by C. J. Archer
"When do you expect him back today?" Matt asked.
"Late in the afternoon. He returns to change for dinner then dines out at one of the chop houses. He doesn't appear to belong to a club," he added with a hint of derision.
Matt and I left and asked Woodall to drive us to Scotland Yard. "Longmire isn't all that well off," Matt said. "He doesn't have a valet or he would have brought him to London. He doesn't belong to a club and he dines at chop houses."
"His rope factory must be struggling," I said. "No wonder he blames magicians for his financial difficulties."
"Magicians might not be the cause of his problems. It could be incompetence, lack of capital, or a number of other reasons. We don't know enough about him to make that judgment."
"I'm not sure it matters what the reason is. In his mind, magicians are to blame."
Matt's lips flattened in displeasure but he didn't contradict me.
Detective Inspector Brockwell looked pleased to see us, or as pleased as I'd ever seen the pedantic, plodding policeman. The only other times he'd shown more enthusiasm was when he happened to arrive at mealtime and we invited him to dine with us.
"This is an unexpected surprise," he said. "But a welcome one." He clasped his hands over his stomach and leaned back, his craggy features lifting ever so slightly in a smile. "Are you here about Miss Johnson?"
"No," Matt said. "About Lord Cox's theft."
Brockwell's face fell. "Of course."
"We can discuss Willie if you like," I said.
"After the other business," Matt added. "Brockwell, on behalf of Lord Cox, we've come to request that you take over the investigation into the burglary at his home."
"I can't." Brockwell sat forward and moved his clasped hands to the desk. "Walker has been assigned to it. I believe you two were there this morning when he interviewed the servants. Would you care to tell me why?"
"The coronet is magical," I said.
"So I read in a nasty little article."
"Lord Cox tasked us with retrieving the coronet and bringing the thief to justice," Matt said. "He doesn't think Walker is up to it, and I tend to agree. Walker assumes the servants are involved."
"Servants usually are involved, in one way or another."
"We're quite sure they're innocent of this crime. Either the half-brother did it or it was someone who read that article and realized the lord mentioned in it was Cox."
"Someone who wanted the magical coronet for themselves," I added. "We think it's Lord Coyle, as he knew Lord Cox was the unnamed baron and he's a collector of magic objects."
Brockwell rubbed his sideburns on his left side then switched to the right. "If Coyle is involved, there's very little I can do. He'll have the investigation suppressed."
"That's outrageous!" I cried. "He can't do that."
"Men like him can do anything they want and get away with it. Regarding half-brother, I'm sure Walker will question him."
"He didn't go straight to Longmire's lodgings," Matt said. "We did."
"And what did you learn?"
"I can't tell you that." Matt leaned forward. "Unless you handle the investigation."
Brockwell put up his hands. "I can't simply waltz in and take over. That's not how things are done here."
"Then we won't bother you any further." Matt rose and buttoned up his jacket. "Good day, Inspector."
"Before you go." He cleared his throat. "How is Miss Johnson?"
"Fine," Matt said.
"Good, good." Brockwell stood and smiled stiffly. "Give her my regards."
"You should stop by," I said. "I'm sure she'd be pleased to see you."
"No, no, I wouldn't want to get in her way. She made her position very clear to me."
"Oh? And what position is that?"
"That she'd like to see other men. She's not interested in commitment. That's fine by me. I don't have the time for a wife." He adjusted his tie. "But if you could perhaps mention to her that such an arrangement suits me and that I would still like to, er…continue, I would be most grateful."
"We will," Matt assured him.
Once we were back in the carriage, I turned to him. "Did you notice how he said Willie wants to see other men?"
"I did. I suspect he doesn't know about her women."
"She should have told him."
Indeed, this pause in their relationship didn't add up. Willie had made it seem as though Brockwell wanted it too, but I was no longer sure.
She wasn't at home and didn't return before Matt and I went out again to confront Mr. Longmire later that day. We arrived at his lodgings only to be told by the landlady that he hadn't returned yet.
