Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity by Natalie Brianne (new ebook reader TXT) 📕

up, have champagne and chocolate and then argue? And where did Pennington go if the burglar, Selene, didn’t see him? Maybe he went after Molly to apologize. Perhaps he didn’t pluck up enough courage to actually go talk to her. Perhaps he came back after the burglary and then he checked his stash. He moved the glass from where he had left it after the fight so that he could check inside the piano. Finding whatever was in there missing, then he killed himself?

No. Because the smugglers knew about him and his death. They had something to do with it. How? She wasn’t exactly sure. But he hadn’t killed himself. That much was certain. The woman in the smuggling ring had mentioned that there was a security breach involving Pennington. So, he wasn’t a smuggler himself; he just found the grate and was curious.

But where was the money coming from? She leaned back in annoyance. This puzzle wasn’t coming together. The picture still wasn’t clear. She didn’t know where they would go from what they had discovered. She looked over at Byron who still slept. She yawned. The adrenaline was wearing off. She was tired, too. Maybe she could rest for a while. Byron wouldn’t be awake for a bit. She set her notes on the table and laid her head on the back of the chair.

She was vaguely aware of when Byron woke up. She could hear some rustling, some footsteps towards her, and then away again, and the opening of the journal. Somewhere in her memory all of that was there. She just didn’t remember falling asleep. The sounds of glass clinking in the kitchen woke her. She stretched and then went to investigate the noise.

Byron was tinkering with his chemistry set. From what she could tell he had separated the white particles from the black and brown particles. He had several piles of each and was testing them with different chemicals, she presumed in order to figure out what they were. She came in and leaned against the counter, he saw her, and smiled.

“Hello, Mira.” He frowned for a moment. “You are Mira, right?”

“Yes, Byron. I see you’ve forgotten again. Did you sleep well at all?”

“I don’t quite remember, but I feel generally awake. It would seem we had quite the exciting morning.” He gestured to the journal sitting at the far end of the counter.

“Yes. I suppose we did.”

“I just thought I would check up on what these powders were. There are six distinct solids in this sample.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I’ve tested several of the particles. I’ve found sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate, opium, silt, and what appears to be bone.” He pointed to each small pile as he went.

“From what I can tell, that cargo hold has been used for several years and over the years it has brought several different things across. The sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate lead me to believe that gunpowder and guns were likely to have been transported. There wasn’t as much opium, which makes sense as the bags would be sealed tight. I’m guessing the silt is simply what clings to the crates as they are being transported. The bone is a bit tricky as well; not as much of it, only a few fragments. I would guess ivory. It certainly isn’t human. My guess here is that it rubbed against the crates on the inside and the powder fell through the slats.” He looked up at her. She was in awe. He grinned.

“So, then they have transported guns, drugs, and ivory at some point?” she asked.

“Yes. They can get it into the country without worry for customs or taxes because the Horizon is only a passenger vessel. According to the public blueprints it wasn’t even supposed to have a cargo hold.”

“And they unload it under the cover of night so as not to draw suspicion?”

“Exactly. There is a high probability that the captain and the crew of the ship don’t even know what is below them. There is probably a ground crew here in London, and one over in France that come at night and access the hold.”

“And,” She scarcely could bring herself to think it. “This is a motive for murder.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned against the counter.

“My parents’ murder, that is. My father was the inventor. He would be overseeing the building of the airship. Uncle Cyrus, and Mr. Graham both mentioned that he usually worked on several projects at once. If he had left during construction and come back—”

“They could have finished the hold without him knowing. But he was murdered, which means he must have figured something out.” Byron finished.

Mira felt several parts of the puzzle coming together inside her head. A feeling of relief spread over her, but that feeling was quickly overshadowed by more questions.

“Except, what about Pennington? We may have uncovered a crime syndicate but how was he involved?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” He placed the powders into separate bags. “But what I do know is that I need to escort you home. It’s getting late and Nero must be getting worried.”

Mira looked back into the living room and out the window. The sun was setting. She nodded. “Alright.”

He placed the bags of powder into his satchel along with his journal. He headed for the door, and she followed. He offered his arm to her, which she took, and they walked towards her home.

“Tomorrow I think we should check back at the deceased’s rooms again. There might be something else we missed,” he said.

Mira nodded. He continued, “I’m going to stop by Scotland Yard before heading home this evening as well. It would be good to get a second opinion on these powders, and I’d like to find out if they caught those scoundrels.” He patted the top of her hand and looked deeply into her eyes, his gaze and tone turning serious.

“I’m just glad they didn’t injure you in any way. I’d never forgive myself if they had.”

“Byron, like I