The Prisoner's Key Page 18

  I wasn't sure who steered whom out of the building, but we were both glad to be in the carriage and driving home.

  "You wanted me out of there because you plan on us speaking to Mrs. Stanhope," Matt said. "Don't you?"

  "No, Matt, I do not. I agree with Brockwell. If she lied to him, she'll lie to us. Unlike you, I don't think him capable of being beguiled by a woman. If he believed her story then she was either telling the truth or she's such a good liar that we won't be able to detect her lies either. So if we're going to question her, we need proof."

  "Very well. How do you propose to get it?"

  That was the problem. I didn't have a clue.

  I hoped occupying my mind would allow my inner thoughts to find a solution, but it seemed working on the language of magic occupied my mind too much. After an hour, I set aside my notes and settled at my writing desk, my horology tools at hand. This type of activity would be more soothing.

  I worked on my watch first, simply taking it apart and putting it back together again. Then I turned to the black marble clock. It was two minutes and twenty seconds too slow. That was unacceptable.

  I used one of the spells Chronos had taught me as I returned the inner workings to their rightful place then adjusted the hands. It was the first time I'd used a spell on this clock. Indeed, it was the first time I'd used the spell at all, except in practice. All other clocks and watches I touched seemed to simply work when I finished tinkering with them. This clock had proved obstinate. Perhaps the spell would fix it. I'd know by tomorrow.

  Peter arrived and informed me that Catherine was waiting in the drawing room. I packed away my tools and headed down the stairs, but I stopped just outside the drawing room door. It was open and Cyclops's resonant voice could be clearly heard.

  "I don't need your help," he said.

  "You don't want my help, Nate," Catherine said. "But you do need it. There's a difference."

  He grunted. "I won't let you get tangled up in this mess. Lord Rycroft is dangerous."

  I peeked around the corner and saw them standing very close together near the fireplace. Closer than mere friends.

  Catherine frowned up at him, chewing on her bottom lip. "Surely there's something I can do. Speak to Charity, perhaps?"

  "She won't listen to reason," he said. "India and Miss Glass have already tried."

  "But I must do something!"

  Cyclops took hold of Catherine's hand and she immediately closed her other hand over the top. "Listen to me." Cyclops's voice was all warm honey. I'd seen him use the same tone to soothe frightened horses and it seemed to work on Catherine too. "My greatest fear was that you wouldn't believe I was innocent. Knowing that you do is all I need from you. It's all I want."

  Catherine's lip wobbled. "Of course I believe you. There was never any doubt."

  He kissed her forehead and removed his hand.

  But Catherine wasn't ready to release him altogether yet. She blocked his exit as he tried to leave. Her moment of weakness had vanished, and the fire I knew she possessed in every bone had returned. "Why?" she asked.

  "Don't," he growled back.

  "Why do you say such wonderfully sweet things then push me away?"

  "You know why." He strode past her toward the door, spotting me. It was too late for me to pretend I hadn't heard them.

  She turned to us, hands fisted at her sides. "You're a coward, Nate."

  "India," he said in greeting as he passed me. He didn't stop or look back.

  Catherine threw her hands in the air. "How can he say such things then pretend he feels nothing for me?"

  "At least his words give you hope," I said, joining her. "It shows he cares."

  "He's infuriating."

  "Give him time."

  "I have given him time, India." She released a ragged breath and allowed me to pull her down to the sofa to sit beside me. "I've given him time and space in the hope he will come to his senses and admit there's something between us, something worth exploring, but he's too stubborn. What more can I do?"

  "Understand why he's keeping you at arm’s length."

  "I do understand. I just don't agree with his reasoning or like it."

  "He's doing it for you, Catherine. He's worried that being with him will cut you off from your family, from society. That's not the life he wants for you or your children. If that's not a sign of love then I don't know what is."

  My words did nothing to ease the tension in her fine features. "Ronnie wouldn't abandon me and nor would you or Matt, Duke or Willie. Even Miss Glass would support us. We have more friends than most. As to any future children, they will have two parents who love them and a wider family in all of you, too. That's far more than many poor children have in this city."

