ThePerfectPoison
THIRTY-EIGHT
EDMUND MATERIALIZED OUT OF THE SHADOWS BEHIND the jeweler’s shop. Caleb could feel the energy sizzling in the atmosphere. Fletcher might have honest intentions but the man did enjoy employing his talent. Don’t we all?
“You’d think a jeweler would have better locks,” Edmund said. Triumph and cool satisfaction hummed in the words.
“Did you get it?” Caleb asked.
“Of course.” Edmund held up a leather-bound volume. “Ralston’s record of jewelry commissions. This covers the last year.”
“Good work.” Caleb took the book. “We can study it in the carriage. Then you will replace it precisely where you found it. With luck, in the morning the jeweler will never notice that it was ever touched.”
“Depend upon it, Mr. Jones.” Edmund was clearly offended by the implication that he might not be able to handle such a task. “Tomorrow morning no one will notice anything amiss.”
“I believe you. Let’s go.”
They made their way back along the alley to where Shute waited with the carriage. Earlier that evening Caleb had called upon one of his many relations, a young hunter, to take over the duties of bodyguard in Landreth Square. He could have handled the task of breaking into the jeweler’s shop but there was no question but that Fletcher’s skill in this sort of thing was superior to his own.
Edmund had been the one who recognized the jeweler’s hallmark on the bottom of the snuffbox. Caleb had refrained from inquiring how a magician had come to be so familiar with the signatures of very expensive jewelers. He had a fairly good idea of how Fletcher had survived before he went on the stage.
Inside the cramped vehicle, Caleb secured the curtains, turned up the lamps and opened the journal of accounts. It did not take long to find what he was looking for.
“One gold snuffbox to be decorated with the design of a triangle picked out in emeralds of good quality,” he read. “To be identical to previous two commissions.”
“There’s more than one of those snuffboxes?” Edmund asked.
“Three at least, evidently.”
“Who was the client?”
Caleb moved his finger across the page. Now it was his turn to feel the exhilarating rush of energy as more of the maze was suddenly illuminated. “Lord Thaxter. The address is Hollingford Square.”
“You know him?”
“Not well but we have met.” Caleb looked up. “He is a wealthy member of the Arcane Society. Some sort of botanical talent, I believe. I told Gabe this conspiracy reaches deep into the organization. One can only guess how many others within the Society are involved in the Order of the Emerald Tablet.”
“What is the next step?”
“We pay a visit to Hollingford Square.”
“It is after midnight.”
“We are not going there to take tea with Thaxter.”
HOLLINGFORD SQUARE was drenched in moonlight. Caleb and Edmund left Shute and the carriage in the deep shadows and went around to the gardens behind the big house. Edmund made quick work of the locked gate.
“No lights on in the place,” he observed quietly. “Everyone is abed. We are fortunate. There don’t appear to be any dogs so we won’t need the slice of roast that we picked up at the tavern.”
“In that case, you may consume it later. Consider it a benefit of working for the Jones agency.”
Edmund did not respond. He was utterly focused on the business ahead.
“The biggest risk will be the servants,” he continued. “You never know when one of them will suddenly decide to go to the kitchen for a late-night snack. In addition to that, one must be concerned with the possibility that the owner of the house is an overly anxious sort who keeps a pistol in a bedside table. But, generally speaking, no one ever wakes up.”
“Thank you for the tips,” Caleb said. “Always good to work with a professional.”
“Yes, well, I should probably tell you that I have done this sort of thing before a time or two, Mr. Jones.”
“I assumed as much.”
“I know you come from a long line of hunters and that you can move quietly but I still say it would be best if I went in alone.”
“No.” Caleb studied the darkened house, anticipation crackling through him. He could sense answers waiting. “I need to go inside.”
“Tell me what you hope to discover. I’ll find it for you.”
“That’s the thing,” Caleb said. “I won’t know what I am looking for until I see it.”
“Yes, sir.” Edmund looked around. “These gardens are astonishing.”
“I mentioned that Thaxter’s talent has something to do with botany. It strikes me that if one set out to re-create the formula, it would be very logical to recruit at least some individuals with that sort of psychical ability.”
“Doesn’t sound like Allister Norcross took a keen interest in botany.”
“No, I don’t think he did. I suspect his role in the Seventh Circle was of a somewhat different nature.”
“He killed the apothecary and one of the kidnappers, didn’t he?” Edmund asked quietly.
“Yes.”
They entered through the kitchen. Both of them halted immediately. Caleb knew that Edmund was picking up the same sensation of eerie not-quite emptiness.
“No servants below stairs,” Edmund said quietly. “I’m sure of it. But there is someone here. I can feel it.”
“So can I.”
“Reminds me of the sensation I got the night I let myself into Jasper Vine’s mansion and found him dead. His staff was gone that night. The house was empty and there was a very strange atmosphere.”
“You robbed the most powerful underworld lord in London?”
“A number of times. I don’t think he ever noticed. I made a habit of taking only small things, you see, the odd pocket watch or a ring.”
“The sort of items a very wealthy man might think he had simply misplaced.”
“Right,” Edmund said. “Not that Vine would have called in the police. Just didn’t want him to come looking for me.”
“Where did you find the body?”
“In the library. I don’t mind telling you, it was a very unsettling encounter. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost just before he died. His face was all twisted up in fright. I helped myself to a very nice clock and a string of pearls he’d bought for one of his women and then I left.”
“Son of a bitch,” Caleb said softly. Another section of the maze glowed. “That sounds like Allister Norcross’s work.”
“How could Vine have been involved in this affair?”
“I don’t know yet. But he was. I can feel it.”
