The Toymaker's Curse (Glass and Steele Book 11) Read online

  The following day was uneventful as we waited for Cyclops to return from work. I went shopping in the morning with Aunt Letitia and listened in on conversations. Magic was on many lips but opinion was divided about whether it existed or not. A popular theory was that it was a hoax the newspapers were playing on the public to sell more copies. Considering the newspaper that had first implied the automaton murdered Trentham was of the gutter variety, that theory could gain momentum.

  I hoped so. It would help our cause.

  Matt greeted us with enthusiasm when we returned. I quickly realized it wasn’t because he had something to report, but because he needed the distraction. He was bored at home with only Duke and Willie for company. They went out after lunch while Matt spent some time with Aunt Letitia until she left to rest in her room.

  Shortly after that, Cyclops arrived home with Brockwell, even though it was too early for them to have finished work. Going by their solemn expressions, they had news.

  I poured tea from the warm pot and invited them to sit.

  Cyclops accepted the cup and cradled it in his big hand. “I asked my supervisors if they remembered the constable from his training days, the one who disappeared on the night of Mrs. Trentham’s escape. None did.”

  I almost dropped the teapot. It wasn’t the answer I’d expected. “But he was a trainee mere weeks ago.”

  “He wasn’t a trainee at all,” Cyclops went on. “Brockwell had them check their records. The constable was never there.”

  Matt sat forward. “So how did he come to be assigned to Scotland Yard?”

  “His papers and letter of recommendation from the academy are on file,” Brockwell said. “I saw them myself just this morning. Everything was in order. The signatures looked authentic, the letterhead and forms all correct.”

  “Good forgeries,” Cyclops said.

  “This was not a simple, amateur operation. It was planned weeks in advance and meticulously carried out.” Brockwell sounded impressed. “The person or persons behind it knew what they were doing.”

  “Coyle,” Matt growled.

  “Or the government,” I said. “They gained just as much as he did from Mrs. Trentham’s disappearance.”

  “I’m not so certain. They would probably prefer it if she blamed Coyle in the trial rather than disappear altogether and leave the public wondering. Her sudden death means the journalists will ask awkward questions, just like we are. But if she went to trial, those questions could have been answered in the government’s favor. They could convince her to say whatever they wanted by offering her a lenient sentence.”

  I must have gone a little pale because Matt approached and crouched before me. He gently clasped my hands and rested them on my knees.

  “You would prefer it if the government were to blame for her murder?” he asked.

  “I…I don’t know. Just thinking about Coyle being that ruthless gives me chills.”

  “We’ve known for some time that he’s not a good man.”

  “It feels different now.”

  “Yes.” His thumbs rubbed my knuckles. “I need to warn Hope. We’ll visit her now.”

  “That’s not wise,” Brockwell said. “Coyle might be there.”

  Matt rose. “Hope is my cousin. I might not like her, but I have a duty to protect her if I can. If Coyle is there then good. I want him to know that we’re aware of what he’s doing. You don’t have to come, Inspector.”

  Brockwell slowly sipped his tea until the cup was empty then he placed it gently on the saucer. “Is it all right if I stay here until Willie returns home?”

  “Be our guest,” I said.

  Matt and Cyclops exited the room but I remained behind to have a word with the inspector. “How are things between you and Willie?” I asked.

  “Well.” He exhaled heavily and settled back into the armchair. “She does her own thing and I do mine. Sometimes our paths coincide.” It sounded like a business transaction.

  “But are your affections engaged?”

  “Yes, as are hers.”

  That was a relief to hear. If he’d answered in the negative, I could never trust my instincts again.

  “I know we’re unconventional,” he went on, “but we like it this way, for now.”

  “For now? So you see a future where that might change? Perhaps you’ll want something more…secure?”

  “You mean marriage?” He chuckled. “I don’t believe in gypsy fortunes. I believe in human nature, and that is not predictable.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “Perhaps we’ll marry one day, and perhaps we won’t. That’s the beauty of life, India. We never know what’s going to happen in the next chapter.”

