The Magician's Diary Page 8

  I squeezed her hand and whispered, "Thank you."

  She gave me a smile and joined her mother and sisters. Lady Rycroft clicked her tongue at the delay. If Hope suspected her sister had spoken to me about her she did not let on. The girls followed their mother out like sheep.

  Matt shut the door after they left. "I tried to distract my aunt for you as you spoke to Patience. It didn't work for long."

  "Never mind," I said. "She managed to say what she needed to. Matt, she told me something quite unnerving." I glanced into the drawing room. Miss Glass was still there with Willie, Duke and Cyclops. I couldn't say this in front of her. We were quite alone in the entrance hall, however, so I sidled closer to him. "Patience told me that Hope spoke with Sheriff Payne yesterday."

  "What?" His explosive whisper was loud enough to draw Duke's attention. He frowned at us but did not join us.

  I took Matt's arm and directed him to the staircase, out of sight of the drawing room altogether. I did not want Miss Glass suspecting a thing. "Patience said they saw him outside their house and Hope confronted him." I filled him in on the rest, brief as it was.

  He leaned an arm on the newel post and raked his hand through his hair. He needed to rest now, not worry about this. I wish I hadn't told him.

  "We'll discuss it later," I said, giving him a little shove. "It can wait."

  "I'd rather discuss it now."

  "But—"

  "Don't, India." It was the same stern tone he'd used with Lady Rycroft. He must have realized because his face softened and he touched the tips of my fingers. "I'm fine, and I want to talk about it now."

  "What's going on?" Duke asked from the drawing room doorway.

  Matt let go of my fingers and told Duke what Patience had said.

  "Payne!" Duke swore. "What's that snake up to now?"

  "Fishing for information about me," Matt suggested. "He wrongly suspects that my family will know my weaknesses and perhaps my movements."

  It sounded plausible but I wasn't convinced. An observant person would know he rarely visited his titled relations. Perhaps that's what Payne was doing—observing. Perhaps he'd learned that the Rycrofts could tell him nothing.

  "Then why did Hope talk to him for so long when she knows nothing?" I asked. "Why did she talk to him at all? She saw the way he barged into our dinner party, and how you threw him out, Matt. She must know you despise him. And yet she did not send Payne on his way. Instead, she conversed with him and sported a curious look on her face, according to Patience. To me, that means one thing—he told her something about you, not the other way around. Something that intrigued her."

  Duke sat on the second lowest step and swore again. "This ain't good, Matt. What lies is he spreading now?"

  "She did look at you rather oddly today," I said. "Very intensely, as if she were trying to gauge something about you."

  "I noticed too," Duke said. "I thought it was because she liked him and her mother's trying to marry them off."

  "That was my first thought too," I admitted.

  Matt looked at me through his lashes.

  "He must have told her about the crimes he reckons you committed," Duke said with a shake of his head. "He wants to cause a rift between you and your family. Too bad for him there already is one."

  Matt nodded slowly, deep in thought. I sat beside Duke on the step, a little awkwardly thanks to my corset and bustle, and considered the possibilities and whether we should confront Hope. It might work. Perhaps Matt could charm answers from her.

  "Why would Patience betray her sister?" That was Matt's question?

  "Because I suspect Hope is awful to her," I said with a shrug. "Perhaps this is her way of evening the score after a lifetime of living in the shadow of her prettier, more vivacious younger sister."

  He lifted his brows. "It's hardly Hope's fault that she's prettier."

  "Lady Rycroft makes sure Hope's sisters know she is the favored daughter. Hope isn't the sort of girl who lets them forget it. I know you think I'm doing her a disservice, but I don't think I am. Patience's reasons for tattling don't concern me, anyway. What does concern me is that Hope has seen you use your watch, Matt. She knows your secret."

  He signaled for me to move along the step. I made space for him and he sat, sandwiching me between both men.

  "She can't possibly know what it means," he said. "Not even her wildest guesses would come close to the truth."

  "Payne also knows that watch is important to you," Duke said. "He tried to steal it."

  "Again, he doesn't know its true function."

  "He saw the glow in the coach once," I said. "If he knows about magic, he might guess."

