Ch.BONUSSide Story – Clarice Holmes, The Leaden Study (6)

Clarisse raised her finger right in front of the man’s face.

“You opened a locked door and went inside? Does that mean Desiree didn’t lock the door? That’s impossible. Desiree is a very popular person who hates being disturbed, so he usually keeps his doors locked.

I’ve seen too many cases where the first person to report a crime was the perpetrator. People trying to escape suspicion by using their not-so-clever minds. So tell me. Why shouldn’t I conclude that you, the first to report this incident, killed Desiree?”

The man panicked. Tears welled in his eyes while blood trickled down his cheek. Clarisse tightened her grip.

“There was someone else! Really! There really was someone else there!”

The man was desperate. White foam formed at the corners of his mouth.

“She had a short bob with some gray hair and a determined-looking face. She wore a coat like laborers wear, but underneath she had on an expensive riding shirt and pants, and she wore an emerald ring.

She looked to be in her forties or fifties. I also remember she was clutching a red handbag tightly to her chest. That’s all I know!”

“What was this woman doing?”

“She was sitting in the living room, her legs giving out, trembling! She gave me her ring and begged me to keep quiet, to pretend I hadn’t seen her. She took my address and said she’d give me additional compensation if I kept my mouth shut… Ah. She was such a nice person!”

“Give me the ring.”

Strazinski brought the ring. Clarisse examined it with piercing eyes. There were initials engraved on it. She could guess whose it was.

“Fine. Did that woman report it? Or did you?”

“I did.”

He didn’t seem to be lying. Clarisse pocketed the ring and left the house without looking back. The man slumped to the floor.

* * * * *

Club Diogenes.

It was once famous for its peculiarities. Private gatherings weren’t allowed, and conversation between people was forbidden, but it was a place for cultured individuals who could enjoy comfort as long as they followed the rules.

But business policies always change, and now the place is filled with talkative people who enjoy conversing late into the night.

That’s not to say vulgar conversations take place. Distinguished guests who could elevate the club’s status were always free to enter, while others could gain admission by presenting imperial pounds or coal vouchers of equivalent value.

However, only a select few could rent the “special rooms.” People like Clarisse Holmes and her conversation partner, for instance.

“Mrs. Hilda Joyce.”

Hilda, the wife of Foreign Minister William Joyce, looked at Clarisse with displeasure. It was a natural reaction, having received a sudden phone call and being made to come to an unwanted place.

“As you asked, I made up an excuse to my husband and came. Now tell me what this is about.”

“You have the letter, don’t you?”

A spasm crossed Hilda’s face. Clarisse responded in an utterly businesslike tone.

“What I want to know is exactly what happened. I’m curious how you became entangled with someone as low-quality as Desiree.”

“Why do you think I have the letter? No—”

Her pitiful excuse was cut short by the ring Clarisse pushed toward her. A wedding ring with an emerald. With engraved initials.

“You must have been in quite a state. So much so that you thought to give away your wedding ring.”

“It was the most valuable thing I could think of in that moment.”

Hilda covered her face with her hands. Clarisse pushed the ring forward with an audible sound. The noblewoman with reddened eyes revealed the truth.

She met Desiree because of a gathering. Six months ago, at a meeting of noblewomen at Club Diogenes, they had invited an entertaining Frenchman. That was Desiree.

Desiree, eloquent and witty, captured the hearts of the noblewomen. But recently, he suddenly began blackmailing her. It was about a letter Hilda had written in her youth.

“It was the kind of letter that should never leave the house, not even the desk drawer. The kind filled with intimate metaphors. Desiree threatened to send it to my husband.

I won’t go into detail about the letter’s contents. It was the sort of thing one might write when young, full of expectations, fantasies, and distorted knowledge. The problem was that I… had sent such a letter to someone who should never have received it. That’s what Desiree was fixating on. Ah, do I really need to explain this much?”

“No. That part isn’t important. What matters more is that it was your weakness and Desiree exploited it. So, did he order you to steal your husband’s letter?”

“Yes. He said he heard from a Foreign Office employee and ordered me to steal that precious letter. He handed me an empty envelope and told me to switch them… The outer envelope had something written in Italian.”

“When did you make the switch?”

“Two days ago.”

Now everything was clear. The poor minister believed the letter was safe just by looking at the envelope. Never dreaming his wife had stolen it.

“Did you look at the letter? The one in the Italian envelope.”

“I only saw the characters showing through the back of the letter. It was full of numbers… written in binary data. I couldn’t read it. I didn’t particularly want to either.”

“Where is the letter?”

Hilda handed over her red handbag. Inside a paper envelope, the letter was neatly folded.

Now Clarisse understood why the Italian secretary had described it as quite “emotional.” It’s courtesy and convention to write such letters in ordinary language.