  Chapter 14

  Lord Coyle was indeed at home, and Hope too. While we waited for the footman to fetch his lordship, we were able to speak with Hope alone. Cyclops remained by the door to keep watch while Matt took a seat beside her on the sofa. She looked delicate next to him with her lithe, slender frame and fragile beauty. It was easy to think her weak and in need of saving, but I knew better. I thought Matt did too, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “We don’t have long,” he said. “So please listen to what I have to say without interruption. You’re about to learn some truths about Coyle and his endeavors.”

  “I know what he is, Matt.” At least she didn’t pretend to be the damsel in distress.

  “You told us he doesn’t physically harm you, but there are other forms of harm. Is he cruel to you?”

  She touched the large diamond ring on her finger. “He can be generous.”

  “But kind?”

  Her gaze slid away. It fell on me. “Our relationship is not like yours, if that’s what you mean. We cannot all be so fortunate.”

  Matt clicked his tongue in frustration at her vague response. “I meant it when I said I can help you. If you ever need anything, please come to me. As your cousin and the Rycroft heir, it’s my duty—"

  “Don’t talk to me about duty,” she snapped.

  Matt sat back as if she’d pushed him. He wasn’t used to having such an offer flung in his face. Usually women readily accepted his assistance.

  “He’s trying to help you,” I said. “This is not his fault.”

  Her lips thinned. “This marriage is no one’s fault, India, and I am not a helpless victim. I get something from this marriage. More than Coyle, I can assure you.”

  “And does he remind you of that?”

  She blinked hard.

  Cyclops cleared his throat and moved away from the door. A few moments later, Lord Coyle entered. He paused in the middle of the room and surveyed our faces. He knew something had transpired in his absence. No doubt he would try to find out from Hope later.

  Instead of occupying his usual seat in the armchair, he moved to stand behind her. He settled a hand on her shoulder. It was the hand that held his cigar. She touched her nose then turned her face away. The smoke drifted into her hair and a sprinkle of ash fell on her sleeve.

  “Another visit from my favorite magician,” Lord Coyle said jovially. “To what do I owe the pleasure this time, Mrs. Glass?”

  While I’d assumed Matt would do most of the talking, since Coyle addressed me, I had to answer. I met his gaze. “We wanted to tell you that we’re aware of your involvement in the Trentham murder.”

  “I told you, that was nothing to do with me.”

  “We know you placed one of your men in Scotland Yard. He made it look like Mrs. Trentham used magic on the automaton to aid her escape but, in truth, it was all his doing.”

  “What makes you think he works for me?”

  “No one else could be behind the escape. The government wanted her alive to testify. Only the real killer benefits from her death.”

  “Death?” Hope echoed. “She’s dead?”

  Lord Coyle’s thumb stroked her throat. She stilled. “There, there. Don’t upset yourself, my dear.”

  The column of her throat moved with her
swallow, but she otherwise remained utterly still.

  “Mrs. Trentham died from a gunshot wound to the head,” Matt said. “There’s no doubt in our minds that she was shot to stop her from admitting who was behind the murders of her husband, his first wife, and Mrs. Mirnov. If Mrs. Trentham was allowed to testify, she would implicate the person who orchestrated the murders to save herself.”

  Coyle grunted. “Perhaps she escaped of her own accord. Perhaps the constable who helped her escape was her lover or a paid accomplice.”

  “I did not say he was a constable,” I pointed out.

  Coyle lifted the cigar to his lips. “A guess.”

  Hope took the opportunity of being released to shift along the sofa. She stared straight ahead, her face white, her breathing shaky. She turned slowly to face her husband. “Did you do it?” she whispered. “Did you assist in her escape then have her killed to silence her?”

  Lord Coyle puffed on his cigar. Smoke billowed from his nose and mouth like a dragon. “You never used to believe everything you’re told. That’s what I liked about you. You questioned everything. You considered things from all angles before making a decision. Have you forgotten how to do that, my dear? Has marriage to me made you too comfortable?” He removed his cigar from between his lips and studied the tip. “Shame.”