  Matt shook his head. "You're both scaremongering. Hope is my cousin. She won't betray me." He stood and headed up the stairs, taking two at a time. He quickly disappeared from sight.

  Duke sighed and leaned back on his elbows. "He's not doing so good, India."

  "I know," I said quietly. "His health is one problem, but the state of his mind is another. He's under enormous strain, and now he has to worry about Payne getting to his family. He may not like them, but he would feel responsible if something happened to one of them."

  "Aye."

  I had a thought and turned to Duke. His friendly, blocky face looked back expectantly. "What if we're wrong and Payne isn't looking for information about Matt or trying to spread nasty rumors? What if he's trying to seduce Hope?"

  He sat up suddenly. Then he burst out laughing. "Good luck to him."

  "Duke! I'm serious. Matt would feel responsible for her wellbeing."

  "That girl can take care of herself. Imagine if they wed. It'd solve all our problems. Payne would be saddled with a sneaky little miss, and Hope'll be tied to a man who'll wind up in jail sooner or later. They deserve each other."

  "You forget one thing. The daughter of a British aristocrat won't marry an American sheriff. But he can ruin her."

  Dr. Ritter was as happy to see us as I expected. That is, not at all. A nurse at the London Hospital escorted us to his office, unaware that we knew our way, and announced us when the principal doctor invited her in.

  His heavy brow descended into a thunderous scowl. "What do you two want?"

  The nurse wisely scuttled away before Dr. Ritter could admonish her.

  "You were once the master of the Worshipful Company of Surgeons," Matt said, using the guild's formal title.

  "So?" Dr. Ritter was as old as Chronos but, like my grandfather, he was hail and hardy. He wasn't a big man, but he had a strong presence with his thick gray beard and a verdant set of eyebrows that commanded attention.

  "So Miss Steele and I are undertaking a new investigation into an old murder. The victim was a member of the guild at the time you were master."

  He sat back in his chair, all the bluster knocked out of him.

  "I'm referring to Dr. Millroy," Matt added.

  Dr. Ritter did not look surprised. "Why are you making inquiries now? What has it got to do with you?"

  "Police Commissioner Munro is pleased with the number of murder cases we've solved. He asked us to re-open this one in the hope of finding the killer." Mentioning a name and rank was designed to impress Dr. Ritter and make our visit seem more official. It was impossible to tell if the tactic worked. Dr. Ritter still looked stunned.

  "There must be dozens of unsolved murders in the city," he said. "Why this one?"

  Matt merely shrugged one shoulder. "Why don't you ask Commissioner Munro?"

  Matt approached the desk and pulled out a chair for me. Dr. Ritter blinked stupidly at us, as if he couldn't quite believe this was happening to him again. He had every reason to be wary of us. While he hadn't been involved in Dr. Hale's murder, our investigation had uncovered his attempts to profit from the illegal sale of Hale's medicines. It would seem the hospital's board had not yet removed him as principal. Another scandal could force their hand.

  "I can see from your reaction that you recall Dr. Millroy," Matt said as
he settled into the chair. He took a few moments to look around the office at the bookshelves crammed with medical texts, the framed degree from Cambridge, sketches and documents stacked loosely on the desk surface. He seemed comfortable in his role of interrogator, and completely in command. "Tell me what you know about Dr. Millroy's death," he went on.

  "Nothing," Dr. Ritter spat. "It was so long ago…I can hardly recall the particulars."

  "Tell me what you do recall."

  Dr. Ritter's gaze slipped to me. "In front of a lady? I think not."

  "Don't mind me," I said, removing my notepad and pencil from my reticule. "I'm used to gruesome details. As Mr. Glass said, we've worked together to solve a number of murders for the police. Nothing you say will shock me, but I appreciate your concern."

  Dr. Ritter sighed, perhaps seeing no way out. Yet another mention of the police seemed to do the trick, too. "I didn't find out about Dr. Millroy's death until I read about it in the newspaper like everyone else. Naturally I was shocked and saddened. He was an excellent doctor, by all accounts, and a member of the guild when I was its master."

  "An active member?" Matt asked.