We were considering whether to leave and come back when a figure stumbled on the pavement just outside the front gate. When he righted himself, I gasped. It was Mr. Longmire, and he was in a bad way. His mouth and nose were covered in blood and his left eye was swelling up.
"What happened?" Matt asked, going to his aid.
Mr. Longmire spat blood onto the pavement. "I was set upon in an alley."
"By thugs?" the landlady asked, her face paling. "But this is a good neighborhood!"
"Not thugs. Magicians."
Chapter 6
"You have to notify the police," I said as Matt and Mr. Harker helped Mr. Longmire into the armchair in the sitting room.
Mr. Longmire winced and clutched his side as he settled. "The police are hopeless."
The landlady bustled in carrying a cloth and basin of water. She dipped the cloth into the water and went to dab at Mr. Longmire's nose.
He snatched the cloth from her. "Get going," he growled.
"But—"
"Out! You too," he said to Matt and me as she left. "I don't need your help."
"We're not here to help," Matt said. "We've got questions."
"I'm not answering them. Harker, get rid of them."
Mr. Harker sized up Matt. "I don't think I can, sir."
"This won't take long," I said, pulling up the other chair. "Allow me."
He ignored my outstretched hand and continued to wipe the blood off his face.
"You're not doing a very good job." I indicated he should give me the cloth. "I'll be gentle."
He hesitated before passing the cloth to me.
"Let's start with the assault," I said as I carefully cleaned his face. "Can you identify your attackers?"
"Two men. Strangers."
"Would you recognize them again?"
"Maybe." He hissed as the cloth touched the bruise forming above his top lip.
"Thieves are everywhere in this city," Mr. Harker said. "Even in respectable neighborhoods like this one. It's very troubling."
"What did they steal?" Matt asked.
Mr. Longmire shifted until I ordered him to sit still. "Nothing," he finally said. "They gave me a warning. They told me to go home and to stop stirring up trouble in London."
"Trouble?" Mr. Harker echoed. "What sort of trouble?"
Mr. Longmire removed his tie and handed it to the valet. "Clean this. And close the door."
Mr. Harker took the bloodstained tie and retreated to the bedchamber, a troubled look on his brow.
"Magicians know you wrote the threatening letters," Matt said to Longmire. "And they're angry."
As if he just remembered that I was a magician, Mr. Longmire snatched the cloth off me and waved me away. "I don't know how they found out I wrote them." He glared at me. "Unless you informed your friends."
"It wasn't me," I said. "And I certainly don't know anyone who goes around beating people up."
Mr. Longmire's gaze lifted to Matt. "Don't you?" he bit off.
"Matt doesn't skulk in alleys," I shot back.
"Go away, both of you. I'm busy."
"One more question," Matt said. "Did you steal the Cox family coronet last night?"
Mr. Longmire's hand stilled. "It's been stolen?"
"Yes."
He sniffed. "Must have been the servants."
"It
wasn't."
Mr. Longmire shrugged. "I don't know who stole it, Glass, but it wasn't me."
"Where were you between the hours of one and two last night?"
"Here."
"No, you weren't."
Mr. Longmire glared at the bedchamber door. "I went for a walk. I didn't go anywhere near Cox's place. Look elsewhere for the thief, Glass. It wasn't me."
"Did you inform the newspaper gossip columnists about your brother's illegitimacy and mention the coronet?"
"Half-brother." Mr. Longmire gave a rueful smile as he dabbed at his lip. "If you don't mind, I'd like you both to leave. Good day."
"We'll leave," Matt said. "But I urge you to report the attack to the police. We would look into it for you, but we haven't got the time. Our focus is finding the Cox family coronet."
"He's still a horrid man," I said, as Matt assisted me up the carriage step. "But what happened to him is awful. Just awful."
"The question is, who told the magicians that Mr. Longmire sent those letters to them?"
"Coyle?" I said, shrugging. "No, not him. He doesn't know Longmire is to blame."