Even between hostile nations, one doesn’t send messages written in binary code of 0s and 1s. Doing so was clearly meant to mock and point out that the Queen was a machine, not a human.

Clarisse tucked the letter away.

“So what happened next?”

“Desiree gave me a copy of his front door key. He demanded I place it neatly in the living room cabinet. He threatened me that if the letter wasn’t there when he returned from his performance… So I did as he ordered.

But seeing my husband in distress, I couldn’t bear it anymore. So I went to find him this morning. Not empty-handed. I planned to shoot him with my self-defense pistol and then kill myself. But.”

The noblewoman trembled like a wet bird.

“But when I opened the locked door and entered, when I opened the room door, he was in that state… I was so shocked I couldn’t even scream. I grabbed the letter from his desk and left, but my legs gave out and I simply couldn’t go on. And just then, some man opened the front door and came in.”

“You mean Strazinski.”

“The rest is just as you already know. I promised Strazinski compensation and fled. From what you’ve said, it seems he…”

“To entrust your future to such a person, how foolish. He’s a weak man. And the weaker they are, the more despicable they can become. What did you see in him that made you so readily give up your wedding ring?”

The noblewoman just wept with her head bowed.

“I love my husband. I wanted to protect this family. If I had known my husband before writing that letter, I would never have sent it. That’s the truth.”

Clarisse silently tapped the table. It was past 10 PM. There was still time. Time to turn things around.

“Let me confirm one thing. Madam, you are truly foolish and naive. If such a thing happened, you should have sought help even at the cost of losing face. But you didn’t. Why?”

“Because I was afraid. Afraid that if my husband learned about my past, I would lose this family.”

“And going to Desiree this morning with a gun?”

“Because I saw how much my husband was suffering and realized how wrong I had been.”

“Weren’t you afraid of Desiree?”

“I was. He’s a very wicked person. But rather than see my husband suffer, I thought it better to kill him and then myself.”

There was a certain resolve visible on the noblewoman’s face. A faint smile appeared on Clarisse’s face.

“You wouldn’t normally have done that, would you?”

“Of course not! Doing something so stupid, and then having my legs give out after going there intending to kill him. I was… I was scared.”

Clarisse folded her hands. It was time to render judgment.

“I do not sympathize with you.”

The noblewoman’s face seemed to crack.

“However, that answer just now has been of great help to me. Since I’ve received unexpected assistance, I shall duly provide an answer. First, put on your ring. You need to go to the mansion.”

“Now?”

Clarisse glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Because if we go now, there’s still time to turn things around.”

* * * * *

The Foreign Minister apparently couldn’t sleep. Even from outside the window, they could see him pacing around the living room in his slippers.

“Hilda! Darling!”

Hearing the doorbell, the minister rushed out and embraced his wife. Clarisse gave a slight nod in greeting.

“Minister, it was I who kept your precious wife. Let me clarify that I didn’t call her as a suspect, but as a reference. We needed testimony from a different angle about the bedroom and household matters.”

“I understand, I understand. It can’t be helped. It was something agreed upon beforehand.”

“Agent Clarisse helped me a lot.”

The minister embraced his wife tightly again. Clarisse gave an awkward smile.

“But Minister, they say it’s darkest under the lamp. No matter how I think about it, I believe it’s best to look again in the place where something was lost.”

“We’ve already rummaged through the drawers and it wasn’t there…”

“Haven’t you had the experience where you can’t find something for the life of you, but someone else finds it easily? And I am the British Empire’s foremost expert in searches. I know it’s presumptuous, but could you show me your bedroom?”

The ministerial couple, though flustered, led her to the third-floor bedroom. At first glance it looked modest, but each piece of furniture was made of expensive imported hardwood. It even had a warm-air furnace.

“Right here, I put it in the desk drawer. But the contents have completely disappeared…”

“Ah, darling.”

Hilda slumped into a chair. It was easy to tell this was an act to buy time. The minister quietly embraced his wife and whispered words of comfort—just long enough for Clarisse to take the letter from her pocket and slip it under the carpet.

“Hmm. How strange. Could it have fallen into a gap in the desk?”

Clarisse pretended to examine the desk from various angles. The minister came over to look at the crevices with her. Clarisse discreetly pulled the carpet with her foot.

“Huh…?”

The minister let out a cry and frantically lifted the carpet.

“This is it! It’s here! My God, darling, darling! We’re saved! We’re saved now! My God, you were right! You were right! Why didn’t I think to look here again…”

Hilda burst into tears and embraced her husband. The minister, with the letter in one hand and his wife in his arms, cried and laughed. Clarisse left the minister’s house with a smile.

The clock showed 11 PM.