Miss Charlotte’s Case Journal - Chapter 7

This time, even Henry stayed quiet. Living as an unwed mother was no easy fate. If May had simply been the baron’s mistress, the police might have believed she killed him to start a new life. But now that she was pregnant, everything changed.

“What could I possibly do in this condition? My entire future depended on the baron.”

Another tear slid down May’s cheek. The handkerchief in her hand was already soaked through and useless. Charlotte took out her own handkerchief and offered it to her.

“I was going to beg him to take responsibility, to pity me just a little. And if that wasn’t possible, I planned to leave for some quiet rural village where no one knew me, pretend to be a widow, and ask him for a bit of money so I could live. …But now that he’s gone, all of that’s gone too. What could I possibly gain from killing him?”

Charlotte and Henry exchanged glances. She doesn’t seem like the culprit. I think so too. Maybe she saw Robert Turobe doing something suspicious? I’ll ask.

Henry cleared his throat twice before speaking, “All right… then let me phrase it differently. Miss May, who do you think poisoned the baron?”

What are you doing? Charlotte grabbed Henry’s arm and whispered urgently into his ear.

“Why are you asking her something weird like that? I told you to ask about Robert Turobe!”

“My, Miss Céline, you don’t understand. No servant would ever accuse their employer’s family outright. You have to approach these things carefully.”

Thankfully, May seemed not to have heard their bickering.

“Ha, of course it’s Sir Lau.”

“Sir Lau?”

Sir Lau? The same golden-haired man I saw this morning? Charlotte tilted her head slightly, recalling his face. What about him?

“Sir Lau is madam’s devoted follower. Even though he’s a knight, he acts like her personal servant, doing all sorts of menial chores.”

“He doesn’t have any grudge against the baron, does he? What connection could there be between being loyal to the baroness and this murder?”

At Henry’s sharp question, May fell silent. She bit her lower lip several times, hesitating, then finally spoke, “Sir Lau… knows. …That I was the baron’s mistress.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte let out a short sigh. Then he could very well have had a grudge.

“I don’t know how he found out, but at some point, he started making my life miserable. When I finally confronted him about it, he said he knew everything about me and the baron, and that if I didn’t end it, he’d expose the whole thing.”

“And did you?”

“…No.”

Charlotte kept her mouth shut. Henry said nothing either. Whatever they were thinking, May’s face flushed slightly before she straightened up and spoke in a defiant tone.

“Anyway, ever since that happened, Sir Lau started acting disrespectfully toward the baron. He ignored his orders, and even when he had to obey, he did everything half-heartedly. He only followed the baroness’s commands.”

“Did the baroness know about your relationship with the baron?”

“…She never spoke to me directly about it. But….”

“But?”

“But, at some point, her gaze always… always felt a bit strange. 

“But from some point on, the madam’s eyes were always… strange. When she wasn’t smiling, her presence was frightening. Whenever she looked at me, it was always like that. She never acknowledged it openly for the sake of appearances, but I’m sure she knew.”

***

The interrogation ended that way. The two of them moved to the adjoining room to discuss the new information they had learned.

“How much of Miss May’s story do you believe?”

“Half, and half not.”

“…That’s a very irresponsible answer.”

“It’s also the most cautious one.”

Henry said that as he lifted a teacup still steaming faintly.

“In the end, we didn’t get anything about Robert Turobe.”

“But we did hear something else.”

“Do you suspect this Sir Lau?”

“I think he’s worth investigating.”

“What about Robert Turobe?”

Charlotte fired question after question. In the flurry, Henry tried several times to take a sip of tea, but every attempt failed. In the end, he couldn’t take a single drink and set the cup back on the table.

“He’ll need to be investigated separately as well. But we can’t summon him for questioning based solely on suspicion, not without evidence.”

“Why not?”

“…Because he’s a noble.”

Oh, right. A noble. Charlotte closed her mouth, feeling a bitter weight in her chest. Henry gave her a look that said I understand how you feel and pushed the cookie plate toward her. Charlotte picked one up and took a crisp bite. The buttery flavor filled her mouth.

Watching her in silence, Henry shrugged and continued, “My subordinates can look into his finances, and his other activities. In the meantime, we’ll talk to that knight. We can’t afford to overlook anything.”

Charlotte brushed the crumbs from her hands, almost nodding before stopping mid-motion. We?

“We?”

“Yes.”