  "Not particularly, but few are. There are only so many Court of Assistants positions to fill."

  "You say he was an excellent doctor," I said. "How do you know?"

  "Certain members get certain reputations. I hear about them, both good and bad. The medical field is a small one, Miss Steele, particularly at my level. Dr. Millroy was highly sought after by some very elite patients."

  As were many magicians in their respective trades. Mr. Pitt the magician apothecary also had customers from the upper classes. Of course, he'd lost them all now and was in danger of losing his life if a jury found him guilty of killing Dr. Hale.

  "That's why it's odd that he was killed in a slum." Dr. Ritter wrinkled his nose as if he could smell the unwashed in the poorest areas of London. "He couldn't have been seeing a patient there."

  "Perhaps he offered his services gratis," Matt said.

  Dr. Ritter snorted. "Not Millroy. It's more likely he was simply lost and a local criminal took advantage."

  "Do you know anything about a diary he kept on him?" Matt asked.

  "No. I told you, I didn't know him well."

  "But you did know that he experimented on a sick man who subsequently died."

  Dr. Ritter's throat worked but no words came out.

  "You confronted Dr. Millroy over his part in the vagrant's death," Matt went on.

  "How did you find out about that?" Dr. Ritter finally asked.

  "The police told me."

  Dr. Ritter thumped his fist on the desk, making my nerves jump. My pencil drew a crooked line across the page. "This is absurd. I had nothing to do with Dr. Millroy's death."

  "How did you learn about the experiment on the vagrant? I doubt Dr. Millroy admitted it to you or to anyone in your guild."

  Dr. Ritter smoothed his hand over the leather cover of a large medical text on the desk. "His wife came to see me. She told me as much as she knew about the experiment."

  It wasn't clear whether she mentioned magic to him, or if he knew of its existence and involvement in the case. I doubted Matt would ask directly, although I thought it a good idea. A direct question drew more direct answers. But his thoughts on the matter were very different to mine.

  At least we had the source of the information now. "Why would she betray her husband?" I said to Matt.

  It was Dr. Ritter who answered, however. "Women tend to tattle. He was foolish to entrust her with the information."

  "I beg to differ. Women are as capable of keeping secrets as men. She had a reason for coming to you, Dr. Ritter. Do you know what it is?"

  "Of course not. A woman's mind is unfathomable."

  "For some men, certainly." I wanted to ask him if he was married and whether his wife would ever take harmful information about him to his superiors but decided against it.

  "Do you know who might have benefited from Dr. Millroy's death?" Matt asked. "A rival, perhaps, or an heir?"

  "He had no rivals that I knew of, but he was an excellent doctor with a list of wealthy and influential patients. That sort of success breeds envy. As to an heir, I believe he had no children. I assume his wife is his beneficiary." Dr. Ritter got to his feet and indicated the door. "Do you mind? You're keeping me from my sick patients."

  I led the way out but Matt paused in the doorway. "One other thing. Did Mrs. Millroy happen to mention Dr. Millroy kept a mistress who bore him an illegitimate son?"

  "What?" Dr. Ritter said on a laugh. "Is this a joke?"

  "No."

  "Of course she never mentioned it, and no, I did not know. How could I?"

  Matt walked beside me back through the hospital's warren of corridors and wards. We did not speak until we breathed the cloying air outside.

  "Are we going to visit Mrs. Millroy now?" I asked as we descended the front steps.

  "After we make a diversion," Matt said.

  "Where to?"

  "I want to see where Dr. Millroy died." He opened the carriage door for me and folded the step down. "Do you think you can manage it, India? It's not in a good area."

  "Of course. I'm hardly a snowflake that'll melt at the first sign of heat." I gathered up my skirts and took his offered hand.

  Matt smiled and gave Duke directions to the crime scene. It was in Whitechapel, not far from where the Ripper murders had taken place a mere twenty months ago. I clutched my reticule to my chest. The solid shape of my watch inside was a comfort. We might need it.

  Chapter 7

  Coaches were a rare sight in Whitechapel. We drew attention on our slow drive through the labyrinth of gloomy streets but it wasn't from curiosity. Not even the children looked upon us with wonder in their eyes, but rather with calculating assessment. If we wanted to keep our possessions, we had to keep our wits about us and our valuables hidden from light fingers.

