The Pumpkin Lady

III: Bloat

"Oh, how stupid of me! I completely forgot to ask to borrow one of their bloodhounds!" Felix exclaimed, slapping his forehead in realization as he stepped out of the carriage.

"Why would we need something like that?" Dahlia asked, taking his hand and stepping out as well, "that never stopped you from solving cases like this before!"

"Yes, well, remember the aftershave smell I mentioned?" he began, taking his top hat in hand and clacking his cane against the sidewalk. "Well, simply judging by a majority of the London population, aftershave isn't quite something that a woman like her would be interested in using. That, and the fact that the smell of Pinaud aftershave was very faint, nearly overpowered by that of Bouquet di Violette, another type of perfume, especially used by ladies with a very expensive taste. If what I'm thinking is correct, it was very likely rubbed off on her from her suspected killer, since they clearly got close enough to her to be able to do that. It at least helps to narrow down the gender, and how wealthy he may be. Pinaud is rather common, and rich men tend to love to use toiletries that are hard to come by with the working class. If we are able to find where she was last seen, we could scour the area and potentially find something that the killer left behind. Give it to the hound, have it track the scent, and we narrow our search." He twirled his cane around as he explained his method.

Dahlia cocked a brow at him in response to that whole spiel. "Sir, do you ever wonder if your observations are a little...farfetched?"

"Hm... nope, not really." Felix replied nonchalantly. "Just something to ponder over, just in case our investigation leads us down that path." He faltered in his footsteps, unfolding the paper and examining it before looking to the building in front of them. It was a rather large townhouse squeezed between other homes similar to it, with eroded brick walls and a rusty doorknob. Despite these imperfections, the home still had a comforting and elegant feel to it. It was old and ugly, and yet still something that the working class could never even begin to imagine having for themselves. "Looks like we're here." Felix said, stuffing the paper back into his pocket before ascending the steps. Dahlia followed suite, eyeing the cat that sat in the window staring at them as Felix knocked on the door.

After a few moments of miscellaneous sounds from the other side, the door creaked open to reveal a spindly old maid. "Yes..?"

"Good evening, ma'am, we're with-"

"Oh, you're another one of those police boys, aren't you?" She interrupted, resting a hand on the doorframe.

"Er- yes, quite right, madam. We're investigating the, ahem, tragic death of Margaret Astley...?"

"Already?" the old lady asked, somberly shaking her head, "your other officer boys are still here, my employers were hardly given any time to grieve, I-"

"They're still here? Perfect, that will make this much easier. I understand your hesitation, madam, but these are very pressing matters. A potential killer could be out and about and, well, it would be beneficial to everyone if we did our best to figure this out while it's still fresh in everyone's minds." He leaned against the doorframe, his face just inches away from hers. "It'll only be for a moment..."

"Ohh, well..." the old lady glanced down at her feet, and then towards Dahlia. The sight of a lady as meek as her seemed to soothe her worries a little bit. Hesitantly, she opened the door more for them. "Very well but do be gentle. Mrs. Astley has been such a wreck..."

The two detectives entered the home, greeted first with the sight of a large staircase, complimented by decadent and intricately carved handrails and bannisters. Dahlia had no time to admire a living space so nostalgic to her, as the officers mentioned before finally exited the living room, where faint muffled sobbing could be heard.