"Nor does he have a reason for attacking Longmire. Longmire's threats serve to keep magicians hidden, and Coyle is happy with that."
I wasn't really listening to him. There was a large hole in this theory that I couldn't see any way to fill. "We are the only ones who knew Mr. Longmire sent the letters. Us and Lord Cox, but I doubt he would send thugs to beat someone up."
"Someone else must know or has worked it out," Matt said, sitting beside me.
"Oscar knows of four magicians who received letters. We should ask him who they were and start there."
Matt said nothing. It would seem he was quite serious about not helping find Longmire's attackers. I, however, thought justice ought to be meted out. Even Mr. Longmire didn't deserve to be attacked so viciously.
"Do you believe him when he says he didn't take the coronet?" I asked, changing the topic.
"Actually, I do. He didn't even try to deny he told the newspaper gossips, yet he denied the theft."
"Theft is a different matter entirely to spreading gossip. It's a criminal act."
"Not if it's his coronet," he said. "That's another point in his favor—why steal it when he's most likely going to obtain it through legal means eventually?"
I sighed. "So we're back to having no suspects."
"Not at all. We have quite a number of suspects who'd want a magical golden object. An entire club's worth, in fact."
I had almost forgotten about our tickets to the opera until Aunt Letitia reminded me upon our return home. She pleaded a headache and said she was staying in, leaving us a ticket to spare.
Cyclops merely raised an eyebrow in response when I suggested he use it. Duke refused too, and Willie barked a laugh.
"I hate the opera, unless it's a comedy," she declared. "Theater's more my thing." She clicked her fingers. "Let's go see a show tonight," she said to Duke and Cyclops. "Something funny. I could do with a good laugh."
"You won't get tickets this late to anything decent," I said.
"That's fine by me. I prefer indecent shows anyway."
"Why not take Brockwell with you?"
"He's probably busy with a case."
"Actually, he's not. We were just there and he asked us to give you his regards."
"Consider them given." She reached for her teacup and frowned into it. "I'm sick of tea." With a glance in Aunt Letitia's direction to check that her eyes were still closed, she removed a flask from her pocket and added a few drops of clear liquid into the tea.
"Why are you ignoring him?" Matt asked.
"I ain't," Willie said. "Anyway, he knows where to find me."
"He thinks you're seeing other men."
"He told me that was fine by him. He ain't interested in courting or getting a wife. Why you getting all preachy, Matt? India's prudery is rubbing off on you." She looked at the tea then drank from the flask instead.
"The point I'm making is that you didn't tell him you're seeing other women."
"Men, women, it's all the same to me. He knows I'm seeing others, not just him. Like I said, he's fine about it. He told me so."
Cyclops put down the magazine he was reading. "Just because a man says he's fine with that arrangement doesn't mean his is. He might be just saying that to keep you happy."
"Which in Brockwell's case, we believe is true," I said.
"You should tell him about the women," Duke told her.
"Why?" Willie spat. "So he can judge me? Ignore me? Treat me like I've got a disease?"
"Because it's who you are."
"I've told men before and it always ends the same way. They either want to get married and have me all to themselves or they're revolted. I like Jasper. I don't want him looking at me like I disgust him. Right now, he and I are in a good place, just giving each other some space and having some time apart, so it'll be good when we're together again. I don't want to ruin that." She pointed the flask at each of us in turn. "Got it?"
Matt put up his hands. "I tried," he muttered.
"Brockwell will still like you if he knows you also like being with women," Cyclops assured her. "He sees all sorts in his line of work, and he'd understand."
"And if he don't," Duke said, "then good riddance."
Cyclops shot him a glare. "That ain't no help."
Willie pocketed her flask, drank her adulterated tea, and rose. "I'm going to find a show. Something bawdy that Jasper wouldn't like. Cyclops, Duke, you coming?"
Cyclops shook his head. "I'll keep Miss Glass company and maybe write a letter."