  I sighed. It was impossible to argue with her when she was right.

  Catherine didn't stay for long. Although she said she'd come to see me for a friendly conversation, I suspected she'd really come to see Cyclops. Having accomplished that, she returned to the shop and the home she kept above it with her brother.

  Another visitor replaced her, however. This one wasn't as welcome, particularly since he didn't greet me before shouting at me.

  Chapter 13

  "Tell your husband to call off his dogs, India," Chronos snapped before he'd even set a foot inside. "Do it now. I'm tired of being watched. I feel like a criminal."

  Bristow stepped between Chronos and me, blocking my line of sight. "Perhaps Mr. Steele would prefer to wait outside until Mr. Glass arrives. Fossett," he said to the hovering Peter, "fetch Mr. Glass from his study. Tell him Mr. Steele would like a word."

  "This is my granddaughter's house!" Chronos cried. "Let me in!"

  "Not until you calm down, sir."

  "India!"

  "It's all right, Bristow," I said. "Chronos will cause more trouble outside than in. Our neighbors get quite enough excitement from us already."

  Bristow stepped aside and Chronos moved past him into the entrance hall. He slapped his hat into the butler's chest. "Hang that up then run along and fetch me a drink. Something strong from Glass's liquor cabinet. Make it the good stuff. I deserve it after the last few days."

  "Chronos!" I cried. "Don't be childish. Bristow, set another place for dinner. It's too early for liquor."

  Chronos grunted as he watched the butler leave with his hat.

  "So you've spotted Duke," I said, knowing he was the one watching the house.

  "Not just him," Chronos said as he followed me to the drawing room. "All three of them. It's been going on for days. Tell your husband Charbonneau isn't with me and to call off the watch."

  "It's not Matt's fault. It was a joint decision between all of us."

  "Don't take the blame for him."

  "Nothing I say will change your mind, so if you won't be quiet, you may leave."

  "Before dinner?" He grunted again. "Think I'll stay."

  Matt entered, followed by Duke.

  Chronos jutted his jaw in Duke's direction. "So your spy followed me here. I should have known."

  Duke rolled his eyes. "I didn't follow you. Willie took over."

  "We're not interested in your movements, Chronos," Matt said with a calmness I envied. "We're interested in those of the person hiding in your house."

  "No one is in my house except me!"

  Matt hitched up his trouser legs and sat. He held out his hand to me with a smile and I sat beside him. His relaxed demeanor only seemed to rankle Chronos. He huffed and clicked his tongue and shook his head, refusing to sit down.

  It was Duke who finally spoke up. "Someone else is in there. I saw the curtains flutter when you weren't home this morning."

  Chronos finally chose a chair and lowered himself into it. "A draft."

  "It moved too much for a draft."

  "My housekeeper, then. She sometimes cleans when I've gone out."

  "She was out too. There was someone else in your house. Someone who knows I was watching."

  "Everyone kn
ows you're watching my house! The entire neighborhood is abuzz with it. None of you know the art of being inconspicuous. It's their American-ness," he said to me. "Cowboys in London are an oddity. Not to mention girls dressed as cowboys and giant pirates."

  I bit my lip to stop my smile from spreading. Chronos had just turned the conversation from heated to ludicrous. It was a timely reminder that he was all bluster and no substance. Matt knew it all along, hence his unruffled feathers.

  Chronos scowled at me. "Why are you smiling?"

  "I'm not."

  "This is not amusing." He sniffed. "It's an invasion of my privacy."

  "An invasion of your privacy would be if we stormed inside and searched your house. If you push us, we might very well do it."

  He sniffed again.

  "Is Fabian staying with you?" I asked. "Answer me or you are not welcome to stay for dinner."

  "You think I can be bought with food?"

  "Is Fabian staying at your house?"

  He got to his feet. "I don't have to listen to these accusations."

