A Lesson in Chemistry With Inspector Bruce Read Online Free PDF Page B

flecked with copper? Her soft snort joined his laughter. “Are you encouraging me, Mr. Bruce?”
    “Always, Miss Rose.” He smiled, causing a secondary bit of heart flutter.
    She inhaled a deep breath and returned his smile. “Shall I tell you more about this rubber dressing?”
    He nodded eagerly. “I am fascinated by the inventive aspects of the scientific mind. Ingenious connections and the like. First off—what made you think of it?”
    Fiona rolled her eyes. “Not so ingenious. My father is a chemist. For many years now he has worked closely with a few of the physicians at Chelsea Hospital in the development of a variety of rubber surgical adhesives and dressings. I’m almost certain he could formulate something that would work for capturing fingerprints.”
    From Tottencourt Road to Piccadilly, he asked a number of questions and she answered as best she could. “Father keeps meticulous records. It’s possible he has a formula that could be easily modified for your purpose.”
    Her teacher stared at her. “I’d very much like to speak at length with your father—that is, Mr. Rose.”
    “Godfrey Rose. Both he and Mother are the proprietors of the pharmacy.” She tilted her head to glimpse the surroundings. “There we are, just ahead. Rose and Company. Corner of Brompton Square and Brompton Road.”
    The hansom pulled into the stone paved yard and rolled to a stop. She looked at him again and wanted to pinch herself. She had shared a cab with the most brilliant student at university. Who was now, by some fateful, magical stroke of luck, her instructor for the major. She exhaled a breath. “Do you have far to travel?”
    He tipped his hat toward the river. “I live a few blocks south of here. Number four Cheyne Walk. An ordinary flat but for a view of the Thames.” He climbed out first and helped her down. After a multiple pocket search, he produced a calling card. “Would you give this to your father? Ask him when I might pop in for a consult—at his convenience, of course.”
    She ran a gloved finger over the raised letters.
    I NSPECTOR A RCHIBALD B RUCE
    D IRECTOR OF F ORENSICS , S PECIAL B RANCH , S COTLAND Y ARD
    “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Ever since his stroke, he rarely works late.” She looked up. “Have supper with us.”
    “I couldn’t . . . impose.” He shook his head and backed away.
    Fiona joined his head shake. “Nonsense, Mr. Bruce. There is always plenty at table. Besides, I believe Father would enjoy your company . . . as would I.”
    His hesitated. “And Mrs. Rose?”
    “You’ve got two out of three, Mr. Bruce—you’ll have to take your chances with Mother.” She rolled her eyes, shuffling her feet impatiently. “It’s Tuesday. Which means shepherd’s pie with potatoes and turnips. There will likely be a filet of cod as well. And blackberry pie for dessert.” She tilted up the corners of her mouth. “I saw it cooling on the sill as I left for class.”
    “With clotted cream?” he asked.
    Fiona smiled. “I wouldn’t have my blackberry pie any other way.”
    He reached for her book bag and tugged gently. “Since you’re going to feed me.”
    ARCHIE SLUNG THE satchel over his shoulder and followed her into the attractive shop located on a quiet corner of the square. He glanced behind them and across the street. The pharmacy was no more than a block from Harrod’s.
    Rose & Company was no ordinary chemist’s shop. In fact, it was rather extraordinary in appearance. A pharmacological wonderland, one might say. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with drawers and shelves, and fronted by display cases—typical of course, except that the cabinetry was lacquered a soft black and decorated with brass knobs and gilt trim. And something aromatic and fresh filled the air. Archie sniffed. Rosemary, he thought.
    The shop windows featured glass jars filled with colored water signifying the body’s humors: blood, bile, and the like. Downright mundane—except