  Hope pressed a hand to her stomach and turned her back to him. She stared down at the rug.

  “Can I expect a visit from that idiotic policeman?” Coyle asked.

  “We have no proof,” Matt said. “Not without the constable.”

  Coyle grunted. “I read the newspapers. How convenient for the government that Mrs. Trentham is blamed instead of magic.”

  “Convenient for many.”

  Coyle pointed his cigar at Matt. “In that, we agree. But I assure you, Glass, I didn’t murder anyone, nor did I orchestrate the murders. It must have been all Mrs. Trentham. She planned the murders and carried them out in the hope Mirnov would marry her and have children with her. It was a gamble, if you ask me, considering he had no children by his first wife.” He tugged on the bell pull. “But some people do enjoy playing a risky game to get what they want, in my experience. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

  The butler entered and we rose to leave.

  Hope did too. “I’ll see you out.”

  Coyle grasped her arm. “Stay. Keep me company.”

  She slowly sank onto the sofa again. With the cigar wedged between his lips, Coyle rested his hand on her shoulder again. Hope winced.

  Matt hesitated. He wanted to rescue Hope, but he knew there was nothing he could do unless she requested his assistance. Hope wasn’t willing to seek his help.

  Not yet.

  It was my idea to visit Mr. Mirnov next. If Coyle was right, and Mrs. Trentham murdered her husband and Albina to marry Mirnov, he must have had some notion. Now that she was dead, I hoped he would admit it.

  Cyclops sat beside Woodall on the driver’s seat to better see our surroundings, while Matt kept his gaze glued to the view through the rear window. When we arrived at Brick Lane, both declared that we had not been followed. Even so, my nerves stretched thin as we walked briskly through the market.

  A hawker stepped out in front of me, shouting, “Get your chestnuts here!” It was enough to send my heart crashing against my ribs.

  We found Mr. Mirnov occupying his usual place at the end of the market. He stood by his cart, his back to us, rearranging a row of toy soldiers. A small boy hovered nearby. He gazed longingly at the soldiers and took a step forward, only to stop and glance warily at Mr. Mirnov.

  “Come closer,” Mr. Mirnov said. “You can play with them.”

  The boy hesitated.

  “Don’t be afraid of this. I won’t hurt you.”

  I couldn’t see what he pointed to when he referred to “this.”

  “Mr. Mirnov,” Matt said.

  Both Mirnov and the child turned to us. The child took one look at Cyclops, gasped, and fled. But Cyclops was too stunned by the gruesome sight of Mirnov’s face to care. We all were.

  Mr. Mirnov touched the skin near the long cut on his cheek. The sutures made him look like the monster from the Mary Shelley novel. “You’re as bad as the children,” he said wryly.

  “Shouldn’t that be covered with a bandage?” Cyclops asked.

  “It doesn’t stay on. You, of all people, shouldn’t stare like that.”

  Cyclops fingered his eye patch and looked away.

  “What happened?” Matt asked.

  “My wife’s family decided it was time that I pay for murdering my wife.” He spat the words out as if they were bitter. “It’s better than losing a limb, I suppose. Or my life.”

  I gasped. “You think they’ll try to kill you?”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t already. Romany law says an eye for an eye.” He went to touch the wound, but stopped himself. “This injury means they’re not sure of my guilt. If they were, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “We know you didn’t kill your wife, and we can inform them, if you like.”

  He stared at me, his mouth ajar. “Yes! Please, inform them! But how do you know it wasn’t me? Did someone else confess?”

  “We need you to confirm something first,” Matt said. “Tell us about your acquaintance with Mrs. Trentham.”

  Mirnov leaned back against the cart. “I read about her arrest.” He heaved a sigh. “I suppose it’s only right that I confess now. I’ve met her on several occasions. The last time was when you saw us at the Rose and Crown. As you’ve probably guessed, we weren’t discussing business.”

  “Were you discussing marriage?” I asked.