“And who’s ‘we’ exactly?”

Henry answered casually, as if the question itself were strange, “You and me, Miss Ceylon.”

“…It’s Charlotte. No, that’s not the point. Why should I go with you?”

Charlotte raised her voice, unable to contain her disbelief. Why me? She had no intention of getting involved in the investigation any further. In truth, she had already gone against the director’s orders by interfering this much.

It was enough that she’d confirmed the police didn’t suspect Lucy. No matter which way the investigation went from here, as long as Lucy wasn’t the one at the end of it, that was all that mattered. Lucy could never be the culprit. Her husband—cheating trash though he was—had died, and that alone was enough to break her. If she also became the target of the police’s—albeit misguided—investigation, Lucy might collapse completely.

“I have no reason to go with you.”

Henry looked genuinely taken aback.

“Why, why not?”

His blue eyes wavered slightly, but Charlotte stood up with firm resolve.

“That’s the police’s job, not mine. I’m not an investigator; I’m a pathologist.”

“But Miss Ceylon, we worked together quite well just now….”

“I’ve got my own work to do. If you want me to cooperate officially, then file a request with our director.”

Of course, even if that request were made, the director would never approve it. Back when the morgue was under the Metropolitan Police, the department used to call in morgue staff whenever they pleased and make them run petty errands without a second thought. The director had endured all that humiliation firsthand. Now that the morgue was fully independent, she rarely agreed to send anyone unless it was an exceptional case.

Henry knew that well. He gave a resigned nod. After taking a sip of tea that had already gone cold, he pushed the cup aside. Then, with a lingering hint of regret, he quietly looked at Charlotte’s face.

Henry didn’t show it outwardly, but inwardly he was impressed by Charlotte’s sharp insight and interrogation skills. Not only had she identified the suspicious points surrounding Robert Turobe, but the way she had noticed the maid’s pregnancy was remarkable as well. Soon, they would have to summon Robert Turobe for questioning, and Henry thought that if Charlotte were with him, it might make the ordeal somewhat easier. Interrogating a ‘noble’ was always a tedious and nerve-racking task.

But if the person in question refused, there was nothing to be done. Just imagining the stress he would have to endure during the interrogation made Henry’s stomach ache already. He supposed a strong drink would take care of it later, as always. Though he felt guilty for pushing the burden onto his future self, he simply shook his head and stood up.

Charlotte rose as well, following him. When she noticed the black ink stains on the palm of his hand, she tilted her head slightly. Why is there ink on him? Most people wiped their hands clean right after writing, unless they’d been working with documents all day, so it didn’t make sense that the ink was from before.

Of course, he isn’t exactly an ordinary person. Remembering how Henry had stubbornly called her by the wrong name again and again, even after she’d corrected him several times, Charlotte twisted her lips into a faint, awkward smile. What was even funnier was that the names he used were always almost right.

Charlotte came up with a few possible reasons for the ink stains, then simply pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him. She had already given her regular one to Miss May, so the only thing she had left was an embroidered lady’s handkerchief with her name stitched on it.

“Wipe your hand.”

Henry took the handkerchief and stared at it silently for a moment before speaking in a serious tone, “Miss Charlotte, I appreciate the sentiment, but… well, we’ve only just met, and it feels a little soon to be exchanging such things. Perhaps we should get to know each other a bit more first….”

Charlotte blinked, confused at his sudden nonsense. Then, realizing what he meant, she frowned and snatched the handkerchief out of his hand.

“I’ll just throw it away, then.”

“I was only joking, Miss Charlotte. Please, allow me to wipe my hand.”

With a faint smile, Henry reached out and reclaimed the handkerchief. Charlotte had never found her own name, delicately embroidered on that piece of cloth, so unbearable to look at before. Lady’s handkerchiefs with one’s name stitched in gold thread were usually given as tokens between lovers, or as a subtle gesture toward someone they admired. It had been so long since she’d attended a social party that she’d forgotten all about it.

“So, why do you have ink on your hand?”

Charlotte decided she might as well ask the question that had been nagging at her while resigning herself to the fact that she’d have to discard the handkerchief later. It was a high-quality silk piece, decorated with gold thread, but since it had been ruined anyway, she figured she might as well satisfy her curiosity. Of course, since it was only ink, the skilled laundry maids at the mansion could probably restore it, but Charlotte conveniently ignored that bit of reasoning in her mind.