Riot toyed with his beard as he watched the strange young man. After a time, he shifted and leaned forward, intertwining his fingers. "Nicholas, you asked for my help the other day. I'm here now. Someone appears to have been looking for something in your home. Do you have any idea what that might be?"
No answer.
Riot was about to try another angle when Nicholas spoke. "I don't understand people. I don't know why they do what they do," he said without looking up from his methodical sorting.
"You and me both."
Nicholas paused. He repeated Riot's words under his breath, and shook his head. He reached for the water and drank it in one long gulp, then took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiped the glass carefully before setting it back.
"You visited me in my home. You asked for my help," Riot said gently.
"It was foolish."
"No, it wasn't. I think you're in danger, Nicholas."
"Why?" Nicholas looked at the chaos. "I'm a druggist. And… a freak. That's what you thought. I know you did. In your house."
"Out of my own fear. I did," Riot admitted.
"I don't need your help anymore. They did what they did." Nicholas focused back on his papers.
"You're still in danger."
"Why?" Nicholas asked again.
"I intend to find out. But I need your help."
"I can't." Nicholas swallowed, and dipped his head. "I need to sort this. I have work on Monday."
Riot picked up a pressed flower from the rug, and studied it. Nicholas thrust out his hand, fingers twitching. "That goes in May of 1894. Not there in your hand."
"Of course." Riot surrendered the pressed poppy. "Do you like flowers?"
"Yes. I know. It's not… manly," he stuttered.
"If only more men took an interest in flowers," Riot mused. "I might be out of a job."
Nicholas focused on Riot for the first time. His pale gaze was intense, critical, and all-seeing. Nicholas looked like a madman. "Poison. There are poisonous flowers."
Riot inclined his head. "Have you dispensed poisons?"
"Most medications are derived from poisonous plants. In minute doses. Wormwood, nightshade, arsenic…" Nicholas rattled off every such plant he knew at an alarming rate. Riot sat stunned by the man's knowledge. When Nicholas had run out of poisons, he fell silent.
"Do you keep poisonous plants in your home?"
"As I said, Mr. Riot. Most plants are poisonous."
"Do you have any rare plants?" Riot asked.
Nicholas shook his head. "Would that matter?"
"It might." Although it was a long shot. Riot tried waiting to see if Nicholas would divulge anything else, but silence didn't work with this man. Nicholas seemed oblivious to such things. "I'd like to place an agent in your home. To guard you."
Nicholas shook his head without glancing up. "They would make a mess."
Riot couldn't argue with that. "Why did you choose me?"
Nicholas stopped, and looked at him—right in the eyes. Riot held his gaze, but the man kept looking, even tilting his head. Nicholas was looking into Riot's eyes, not the center of his nose, or even at one, but into both eyes.
"I saw your photograph in a newspaper. You were clean and orderly." Without breaking eye contact, Riot waited for more. Nicholas's stare wasn't posturing, but something else. There was an openness to Nicholas—an unmistakable innocence and curiosity. "You have nice eyes, Mr. Riot. But your spectacles need cleaning." Nicholas went back to his sorting.
Riot cocked his head, the edge of his lip hitching upwards. He followed Nicholas’s suggestion and cleaned his spectacles, wondering what Isobel would make of this odd young man. The thought brought a pang of longing that he couldn't ignore. The sooner he helped Mr. Nicholas, the sooner he could visit her. But that brought another question: how to help a man who didn't want it?
24
Where the Heart Lies
Riot and Tobias walked up the side lane to Ravenwood Manor. Light spilled from the windows and laughter pushed through the walls. It sounded like a celebration.
"What's going on tonight?"
Tobias shrugged. "Some party."
As Riot had hoped, there was a light on in the carriage house. One wide door was cracked open. Tim was home. "Head inside, Tobias," Riot said. "I'm sure your mother saved us dinner. There might even be cake for you."
Tobias had done a fine job watching the drugstore, and following Mr. Nicholas home. He had kept his distance and waited for the police officer to leave. The boy had excellent instincts.