  “No! Her husband had just died. Now that I know she killed him, I suppose it wouldn’t have been a surprise if she had suggested it, but at the time, I would have been shocked. I had no idea she murdered him. No idea.” He rubbed his chin but got too close to the wound and winced. “Good lord, she could have killed me next if we’d married.”

  Matt told him that she’d killed Mr. Trentham because of his infertility, and that she’d probably planned his murder for some time. “She wanted magician children. She was a toymaker magician too. Did you know that?”

  He nodded. “She told me but said it was a secret. Only her husband knew. She even told me of her desire to have children one day.”

  “Magician children?” I asked.

  “She just said children.” He shook his head. “I cannot believe she killed him because of his infertility.” He frowned. “Wait, you say she wanted magician children. Are you implying she killed my wife too? So that she could then marry me after she became a widow?”

  “We believe so,” I said gently. “She committed the murders several months apart to avoid suspicion. I’m so sorry.”

  He leaned more heavily against the cart, his shoulders stooped. The realization of how he’d been unwittingly involved in murder had begun to sink in. “My God.”

  It was quite a lot to take in and we let him digest it before we continued. What we said next was going to be another shock.

  “We have another suspect, however,” Matt went on after a few moments. “Someone who may have either committed the murders himself or coerced Mrs. Trentham. Someone who wanted to see the toymaker lineage continue.”

  Mr. Mirnov straightened. “Who?”

  “You don’t need to concern yourself with that. But to get a clearer picture, we need one answer from you.”

  “Go on.”

  “You say Mrs. Trentham never mentioned marriage to you in all your acquaintance, but did she flirt with you?”

  His face flushed. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Quite strongly, in fact.”

  Matt, Cyclops and I exchanged glances.

  “Why? What does that mean?” Mr. Mirnov asked.

  “It means Mrs. Trentham did indeed kill your wife,” Matt said. “I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Mirnov squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into the sockets. His chin wobbled and his breathing became
ragged. We gave him a moment to gather himself then said our goodbyes.

  “Wait,” he called as we walked off. “You said you’d inform the Shaws for me. Is that a promise?” He indicated his wound. “I don’t feel like doing it myself.”

  “Of course,” Matt said.

  “Thank you. Be careful of the dog. This isn’t my only injury, it’s just the one you can see.”

  Dear lord.

  Matt placed a hand to my lower back and steered me between the market stalls.

  “So it wasn’t Coyle,” I said when we reached our waiting carriage. “Mrs. Trentham acted on her own and tried to implicate him, just as he claimed, otherwise she wouldn’t have flirted with Mirnov.”

  “Coyle and Mrs. Trentham could have acted together,” Matt pointed out. “I have no doubt she wanted to marry Mirnov and bear his children, but I think Coyle helped her to realize her dream, just like he helped her marry Trentham years ago.”

  “But her plan failed this time,” Cyclops added. “She got caught.”

  “And so he had to get rid of her or risk her implicating him,” I finished.

  We drove to Mitcham Common in silence. The more I thought about it, the more I suspected Matt was right. Both Mrs. Trentham and Lord Coyle were to blame for the murders of Mr. Trentham, his first wife, and Mrs. Mirnov.

  But only Coyle was to blame for the final murder of Mrs. Trentham. He’d killed her to protect himself because he couldn’t trust her not to implicate him in a trial.

  I blinked up at the ominously dark clouds and pulled my cloak tighter at my throat against the chill. I’d always known he was a ruthlessly powerful man, but I was just beginning to realize the lengths he was willing to go to for magic.

  I closed my hand around Matt’s. If anything happened to him, I knew who to blame.

  Coyle would discover just how far I’d go to take away the thing he loved too.

  The Shaws’ camp was deserted. There was no one about, not even the dog. The fire had been extinguished, although the ash was still warm, and there were no belongings left out. No chairs, cooking utensils, tent, and no sign of life. If it hadn’t been for the presence of the caravan and horses, we’d have assumed they’d left.