ThePerfectPoison
EIGHT
CALEB FOUND THE SLEEK LITTLE BLACK-AND-MAROON carriage precisely where Mrs. Shute had told him it would be in Guppy Lane. In the morning light the neighborhood displayed an air of proud, hardworking respectability. It was only a short distance from Landreth Square but it was many leagues away in terms of social status. What in blazes was Lucinda doing here?
A thin man dressed in a coachman’s hat and multi-caped coat lounged against the iron railing that guarded the front area of a small house. Caleb got out of the hansom, wincing a little when his bruised ribs protested the small jolt. He paid the driver and then walked toward the man on the railing.
“Mr. Shute?”
“Aye, sir.” Shute watched him with slightly squinted eyes. “I’m Shute.”
“Mrs. Shute gave me this address,” Caleb said. “I am looking for Miss Bromley.”
Shute angled his head toward the doorway to the house. “She’s inside.” He took out his pocket watch and examined the time. “Been there for an hour. Might be a while longer.”
Caleb studied the door. “A social call?” he asked neutrally.
“Not exactly. She’s got business inside that house.”
“Is that so?”
“You came here this morning because you were curious about what would bring a lady like Miss Bromley to this part of town.”
“You are a very astute man, Mr. Shute.”
“Thought she might be in some danger, did ye?”
“Crossed my mind.” The other possibility, of course, was that she was having an affair. For some obscure reason that had bothered him just as much.
“Mrs. Shute and I were raised in this neighborhood.” Shute looked at the row of narrow houses across the street. “Mrs. Shute’s aunts live in number five over there. Retired after nearly forty years of service in a wealthy household. When their employer died, the heirs let them go without a pension. Miss Bromley pays their rent.”
“I see,” Caleb said.
“I’ve got a couple of cousins at the end of the lane. Miss Bromley employs the girls as maids in her household. Mrs. Shute and I have a son. He and his wife and their two little ones live in the next street. My son works for a printer. Miss Bromley’s father got him the job a few years ago.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand, Mr. Shute.”
“My grandchildren attend school. Miss Bromley helps out with the fees. She says an education is the only sure way to get ahead in the modern age.”
“Obviously a lady of advanced notions.”
“Aye.” Shute aimed a thumb over his wide shoulder, pointing toward the door to the house behind him. “My sister’s daughter and her family live here.”
“You’ve made your point, Mr. Shute. My concerns for Miss Bromley’s safety were groundless. She is in no danger here.”
“There’s folks in this neighborhood and the nearby streets who would slice the liver out of anyone who tried to hurt a hair on Miss Bromley’s head with nary a moment’s hesitation and then toss the body into the river.” Shute’s eyes tightened a little more. “Been in a fight, have ye?”
“I was involved in a small altercation last night,” Caleb said. He had done his best to conceal his bruised eye by pulling up the high collar of his long coat and angling the brim of his hat but there were limits to such a disguise.
Shute nodded, unperturbed. “You got the better of your opponent, I take it.”
“I would say so. He is headed for an insane asylum.”
“Not the usual ending for a fistfight.”
“It was not the usual sort of fistfight.”
Shute gave him a speculative look. “I reckon not.”
The door to the little house opened. Lucinda appeared in the doorway. She carried a large black leather satchel in her ungloved hand. She had her back turned toward Caleb as she spoke to a woman in a worn dress and apron.
“Do not worry about trying to get food into him,” Lucinda said. “The important thing is to make sure that he takes a few sips of the tisane several times an hour.”
“I’ll see to it,” the woman vowed.
“The little ones lose all of their fluids so quickly when they are struck by this sort of stomach ailment. But I’m sure Tommy will recover in a day or two, provided he continues to take the tisane.”
“I do not know how to thank you, Miss Bromley.” The woman’s face registered both exhaustion and relief. “I didn’t know what else to do except call you. The doctor would likely have refused to come to this neighborhood.” Her mouth twisted. “You know how it is. He would have assumed we could not afford his fees. In any event, it wasn’t as if Tommy had broken a bone. I suspected that it was something he ate that made him ill. Everyone around here knows that when it comes to that kind of thing, you are far more knowledgeable than any doctor.”
“Tommy will be fine. I’m sure of it. Just keep giving him the tisane.”
“I will, Miss Bromley. Never fear.” The woman leaned out of the doorway and waved at Shute. “Good morning, Uncle Jed. Tell Aunt Bess I said hello.”
Shute straightened away from the railing. “I’ll do that, Sally.”
Lucinda turned in the doorway and saw Caleb for the first time.
“What on earth are you doing here, Mr. Jones?”
“I arrived at your address at eight o’clock to deliver my report on the progress of my investigation and to ask you some questions,” he said. “You weren’t at home.”
“Good heavens.” She stared at him, quite stunned. “You called at eight o’clock in the morning? No one does business at that hour.”
“Evidently you do.” He nodded toward the house from which she had just emerged.