"I'd rather stick with you, sir. It's late, and I don't want to face my ma alone."
Riot grimaced. He had forgotten about that. Tobias followed him into the carriage house.
"You look like shit," Tim said by way of greeting.
Riot paused in the doorway, and sniffed. "You smell like it."
Tim's white beard was matted and dingy, and his clothes had a dubious color to them. He was pulling off a pair of boots that were caked with muck. Judging from the smell, Riot doubted it was mud.
"I found that ring," Tim said.
"Sewers?"
"Sewers," Tim confirmed.
"Had a hell of a time chasing the damned thief. I'm not as young as I'd like to be."
"I still can't catch you, Tim."
The old man cackled. "This one gave me a run for my money. He was slippery in more ways than one."
Riot glanced down at Tobias. "Next time I'll send you with Tim."
"I could 'ave used some help." Tim eyed the boy. "Are you quick on your feet?"
Tobias took a step back. "No, sir. I trip over my own. Barely managed to tail that fellow home."
"How'd you get that shiner?" Tim asked.
"I ran into some other newsboys."
Tim glanced at Riot. "Miss Lily is going to skin your hide."
Riot cleared his throat. "Why don't you get inside, Tobias."
"She's gonna whip me, isn't she?"
Tim flashed his gold teeth. "Blame it all on A.J. and you'll be fine."
The boy looked up at Riot, lips twitching. "You're gonna get it, sir."
Riot flipped Tobias twenty-five cents. "For your work today."
Overjoyed, Tobias darted towards the main house. Apparently the boy still believed that Tim was capable of telling the truth.
Tim stripped off his sodden clothing, and dropped it on some dirty hay. He stomped upstairs, and the sound of rushing water came a moment later. "Haven't had a bite all day, and I can't eat until I'm clean," Tim hollered down the stairs. "Come and talk."
Riot followed him upstairs.
"A telegram came for you," Tim called from the bathroom.
"Where is it?" Riot asked.
Tim poked his head from the doorway, and pointed at the missive. "I took the liberty of opening it. Your wayward daughter found her way to that wildcat you call a woman."
A knot unwound between's Riot's shoulder blades. He snatched up the telegram from a table, and read it.
I found your missing mutineer. She claims a certain gunslinger tried to kill her. I suggest disarming the attic. -B
Riot stared at the words. It explained why Jin had run when he tracked her to the dry dock. But why would she think he'd kill her? He'd find out soon enough in Napa Valley—if he ever untangled himself from this latest case.
Water splashed, Tim sighed, and Riot moved to the doorway, crossing his arms. "I need you to check on a police officer. I have his badge number."
"I'll put Matt on it." Tim dunked his head and came back up. Deprived of the fluff of his white beard, Tim was all muscle, bone, and sharp edges.
"You'd best hurry, Tim. You're likely to starve to death in that bath."
"I'm hurrying." Tim renewed his efforts with the brush. "Miss Lily has high standards."
"Higher than you're used to," Riot murmured.
"What was that?" Tim called over the splashing water.
"Nothing." Riot told him about his day.
; "Sounds like a simple burglary," Tim said.
"Maybe so.
"What has you on edge?"
"I'd like to know who called the police."
"I thought you said a neighbor called it in," Tim said.
"That's what the officer said. After I dropped off Sarah, I went back to Leavenworth Street, and ingratiated myself with a Mrs. Pavel—an elderly woman across the street with a convenient view of Nicholas's home."
Tim guffawed. "Using a poor elderly woman. You've sunk low, A.J."
"Officer Jones came to the house at 7:50 p.m., went around back, and then loitered outside the fence until Nicholas returned from work."
Tim grunted. "Fishy. I'll look into the badge. Anything else you want?"
"I need to look into Nicholas's family, university, friends… He must be getting help. He's so focused on minutia that I can't imagine him signing up for university, or even settling a grocer's bill by himself."
"Gotcha. Do you want this Nicholas watched?"