  "It's not an accusation, it's a question."

  He marched off, only to be met in the doorway by Bristow, carrying Chronos's bowler hat.

  "Don't leave without your hat, Mr. Steele."

  Chronos snatched it off Bristow. "It's damp."

  "It fell into a pail of water."

  "How?"

  "I can't recall."

  "It will keep its shape," I said to Chronos before his temper exploded. "It's well made."

  "I can't wear it home now, can I? I'm not putting a damp hat on my head." With a huff, he pushed past Bristow.

  "Give Charbonneau our regards," Matt called after him. "Tell him not to peer through windows again until we can clear his name."

  Chronos's only reaction was to slam the front door closed.

  I rubbed my forehead and sighed. "He may be an old man, but that gives him no right to be rude to the staff. Or us."

  Matt rubbed my shoulder and kissed my temple. "He's under some pressure."

  "You don't have to defend him," I said. "He's quite capable of doing it himself."

  "I can't believe he left before dinner," Duke muttered. "If I were him, I'd have saved the denials until after dessert."

  A letter from Mrs. McGuire arrived the following morning, asking for my help in going through the rest of her husband's business papers. She wanted someone who understood his affairs to explain the contracts to her, but she didn't want a man's help. She wanted me to go alone.

  I had a devil of a time convincing Cyclops and Duke that I would be all right when I read out the note to them and Matt in the sitting room.

  "She might be the murderer," Duke said.

  "I don't think she is," Matt said.

  Cyclops agreed with Duke. "You can't rule her out. India shouldn't go alone."

  "She's frightened of men," I told them. "She might not talk to me if I arrive with one of you in tow."

  "Then take Willie with you," Cyclops said.

  "She's not here and didn't come home last night."

  "She'll be at Brockwell's."

  "I ain't so sure," Duke said. "He doesn't seem to want the distraction during a big investigation. She probably found another bed to sleep in."

  "Duke!" I cried. "Willie may be a lot of things, but she wouldn't conduct a liaison with someone else while she's with the inspector."

  Cyclops and Duke exchanged looks.

  "I don't particularly like it," Matt said. "But I agree with you, India. You should go alone. But let it be known to Mrs. McGuire that she'll suffer my wrath if any harm should come to you."

  "I'll be sure to weave those words into the conversation."

  I smiled at him but he scowled back. "This is serious," he muttered.

  I kissed the top of his head. "I'll see you all later."

  Mrs. McGuire looked different, but I couldn't place the reason. She wore the same black crepe mourning dress that I'd seen her in twice, with a long black veil attached to a bonnet and cascading down her back.

  It wasn't until she began to speak that I realized what had changed. She fixed her gaze on me rather than lowering it, and she spoke with a steady, strong voice, not a tremulous one. Mrs. McGuire's confidence had returned, or it had at least begun to. Her brute of a husband hadn't destroyed it altogether.

  We went straight to her husband's office where tea and biscuits had been set out for us on the desk. There was no sign of the housekeeper, but I heard the thud of a door closing somewhere in the house.

  "I hoped you would come," Mrs. McGuire said, pouring the tea. "I know it's presumptuous of me, but I made the tea and set it all out in the hope you would."

  "Didn't your housekeeper make the tea?" I asked.

  If she thought it an odd question, she didn't let on. "I gave her the day off so we wouldn't be disturbed. She left some time ago."

  I accepted the cup and saucer only to put them down again. I didn't want her to notice my shaking hands. "Are we alone here?"

  She blinked at me. "Yes. Why?"

  "I heard a door closing just a few moments ago."

  "Oh. I didn't hear anything." She smiled. "Perhaps Mrs. Roston left just now. It would be like her to wait for your arrival. She worries about me being alone since Mr. McGuire's death."

  "She didn't worry about you before his death?"

  She leveled her gaze with mine over her teacup. "She didn't have the courage to worry. Not with my husband the way he was."

  "Yes. Of course."

  We both sipped.