“My business here is of an entirely different nature.”
He took the satchel from her. It was surprisingly heavy. “When I discovered that you were not at home I decided to track you down. You will recall that you insisted upon a daily report?”
“I don’t recall using the word daily,” she said. “I believe the words I employed were frequent and regular.”
“I took frequent and regular to mean daily.”
She looked up at him from under the brim of her small, ribbon-trimmed hat. “Never say that you mean to call upon me every day at eight o’clock in the morning. That is outrageous.” She broke off suddenly, eyes widening behind the lenses of her spectacles. “What happened to you, Mr. Jones? Did you suffer an accident?”
“Something along those lines.”
He handed her into the dainty carriage and followed her with some caution. Nevertheless, the movement sent another jolt through his bruised ribs. He knew Lucinda noticed.
“When we get back to my house I will give you something for the pain,” she said.
“Thank you.” He set the satchel on the floor of the vehicle. “That would be greatly appreciated. Took some salicin but it hasn’t done much good.”
The miniature leather seats had never been intended to transport a man of his size. Gingerly, he sat down across from Lucinda. There was no way to prevent his trousers from brushing up against the draped folds of her gown. One severe bounce and she would be across his thighs. Or he would find himself on top of her. The images heated his blood and made him forget about his ribs.
“In addition to something for the pain, I have another tisane for you,” Lucinda said.
He frowned. “What is it for?”
“There is some tension in your aura.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“The imbalance I sense will not be alleviated by sleep. It is caused by some problem of a psychical nature. I believe my tonic will ease it. I prepared it after you left yesterday.”
He shrugged and looked out the window. “You appear to enjoy something of a reputation in this neighborhood, Miss Bromley.”
“A reputation that is quite different from the one I hold in the polite world, do you mean?” She smiled at a woman who was waving from a doorway. When she turned back to face him the smile was gone. “It’s true that the people in Guppy Lane trust me not to poison them.”
“As do I,” he said, too weary and sore to allow himself to be provoked.
“Evidently,” she said, relaxing a little. “Well, sir, what do you have to report?”
He discovered that he had to work hard in order to concentrate on any subject other than Lucinda’s faint, tantalizing scent and the gentle currents of enticing energy that threatened to drug his senses. Sitting this close to her had a disturbing effect on his usually well-ordered thoughts. It was the lack of sleep, he thought.
Or perhaps there was a simpler explanation. He’d been too long without the therapeutic release of a sexual encounter. It had been several months now since the tepid liaison with a certain attractive widow had ended, as all such connections did, with the usual sense of relief.
Nevertheless, it struck him as strange that he had not been aware of missing the occasional bout of that particular type of physical exercise until yesterday when he had been inexplicably overcome by the urge to kiss Lucinda. And, just as inexplicably, the same nearly irresistible urge was riding him hard once again. He really needed to get more sleep.
“Sir?” Lucinda said somewhat sharply.
He forced himself to apply his powers of self-mastery. “I told you yesterday that before I could give my full attention to your investigation I had to deal with another matter. That business was concluded last night.”
Curiosity sparkled in her eyes. “Satisfactorily, I assume?”
“Yes.”
She studied his face. “Can I assume that the other urgent matter accounts for your bruises, sir?”
“Things became somewhat complicated,” he admitted.
“There was a brawl?”
“Of a sort.”
“For heaven’s sake, what happened?”
“As I said, the business is concluded. Now then, this morning I took some time to compose a plan for the investigation into the theft of your fern.”
“What time did you get to bed last night?” she asked.
“What?”
“How much sleep did you get?”
“A couple of hours, I think. I wasn’t watching the clock. About my plan—”
“How much sleep did you get the night before?”
“Why the devil do you wish to know that?”
“When I spoke with you yesterday, it was clear that you’d had very little sleep the previous night, as well. I could sense it in your aura.”
He was starting to get irritated. “I thought you sensed tension in my aura.”
“I did. Presumably that is what is causing your inability to get a good night’s rest.”
“I told you, I was working on another case. The situation had come to a crisis point. There has been little time for sleep lately. If you don’t mind, I have some questions, Miss Bromley.”
“Breakfast?”
“What of it?”
“Did you have any?”
“Coffee.” He narrowed his eyes. “My new housekeeper gave me a muffin on the way out the door this morning. I did not have time for a full meal.”
“A hearty breakfast is very important for a man of your constitution, sir.”
“My constitution?”
She cleared her throat. “You are a strong, hearty man, Mr. Jones, not just physically but psychically, as well. You require a great deal of energy. Sleep and a sound breakfast are critical to your well-being.”
“Damnation, Miss Bromley, I did not track you down at eight o’clock in the morning to listen to a lecture on my sleeping and eating habits. If you don’t mind, we will return to the subject of your missing fern.”
She sat very straight in the tiny seat and folded her hands in her lap.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Very well, then, what brings you out at eight o’clock in the morning?”