"I think our time would be better spent digging into his past. He doesn't want anyone in his home. And if there is someone watching him, then we'll only chase them off."
"Do you think he's in danger?"
Riot removed his spectacles, and ran a hand over his face. "I don't know. I need to sleep on it."
"No, you need to sleep. Period."
"I had a long night."
"Heart's not in it?" Tim asked.
"My heart is in Napa Valley." He gave his friend a rueful smile.
"With a woman whose instincts rival Ravenwood's," Tim said. "Question is: do you attract that sort or do they attract you?"
"The latter. I got stuck with you, didn't I?"
Tim threw a sponge at him, and then relaxed into the dirty tub. "Don't suppose you could bring an old man dinner?"
"I'll be back in a tick." Riot turned to leave.
"And A.J.?"
"Hmm?"
"I was serious about Miss Lily."
"I'll tread quietly."
The kitchen was filled with the detritus of celebration. Sarah stood at the sink up to her elbows in suds. A mountain of pots, pans, and dishes waited to be cleaned, while Watson sprawled under her feet, lazily batting at her apron string. The smell brought Riot up short in the doorway. His stomach growled in response.
"Atticus!" Sarah beamed at him. There was relief in her voice.
"How is your penance coming along?" he asked.
Sarah flicked some suds at him. "Well enough. What happened with Mr. Nicholas?"
"The police came," Riot said, looking towards the dining room. "What's going on?" Dinner at the manor was generally served at eight o'clock—buffet style.
"Mr. Löfgren is getting married. It's his engagement celebration."
Riot tried to recall the man's face.
Seeing his thoughtful expression, Sarah nudged his memory. "The Swedish man." She frowned at him. "Don't you know anyone in your own house?"
"As a general rule I try to avoid the other boarders."
She rolled her eyes. "Some detective."
"I'm far more concerned with what's inside these pots." He lifted one lid, and made appreciative noises. And then another. Pot roast, carrots, mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits that looked like clouds. He heard a hopeful purr, followed by a furry head butting his shin. Riot ignored the cat.
"And you should see the cake," Sarah said, drying her hands. "I'll make you a plate."
"Make it two, if you please. Tim's not presentable for the kitchen."
Sarah wrinkled her nose. "We smelled. When will you and Isobel have an engagement party?"
"Is that something people generally do?"
"You have to have one."
"We do?"
"Of course you do."
"If you say so."
"Really?" Her eyes widened. "You'll have a party then?"
"Everything is on hold until Isobel is free."
"Why?"
He started to give an easy answer, but paused. "Why indeed?" he murmured.
A wave of voices pushed into the kitchen, along with the door. Maddie carried in a tray, followed by her mother. Lily frowned at Riot.
Sarah leaned in close. "You're in trouble," she mouthed.
Lily set down her tray, and turned on him. "Mr. Riot, is it true you used my son to spy on a drugstore?"
"I did," Riot said.
"But, Miss Lily, me and Tobias were already…" Sarah started, but one look from the woman silenced her. She handed Riot a plate of food.
"I do apologize for not asking first," Riot said.
"Asking forgiveness instead of permission doesn't work with me." Lily grabbed a knife, and started sawing at the roast, placing lean cuts on Maddie's fresh tray. "I don't care what you and yours do, but when it involves my children, I want a say in the matter."
"Yes, ma'am," Riot said. "It's easy to forget your children's ages. They inherited their mother's intelligence."
Lily glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "If your voice were any smoother, I'd use it to honey the biscuits."
Riot plucked a biscuit from his plate, and bit into it. "You're right, no honey needed."
Maddie laughed, eyes alight. Lily looked heavenward, but that same twinkle was in her own eyes.
"I suppose this would be an inappropriate time to ask if Grimm could work for the agency?" The motor by his feet got louder, along with a strong body twining between his legs. But Riot wasn't about to give up his biscuit.
Lily sighed. "Is it ever the right time?"
"Would you poison my food if I asked now?"
She gave a pointed look at his biscuit. "Who says I haven't already?"