They moved through the kitchen and out into a long hall. Caleb paused at the door to the library. The drawers of the desk stood open. Most were empty of whatever papers and files they had once contained.
“Someone got here before us,” he said.
“Sloppy work,” Edmund observed.
“Whoever he was, he was in a hurry.”
The morning room and drawing room were silent and still. Moonlight and the glow of the streetlamps shafted through uncovered windows. The servants had departed without bothering to close the curtains.
They started up the wide staircase. A faint voice became audible from somewhere in the heavy stillness above.
A man, Caleb thought, speaking to someone else. But there was no response.
He took his gun out of the pocket of his coat and went quietly along the hall. Edmund followed close behind.
The voice grew louder as they approached the last bedroom on the left. A cold draft of air whispered from the room. Someone had opened a window.
“. . . I have been poisoned, you see. That is why I can talk to ghosts. Hulsey has murdered me. He blames me for her death. Really, how was I to know . . . ?”
The words were spoken in an eerily normal, conversational fashion, the same tone that a man might have employed in his club to comment upon the weather.
“. . . It wasn’t as though I had any choice. Not after Jones got involved. There was no telling, you see. No telling what the apothecary knew. No telling what Hulsey might have said to her . . .”
Caleb stopped at the open door of the last bedroom and flattened himself against the wall. Edmund drifted past, a silent shadow, and took up a post on the opposite side of the doorway.
Caleb looked into the room. A man sat in a reading chair in front of a cold hearth. His legs were casually crossed at the knee, his elbows propped on the arms of the chair. He put his fingers together and spoke to the swath of moonlight that sliced through the open casement window.
“. . . Looking back, it was a great mistake to bring him into the Circle. Should have known better. But I was convinced I’d need his talent, you see. Didn’t know about the insanity in the family, of course. Would never have agreed to make him a member if I’d been aware of that, I can assure you . . .”
Motioning Edmund to remain out of sight, Caleb lowered the gun to the side of his leg and moved into the room.
“Good evening, Thaxter,” he said, keeping his voice very even and unthreatening. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“What’s this?” Thaxter turned his head, showing mild surprise but no alarm. “I say, are you another ghost, sir?”
“Not yet,” Caleb said. He walked into the patch of moonlight and stopped. “My name is Jones. We have met.”
Thaxter peered intently at him and then nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said in the same too-casual tones. “Caleb Jones. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Have you, sir? Why is that?”
“I knew you would show up sooner or later.” Thaxter tapped the side of his head with a forefinger. “Those of us with talent can sense these things. But I expect you know that as well as I do. You are a man of considerable power, yourself. Well, it is too late now, I’m afraid. I’ve been poisoned, you see.”
“By the founder’s formula.”
“Nonsense. By Dr. Basil Hulsey. Gave me a fresh supply of the drug last night, you see. Told me it would be far more stable than the previous version. Don’t mind saying I’d been having a few problems with the old one. We all have.”
“Hulsey gave you a new version of the formula?”
“Yes, indeed.” Thaxter moved one hand impatiently. “It transpired that he was most upset because we removed Daykin. But, really, what else could one do? It was his own fault.”
“How is that?”
“Hulsey should never have taken the fern from Miss Bromley’s conservatory and made the poison for Daykin. That brought you into the situation. There was a risk that you would eventually find your way to the apothecary. It was obvious she had to be removed. Didn’t tell Hulsey but of course he found out immediately.”
Caleb remembered the photograph in Daykin’s rooms. “Daykin and Hulsey were lovers. She was the mother of his son. Hulsey poisoned you to avenge her death.”
“Should have known better than to become involved with someone of Hulsey’s background and station. That sort tend to be unreliable. They don’t know their place. Problem is, Hulsey’s combination of talent and skill is extremely rare. Not like one can just trot down to the workhouse and hire a scientist with psychical abilities, now is it?”
“You didn’t murder Daykin, did you, Thaxter? You sent Allister Norcross to do it for you.”
“That was his talent. The reason I agreed to bring him into the Circle. Knew he’d be useful to have around.”
“You weren’t concerned about his background?”
“Of course not. Norcross was a gentleman. As I said, I wasn’t aware of the streak of insanity. Well, what’s done is done, eh? We all make mistakes.” He pulled out a gold pocket watch and studied it closely. “Not much time left, I see.”
“Where is Hulsey?” Caleb asked.
“What’s that?” Thaxter sounded distracted. He pushed himself up out of his chair and went to the chest of drawers that stood near the open window. “Hulsey? He and his son stopped by earlier tonight. Said something about wanting to see how the experiment was progressing. Evidently the poison takes a couple of days to kill. Hulsey explained he wanted me to have some time to think before I went on to the Other Side.”
“Hulsey and his son were here tonight?”
“Took all my journals and records with them when they left. Told you, that sort can’t be trusted.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“Expect you’ll find them in that laboratory of theirs over in Slater Lane. Hulsey practically lives there. Well, I must be going. Entire project is a failure. One doesn’t survive such disasters when one is a member of the Order of the Emerald Tablet. That has been made quite clear.”
“Tell me about the Order,” Caleb said.
“The Order is for gentlemen and there is only one proper way out for a gentleman in a situation like this, isn’t there?”
Thaxter reached into the drawer.
“No, damn you.” Caleb launched himself across the room.
But fast as he was, he wasn’t quite fast enough. Thaxter took the pistol out of the bureau, put it to his temple and pulled the trigger in one swift, efficient move.
Miniature lightning flashed in the darkness. The roar of the gun was deafening.
And then there was only the acute and sudden silence of death.
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