"I'll come," Duke said. "Bawdy is my kind of theater. I'll leave the opera to you toffs."
Matt rolled his eyes. Willie left, chuckling, and I followed her out.
"Willie," I whispered, catching up to her.
"Why you whispering?" she asked.
"Because I have a question to ask you, and I don't want anyone overhearing." I glanced around to make sure we hadn't been followed and there were no servants within earshot.
"This sounds like it'll be good," she said, amused. "Go on. You want to know what it's like being with a woman?"
"No! In there, you made it sound like you, er, know a lot of men. How many men have you actually…you know?"
"Known?" she asked. "As in carnally?"
I felt my face heat and knew it must have gone quite red from Willie's chuckle. She leaned in to whisper. "A lady never tells, India."
I cocked my head to the side and gave her an arched look. "A lady?"
She grinned. "I never tell neither." She walked off toward the staircase, a sway in her step rather than her usual swagger.
Opera wasn't really my cup of tea either. I preferred to watch the audience members rather than the stage, and spent the first fifteen minutes staring through my opera glasses at our neighbors in their private boxes. We'd hired ours for the evening, and it looked rather empty with just the two of us occupying it.
"We should have invited someone to join us," I said.
"We did," Matt said. "They didn't want to come."
"Someone other than Willie, Cyclops and Duke."
"We don't know anyone other than them. Except for my relatives, and I don't want to spend any more time with them in a confined space than I have to. Besides, they're already here."
I swiveled around. "Where?"
He nodded at a private box on the other side of the theater where Lord and Lady Rycroft sat behind Hope and Lord Coyle.
"That's quite a statement having Coyle there, beside Hope," I said.
"It's probably his box. Everyone's been staring."
I turned the opera glasses onto the stage so as not to be one of those oglers but couldn't help sneaking another peek. "Coyle looks rather pleased with himself."
"Hope doesn't look entirely displeased, surprisingly."
He was right. Hope seemed to be doing her duty by chatting to Lord Coyle, smiling at the thi
ngs he said, and generally looking pretty in her soft pink dress cut low enough to show off the creamy skin of her décolletage and the exquisite pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat.
"Is that an emerald?" I said.
"Hard to tell from here."
"Don't be glib. If that's an emerald, then she's sending a signal that this evening with Coyle is important. Otherwise her mother would be wearing it."
Matt smirked. "You have settled into the ways of the aristocracy quickly. I wouldn't have thought of that."
"It's not an aristocratic thing, it's a female thing. If a woman is trying to impress a man and wants to send a signal, she always tries to look her best."
His lips curved at the edges. "Is that what you did with me? Wear your best dresses in my presence?"
"Matt, I came to live with you wearing my only dress, and it was rather a plain one. You bought me nice dresses."
"It might have been plain but it was a snug fit." His heated gaze dipped to my bosom.
"Eyes on the stage. People are watching."
"Let them watch." He sat up straight nevertheless, that secretive smile still on his lips.
"Shall we visit them before or after the interval?" I asked, once again watching the Rycroft clan through my opera glasses.
"I prefer the third option of not visiting them at all."
"We have to visit. It would be rude not to. Don't worry, I won't question Lord Coyle tonight. We'll save the interrogation for when he's alone. Oh look. Patience and Lord Cox have just arrived."
Patience took a seat beside her sister at the front of the box while her husband sat behind her. After a brief conversation with the other family members, they concentrated on the performance. The exchange between Lord Coyle and Lord Cox appeared cordial, as if there was no ill feeling between them.
"I wonder how Cox feels about sharing the same air as Coyle," I said.
"Coyle denies informing Longmire about his father," Matt said. "Perhaps Cox believes him."
"Or perhaps he's far too polite to bring it up in a public arena. Even so, I would find it difficult to be pleasant to him if I were in Cox's position." I turned to Matt. "I just had a thought. Perhaps Coyle has asked them into his box as a way of showing support just in case people start guessing that Cox is the lord gossiped about in the papers."