The girls snickered, and Lily shooed them both out with fresh trays. She wiped her hands on an apron before turning to him.
"I should have asked," Riot said more seriously.
"Yes, you should have," came her firm reply. "Apology accepted. And no, Grimm's better off here."
"Can he drive the carriage?"
Lily sighed. "He has been, hasn't he?"
"But you're worried about him."
"I can't explain. I'm sorry, Mr. Riot." She turned abruptly, staring out the kitchen window at the dark yard.
Riot studied the set of her shoulders. "I may be able to help. Whatever it is."
Lily's back stiffened. It was obvious she wanted to say something, so Riot waited. But she didn't vocalize whatever was on her mind. Instead, she shook her head.
"I thank you, Mr. Riot. But my business is my own. And while Grimm is his own man, I don't want him involved in police work. Same goes for Tobias."
Miss Lily must have heard his faint sigh, because she took pity on him. "Maybe the occasional errand," she relented. "But Mr. Riot," she leaned closer, "We can't draw attention to ourselves. Not even here."
"My offer stands. When you're ready."
Lily nodded, but kept her lips sealed.
"Do you do this sort of thing often?" He gestured to the kitchen as he took a seat. "I didn't realize celebrations were part of the rent."
“They’re not.”
"That's kind of you, Miss Lily."
"I didn't say I'm doing this for free." She handed him fork and knife. The roast didn't need a knife. He took a bite and nearly missed her next words. "Miss Dupree inquired about the teaching post."
"I need to speak with Bel first."
Lily nodded with approval.
"What would you prefer, Miss Lily?" he asked.
"I'd prefer a qualified teacher who wasn't a prostitute. And I'd prefer not to have to worry about the color of my skin every time I leave this house."
"Anything else?" he asked.
"I'd like the past to stay where it belongs, and I'd like my employer to stop using my youngest son as a spy." She paused. "A mountain of gold would be nice, too. What do you prefer?"
"To be in Bright Waters." He took another bite. "This is delicious."
"Buttering me up doesn't work either, but you can keep tr
ying."
"Noted." Riot started in on his mashed potatoes, ignoring the claws that had hooked themselves into his trouser leg. "I've been giving some thought to what you told me… regarding the state of my finances. Investing takes time."
"And it's a gamble," she reminded.
"Which is why I intend to take more interest in Ravenwood Agency. I haven't paid it proper attention for years." He watched the gravy run down the side of his potatoes, pooling like a lake on the plate. "I've wanted to put the past where it belongs, too. And the agency suffered because of it."
She ignored his double meaning. Agency could easily be replaced with family. Her family.
"Would you like me to give the boarders their notice?" Lily asked.
Riot glanced towards the dining room. Joyful voices and laughter filled the house. It was a pleasant sound. Riot shook his head. "Not yet. I'll fix the attic up for Jin, if she returns. We'll sort the rest out once Isobel is free."
"You're busy as it is, Mr. Riot. I'll have Grimm clean the attic and crate everything. You can go through the boxes at your leisure."
"I appreciate the offer, but it's something I need to do myself."
Lily didn't argue. She sat down at the table across from him. "What if people can't pay your agency? From what I understand, Mr. Tim has been very generous with the poorer clients."
"He is. And so am I. We'll start accepting reward money."
Lily tilted her head. "Why wouldn't you? Isn't that part of the business?"
"Not always. Call it professional pride. There's a fine line between an investigator and a bounty hunter, and reward money pushes that line. Clients willing to front a reward aren't always concerned about justice. They're usually more concerned with their own interests. The Pinkertons don't accept reward money either."
"I don't want you to compromise your principles."
He gave her a small smile. "I'm a gambler. I don't have many."
"You're not fooling anyone, Mr. Riot."
"I do my best." He nodded to the dishes. "In the meantime, I doubt you'll have much time to look into suitable investments with all this going on. Have you thought of hiring outside help?"
Lily gave him a look. "I'm particular about my kitchen. And I have to cook for my own anyway."
The Devil's Teeth (Ravenwood Mysteries #5) Page 17