He was overcome with the ridiculous urge to defend himself. “Miss Bromley, when I am involved in an investigation I cannot be bound by the social world’s arbitrary dictates on matters such as the proper time of day for calls and visits.” Aware that he sounded surly, he nevertheless plowed on. “I make no apologies for my methods. It is how I work, regardless of whatever project I happen to have undertaken. But this particular investigation is, as I informed you yesterday, of great importance to me and to the Society. I will conduct it my way.”
“Yes, you did make it quite clear that you are keenly interested in Dr. Knox,” she said coolly. “Very well, what is it you wish to know?”
“Yesterday you told me that Hulsey—”
“Knox.”
“For the sake of clarity we are going to refer to Knox as Hulsey,” he said. “At least until I turn up some proof indicating that the two names do not refer to the same individual.”
She studied him with an expression of grave curiosity. “You’re very sure that Knox is this Dr. Hulsey you’ve been looking for, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“It is your talent that has convinced you of that conclusion?”
“My talent combined with facts,” he said, impatient as he always was when someone asked him to explain how his psychical abilities functioned. Damned if he knew, he thought. “That is what my talent does, Miss Bromley. It allows me to make connections between odd facts.”
“I see. Are you occasionally wrong in your conclusions?”
“Rarely, Miss Bromley. My talent is what it is.”
She inclined her head. “Very well, sir. Please continue.”
“You said that Hulsey was referred to you by one of your father’s old acquaintances.”
“Lord Roebuck, an elderly gentleman who has a long-standing interest in botany. Unfortunately, he has become quite senile in the past few years.”
“Did Roebuck know of the psychical properties of the fern and that the specimen was in your conservatory?”
“I do not see how he could have any knowledge of it. As I told you, my father and Mr. Woodhall and I brought the fern and a great many other interesting specimens back with us from our last expedition. That was some eighteen months ago. Poor Lord Roebuck had already become senile by then. He never left his house. He certainly never toured my conservatory. No, I really don’t think he could have known much about my fern.”
“Yet a month ago Hulsey somehow not only learned of the existence of the fern but also that it possessed paranormal properties. It would have taken an expert to recognize the unique aspects of that plant, correct?”
“Not just any expert,” she said, “one with talent.”
“Then someone else with talent must have viewed that fern. That person told Hulsey about it.”
“Well, I have shown a handful of people around the conservatory in recent months.”
He frowned. “Only a handful?”
“As I told you yesterday, I have not had many visitors since my father’s death. I can certainly give you the names of those who have called upon me recently.”
“Let us concentrate on those who toured the collection shortly before Hulsey showed up.”
“That will be a very short list.”
“Excellent.” He took out his notebook and pencil. “There is something I do not understand about this situation, Miss Bromley.”
She smiled faintly. “I’m astonished to hear you admit that there is anything you do not comprehend, Mr. Jones.”
He ignored that, frowning a little. “Your conservatory contains an astonishing collection of exotic and unusual plants. Why don’t you receive more visitors?”
“You would be amazed how a few rumors of poison can affect one’s social life.”
“A decline in social calls is understandable. But one would think that any botanist worth his salt would be unable to resist the prospect of a tour of your conservatory.”
She gave him a considering look. “Does it ever occur to you, sir, that not everyone is endowed with your ability to separate logic from emotion?”
“Frequently, Miss Bromley,” he said. “I admit that it is one of the things that complicates my work as an investigator. I can find connections and intuit conclusions but I have discovered that I cannot always explain why individuals act as they do. Hell, I can’t even predict how the clients will respond when I give them the answers they pay me to obtain. You would be floored by how many of them become furious, for example. I certainly am.”
Her mouth twitched a little at one corner. “Yes, I can see how you might find emotions a complicating factor.”
“Well, we must come back to the matter of your reputation some other time. For the moment, we will stay focused on Hulsey.”
“What did you say, Mr. Jones?”
“I said that, for the moment, we must stick to the problem of Hulsey.”
“Yes, I heard you, but why on earth would you want to concern yourself with the matter of my reputation?”
“Because it is an interesting problem,” he said patiently.
Wyszukiwarka
Podobne podstrony:
quin?81101129081 oeb?9 r1Blac?80440337935 oeb?8 r1de Soto Pieniadz kredyt i cykle R1Pala85515839 oeb toc r1mari?81440608889 oeb?9 r1Pala85515839 oeb?6 r1Thom?80553904765 oeb?4 r1knig?81440601187 oeb fm3 r1Bear53901087 oeb qts r1byer?81101110454 oeb?2 r1knig?81440601187 oeb?0 r1Lab2 4 R1 lab24anon?81101003909 oeb?6 r1Bear53901826 oeb p03 r1byer?81101086520 oeb?0 r1knig?81440601187 oeb?1 r1R1 1schw?81101134702 oeb fm1 r1więcej podobnych podstron