an eager voice from the doorway. The bright kitchen seemed to grow darker as Dr. Flammarion strolled into the room, took a cinnamon roll without asking, and sat down loudly.
“We were talking about Miss Knight,” one woman said quietly.
“Very worrisome,” the apothecary agreed, with his mouth full. “But at least her parents are
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resting comfortably. They were shocked to hear of the disappearance. I gave them an extra injec-tion of medicine so that they might pass the afternoon in a comfortable state of unhurried delirium.”
“What medicine is it, Doctor?” I asked.
Dr. Flammarion frowned at me. “You’re a curious young man,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Flammarion,” Theodora said. She had finished her cinnamon roll and was wiping her fingers on the photograph of the missing girl. “My apprentice has forgotten his manners.”
“It’s quite all right,” Dr. Flammarion said. “Curiosity tends to get little boys into trouble, but he’ll learn that soon enough for himself.” He offered me his nasty smile like a bad gift, and then said quickly, “The medicine I gave them is called Beekabackabooka.”
I have never been to medical school and am never quite sure how to spell the word “aspirin,”
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but I still knew that Beekabackabooka is not a medicine of any kind. It didn’t matter. Even without his revealing himself to be a liar, I knew there was something suspicious about Dr. Flammarion, and even without his tell- ing me, I knew the medicine he was giving the Knights was laudanum. I recognized the smell from an incident some weeks earlier, when peo-ple had tried to sneak some into my tea. This incident is described in my account of the first wrong question, on the rare chance you have access to, or interest in, such a report.
“It must be difficult to care for Mr. and Mrs. Knight all by yourself,” I said, and looked him in the eye. He blinked behind his glasses, and his beard tried harder to flee from his nasty smile.
“I’m not quite all by myself, young man,” he told me. “I have a nurse who is good with a knife.”
Theodora stood up. “I want to conduct a
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thorough search of the scene of the crime,” she said.
“What crime?” Dr. Flammarion said.
“What scene?” I asked.
“It seems likely a terrible crime has been committed,” Theodora said firmly, with no thought to how much that would upset the two women who cared for Miss Knight.
“As the Knight family’s private apothecary, I must say that I’m not sure a crime has been com-mitted at all. Miss Knight likely just ran away, as young girls often do.”
The two servants looked at each other in frustration. “She wouldn’t have run away,” one of them said, “not without leaving a note.”
“Who knows what a wealthy young girl will do?” Dr. Flammarion said with a smooth shrug. “In any case, I told Zada it was not worth alarm-ing the police.”
“Zora,” she corrected him sharply.
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“I’m sorry, Zora,” Dr. Flammarion said with a little bow that indicated he was not sorry at all.
“I’m Zada,” she corrected him again, “but it’s true. Dr. Flammarion stopped Zora from calling the police and suggested we call you instead.”
“The good doctor made a good choice,” Theodora said in a tone of voice she probably thought was reassuring, and then stood up and made a dramatic gesture. “Nevertheless, I would like to search the place Miss Knight was last seen. Take me to her bedroom!”
There was no arguing with S. Theodora Markson when she began to gesture dramati-cally, so I followed my chaperone as she followed Zada and Zora through the packed-up house, with Dr. Flammarion close behind me, his breath as unpleasant as the rest of him. Soon we were in a room I recognized from the photograph,
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which Theodora put down on a brand-new desk in order to rifle through the clothing in the closet. There was no sense in it. This was not the place Miss Knight was last seen. It was simply the place Zada and Zora had seen her last. The girl had driven off in a fancy auto-mobile. It was likely someone else had seen her afterward.
“This room isn’t packed up,” I said.
“Miss Knight wants to do it herself,” one of the women said, “but she hasn’t packed up anything but a few items of clothing.”
That made me ask a question that was closer to the right question than I knew. “What was she wearing when she left?”
Zada or Zora pointed to the photograph. “See for yourself,” she said. “We took that pho-tograph yesterday morning, at her request. It was a lucky thing. Now that photograph is all over town.”
I looked at the picture again. Nothing seemed
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familiar, but the pink hat looked out of place. “That’s an unusual cap,” I said. “Do you know where she got it?”
“Snicket,” Theodora said sternly. “A young man should not take an interest in fashion. We have a crime to solve.”
Dr. Flammarion smiled at me again, and I looked down at the desk rather than look at either my chaperone or this suspicious doctor. In the middle of the tidy desk was a plain white sheet of paper with nothing on it. No, Snicket, I thought. That’s not right. Here and there were tiny indentations, as if something had scratched at it. I leaned down to the desk and inhaled, and for the second time since I entered the tall pen-shaped tower, I smelled a familiar scent, or really two familiar scents mixed together. The first was the scent of the sea, a strong and briny smell that still came from the seaweed of the Clusterous Forest when the wind was blowing in the direction of Stain’d-by-the-Sea.
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The second scent took me a moment to identify. It smelled in a certain way that was on the tip of my tongue until I breathed it in one more time.
“Lemony,” I said, but I was not saying my name out loud. I took the piece of paper over to the bed stand, turned on the reading light, and waited a minute or two for the lightbulb to get good and hot. While I waited I looked around the room, and it occurred to me that Zada and Zora were wrong. The Knight girl had started