  We pulled to a stop outside a brick archway too narrow for the coach to fit through. The faded sign painted above the arch announced Bright Court waited beyond. The singularly unsuitable name was a joke played on the miserable stranger in search of safety. There was no beautiful sun-drenched land beyond the sooty bricks. It was all gray, in every direction. Even at mid-morning, the soupy air made it feel like dusk.

  My only possession of value was my watch. I'd hung it around my neck, tucking it out of sight beneath my jacket. It would chime a warning if danger came near. Even so, I took Matt's offered arm and kept close to him. Duke remained with the coach and horse. I wished we'd brought either Cyclops or Willie with us, but Cyclops had volunteered to stay at home and keep an eye on Chronos, as he didn't yet trust him not to leave. Willie had announced she was going out for the day. I suspected she would regret not coming with us, only because the opportunity to wave her gun around was likely to present itself at some point.

  "Shall we split up and question twice as many people?" I asked, counting the number of tenements edging the square court. There appeared to be eight, but it was impossible to tell if the old buildings, some made of wood and others brick, were split into even more tenements inside. How many families did each one house?

  "Only you could joke about that," Matt said.

  We crossed the slippery cobbled courtyard with care, heading for a stooped woman struggling with a pail at the pump. Water sloshed over the sides with every jerky step and splashed over her skirt.

  "Allow me," Matt said, taking it from her.

  She swatted his arm. "You give that back, you prick! It's mine!"

  "I don't want it," Matt explained with a hint of humor in his voice. "I merely want to help you carry it to your destination." He nodded at the nearest door. "In there?"

  The woman stretched her back and rubbed her hip with red, chafed hands. She wasn't as old as I originally thought. Her face was clear of deep lines and none of the strands of hair that escaped from beneath her cap sported any gray. Her eyes, however, were as ti
red and hollow as Matt's when he needed to use his watch. I guessed her to be about forty.

  "What do you want from me?" she said carefully. "I ain't got nothing for the likes of you." She eyed me. "I ain't that kind of woman. You want to go round the corner for your pleasure."

  "That's not why we're here," I assured her, not wanting to think too carefully about her assumption. "We simply need to ask if you remember a crime that happened here years ago."

  She hunched her shoulders, drawing her ragged shawl further up the back of her neck as if warding off a chill. "You don't look like the pigs."

  "We're not," I said. "We're relatives of a man who died here and simply wish to find out more about his death for our own peace of mind." That was the explanation we'd rehearsed in the coach, and I thought I did an admirable job at lying. Matt probably would have done better, but we'd agreed that if we spoke to a woman, I ought to question her and he the men. Women tended to trust their own gender more, particularly women in this part of the city who were often mistreated by their menfolk.

  "You got to be sp'ific," the woman said. "There's been a lot of crime here, a lot of death."

  "This was a murder," I said. "It happened years ago. Did you live here then?"

  "I've lived in Bright Court my whole life." The woman sucked air between her gapped teeth. "I remember it. I were only a child then." She pointed to the corner at the back of the court, not far from a door. "They found him there one morning. Toff, he was. Like you, sir. That's why I remember that one."

  How many murders occurred in Bright Court that she would struggle to remember them all?

  "Did you see the body?" I asked.

  The woman held out her hand. Matt took a coin from his pocket and placed it on her palm. She squirreled it away among the folds of her skirt. "Aye. We all saw it before the police showed up."

  "What do you remember about it?"

  "Not much. His clothes were covered in blood, here." She indicated her upper chest and throat.

  Raised children's voices came from inside the nearest tenement. Our informer didn't blink an eye or move to check on them. Behind us, someone coughed. I looked around to see a woman watching us from where she stood over a steaming copper. She prodded the contents of the copper with a staff, but her gaze never left us. She was the only other person in sight, yet I sensed a dozen eyes. I felt conspicuous in the courtyard, despite my simple gray dress, and very exposed. With only one exit, we would be trapped in here if anyone chose to attack.