All Bedlam Courses Past (part two hundred one)

All Bedlam Courses Past

Chapter Eight

Things Relative

(part two hundred one)

“Miss Gremot probably does not mean tipped to,” Ebrach said. He had not named the hypocaust the Roman Baths, but had called a reading library the Unversaght Room, and never otherwise mentioned his benefactor.

“Mr. Phelan,” said Monaghan. “You would like to know if Miss Gremot is calling the fellow an opportunist, not to be leading the witness.”

“Miss Gremot is not a witness, properly,” said Phelan, properly.

Weem spoke, in almost a mumble, “Any rate, RN told me in specific terms, if you care to know, that he…” He reddened. “That he called it a Sisyphean task, wooing Miss Gremot.”

“Which he said in front of my face.”

“We are not getting very far,” Ebrach said, “but if it seems good to take refreshment, I will ring for Mrs. Koker.”

The time of death was set between 7:00 p.m., and 12:35 to 12:45 a.m., the ninth of June, and the tenth of June, 1890. Both times were supported. Arnulfa Zucker, Regina’s personal maid, snuffed her nightly lamp at seven, because her lady had a number of factors involved in the daily assemblage, which required marshalling, and Regina did not appear where others could see her without them. Arnulfa began her own morning at 4:00 a.m., an hour at which she always woke.

Mr. Demrose took meals with his wife; Mr. Demrose helped Regina himself, if there were stairs—

But that point, her interviewer had not been ready to establish.

Mr. Demrose, yes, he helped her also to go from her bed, in the matrimonial suite at Alarica, but at Alarica there was the elevator, for stairs. At hotels she, Mrs. Demrose, did not breakfast, but only in her room. She felt better, with her terrible bad foot, later in the day, and he, Mr. Demrose, might wheel her in one of the invalid chairs.

“Matrimonial suite? That doesn’t sound like Arnulfa.”

“My interpolation,” said Phelan. “You are acquainted with the young lady?”

“Hardly.”

“An ear, an ear,” grinned Monaghan.

“But you say that Mr. Phelan didn’t do the interviewing, and so he is speaking from his own notes.” Ebrach spoke.

“I am, sir. I have scribbled a bit from the lengthy transcriptions.”

“He picks and he chooses,” said Monaghan.

“What are you thinking, that she was poisoned?”

“In the best of good time, Miss.” Monaghan, pleased, and the only one among them still sampling from Mrs. Koker’s table, gave a pat to Phelan’s shoulder.

213

Bedlam

All Bedlam Courses Past (part two hundred two)

(2025, Stephanie Foster)