  "Shall we get started?" I said, setting down the cup. "My husband doesn't want me gone for long. He'll send out a search party if I don't show up in a reasonable time." I laughed but she looked horrified.

  "What is a reasonable time?" she asked.

  I waved off her question. "It changes with the wind."

  "Then we must hurry. I wouldn't want your husband to…worry." She put down her cup too and picked up the top document from a pile on the desk. "I removed these from my husband's filing cabinets. They appear to be contracts for his clients. I hoped you could explain some of the terms to me. It's all so complicated."

  "I'll try," I said, accepting the document.

  She sat alongside me, and I told her what some of the phrases meant. It wasn't too complicated. The terms were clear and not bogged down by heavy legal jargon. Mrs. McGuire should have been able to work out most of it herself.

  "I know you think I'm stupid," she said when I explained a particular clause for the second time.

  "Not at all," I said.

  She lifted a hand and I reeled back, but she only touched her forehead before lowering it to her lap again. Thankfully she hadn't noticed my reaction.

  "I wasn't educated," she told me. "I could read only a little when I married, just enough to run a household with the help of a housekeeper. Mr. McGuire didn't tell me anything about his business affairs. He said I wouldn't understand." She lifted her hand again, this time passing it across her jaw, as if touching the ghost of a bruise.

  I offered her a comforting smile. "A lack of education doesn't mean you're stupid. You simply weren't given the opportunity to expand your knowledge, and I'm sure your husband didn't encourage you to learn."

  Her eyes swam with tears. "He said I didn't need to know anything except how to be a good wife. But I failed in that too, in his eyes. We never had children," she added.

  I thought it just as well that a cruel man like McGuire never fathered children, but it would be unkind to say so to his childless widow, so I changed the subject.

  "Did you visit the lawyer whose name was on that card we found?"

  She nodded. "He was my husband's lawyer. He says I am the beneficiary of my husband's will. Everything comes to me now. This house, his belongings, and all the money people owe him."

  "As well as any debts he owes to others."

  "The lawyer mentioned as much, but he didn't know of a debt. I was hoping to find details of it amongst al
l this paperwork, if a debt exists at all."

  "Our inquiries would suggest there is one, and it was called in suddenly."

  She surveyed the papers. "Then we'd better find out if it was paid or not."

  I forgot my reservations about Mrs. McGuire by the time we'd finished with the documents from the filing cabinet. She seemed genuinely in need of my help to explain the terms of the contracts and to understand her new financial position. If the housekeeper had still been in the house when I arrived, I was quite sure she left when I heard the door close. Mrs. McGuire had most likely been telling the truth when she said the housekeeper had stayed until she knew her employer was safe with me. Considering what the widow had been through, it was understandable.

  "That's it," I said, placing the last contract on the pile. "Are you sure there are no more documents in the filing cabinet?"

  "Quite sure, but you may check for yourself."

  I rifled through each drawer while Mrs. McGuire watched on from the study doorway. There were no more documents. I then opened each of the desk drawers, but found nothing. I sat back on my haunches on the floor, and looked around the room.

  "If I wanted to keep something secret, I would hide it," I said. "Your husband was in a dangerous business, Mrs. McGuire. It's possible that the man he owed was ruthless, and some of the men who owed him money were also undesirable characters."

  "Gamblers," she said with a nod at the pile.

  "He must have a hiding place either here or elsewhere. Was there another room in the house where he went and did not want anyone to follow him?"

  She shook her head. "This was his sanctuary. He was in here all the time when he was home, except when he ate and slept."

  "What about outside the home? A deposit box at a bank, for example."

  "I suppose one might have existed but we've found no paperwork or a key, and the lawyer didn't mention one."

  The information had to be in this room. I crawled under the desk and checked the underside. Nothing had been nailed to it and I couldn't see any extra partitions. I crawled out again.

  "Help me up, please, Mrs. McGuire. We're going to tear this place apart."

  She assisted me to my feet then glanced around the room. "Where do we start?"