The Case of The Toxic Tonic (Bow Street Society Book 4) by T.G. Campbell

Author:T.G. Campbell [Campbell, T.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-08-30T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Miss Trent, are you here with the Bow Street Society?!” Mr Baldwin shouted from behind the arms of two constables. He, alongside journalists from rival newspapers, was penned in between the constables and a Black Maria parked adjacent to the pavement’s edge. Though he had no idea as to how his fellows had discovered the existence of the Walmsley Hotel murder, Mr Baldwin was determined to get an exclusive. Noticing Inspector Conway at the door, then, he shouted, “Inspector! Inspector, have you called in the Bow Street Society to help you?! What do you think that says about the police’s ability to capture criminals?!”

“I’m here to hold a meeting with Mr Elliott and the others,” Miss Trent replied to Conway as she placed a hand upon her waist. Heightened by the tight corset worn beneath, the slender silhouette of her form was further defined by the rich, Cherry Red colour of her high neck, silk bustle dress. A plain, cropped cotton jacket of the same colour followed the line of her form to perfection. Its broad, silk, pointed lapels were flush against her bosom. The majority of her chestnut brown hair was pinned atop her head with minute, silver pins topped with Cherry Red flowers. The remainder of her curled hair hung between her shoulder blades. Given the cold temperatures due to the early hour, she wore black, leather gloves and shin-high, laced, black leather boots with a thick high heel.

Conway furrowed his brow. “What?” Glancing at Caulfield, then—who stood at his shoulder—he closed the door ajar until it pressed against his side and gripped the doorframe. Lowering his voice, he said, “You can’t come in here; it’s a crime scene.” He lowered his voice more. “You don’t go to crime scenes.”

“Circumstances have obliged me to make an exception on this occasion,” Miss Trent replied in a hushed voice. “Besides,” Miss Trent pulled at each finger of her gloves to remove them as she spoke at her normal volume, “As I understand it, only the massage parlour and Mrs Belrose’s suite are significant. I intend to use one of the hotel’s meeting rooms.”

Conway frowned, glanced sideways despite knowing Caulfield couldn’t see his face, then over Miss Trent’s shoulder at the horde of journalists, and finally met Miss Trent’s eyes with a resigned expression. Taking in a slow, yet silent, breath, he then released it in as loud a sigh as he could muster. “Miss Trent…” He straightened and gripped the door’s edge. “…I’ve had no sleep, I’ve got a murderer wanderin’ ‘bout the place, and the press bayin’ for blood. I’m in no mood for more meddlin’ in my case.”

“Then I demand to speak with Mr Walmsley.”

“That won’t do you any good—” He was interrupted by Miss Trent’s sudden movement forward, however. Stepping into her path, he growled, “You’re not comin’ in!”

“Is the Bow Street Society here at the Yard’s request?!” Another journalist shouted as he and the others tried to peek over and around the constables at the scene unfolding at the hotel’s doors.

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