

Through the small crack of the open window, the wind rushed in, swirled gently around them, and drifted away again. Until the train arrived back in the capital, the heavy silence between them remained unbroken.