Chapter 15
Margaret pushed open the heavy wooden door to the pub and paused momentarily as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Ainsley had already moved ahead to the counter. A barkeep, rotund and unkempt, turned at the sound of the door and gave them a wary look.
“What’ll ye be needing, eh?” He looked Margaret over from head to toe with a fat, red tongue pushing at the side of his mouth.
Margaret crossed her arms over her chest and tried to ignore the man’s inappropriate staring.
“We’re looking for some information,” Ainsley started.
“We ain’t got information. We got drink.” The barkeep gave a long, deep snort and rubbed beneath his nose with the full length of his forearm.
Ainsley nodded slowly. “All right then, we’ll have two pints and some answers to a few questions.” He glanced to Margaret, who was slow to come to the counter.
“She don’t look like she wants any pints.” He had his hands spread out to the sides and was using his grip on the counter to keep him upright.
As Margaret neared she caught a whiff of him, a mixture of stale alcohol and the lack of a bath.
She gave a half smile at his comment. “It’s not like I expect you to have a chardonnay,” she said with challenge in her voice.
The barkeep chuckled and turned back to Ainsley. “Well now, the way I sees it, ye can ask your questions for two pints but ye won’t get no answers for anything less than four.” He plunked four glasses, two in each hand, onto the bar top with such force they clinked together solidly. He filled them one by one with what looked like watered-down urine, much of it spilling over the side.
“Peter.” Margaret reached forward to prevent him from touching one of the drinks.
Ainsley turned his head so only she could see and gave her a wink. Then he pulled a fistful of coins from his pocket and slapped then on the counter.
“Two evenings ago there was a man here with some friends—”
“Yes, of course! That one!” The barkeep erupted in a fit of laughter, entertained by his own wit.
“Peter, let’s go.”
“Wait a minute now, even genies allow more questions than that.” The barkeep still chuckled slightly as he spoke.
“You mean wishes, you halfwit,” she said, glaring at him with her arms crossed over her chest.
The barkeep’s attention snapped to Margaret. “What’d you call me?”
Margaret unfolded her arms and stepped into the empty space between them. “I don’t have time for this!” she yelled, meeting the man’s gaze squarely. “The man I love is facing execution and you’re making a mockery of it! Now either you recall the events of two nights ago or you don’t.”
Amidst her speech Ainsley began pulling on her arm and hissed her name.
Margaret jerked her arm from his grasp. “I am not leaving until I get an answer.”
She found herself short of breath and faint but pressed on.
“Yeah,” the man said after a moment of hesitation, “I remember.” He glanced to Ainsley with uncertainty. “Is this about that murdering professor? He who killed his superior?”
“Do you remember him?” Ainsley asked. “I was told he came here with some friends.”
The barkeep nodded. “I remember him. Good-looking fella with black hair and good teeth. He were here. Sat at that table.” He pointed to a circular table next to the door with four chairs placed around it. “Had two friends with ’im too. They ordered drinks, food, the whole lot. It were like they was celebrating something. I never asked, though.” He turned to Margaret with a gentler expression. “Not my place.”
“Can you describe the men with him?” Ainsley asked.
The barkeep went on to describe John and Ezra in turn.
“Was there an older gentleman, fifty years or older?” Ainsley asked.
“The professor?” The barkeep shook his head. “No, sir. I remember him, though, from the evening before. I remember thinking to myself ‘now there’s a fella who needs more than a pint.’ Carried the weight of the world. Thought maybe he’d lost a patient or something.”
“You knew he was a professor?”
“Of course. They all come here on account of us being so close to the school, I’d wager.”
Margaret watched as Ainsley’s shoulders slumped. She knew there was a reason for his line of questioning. Margaret herself wasn’t exactly sure what he was aiming for, but clearly he missed his mark.
“Thank you, sir,” Margaret said as Ainsley turned from the counter dejected.
“Don’t you want to hear about the woman?” the barkeep asked.
“What woman?”
“The woman who were here with them. She sat at the table beside them for most of the night before moving to sit beside the murderer … I mean, the doctor. They both left together. He was having trouble walking and she was holding him. He hadn’t drank much, though. Not that I recall.”
Ainsley and Margaret exchanged glances.
“Can you describe the woman?” Ainsley asked, examining the positioning of the two tables and their respective chairs.
“Well … she looked like her.” The barkeep pointed to Margaret.
“Me?”
“Yeah.” He squinted one eye, outstretched a hand, and made a curving motion with it. “Only more slender-like.”
“What did you say?” Margaret’s voice rose in a shriek.
“Thank you, sir. You’ve been very helpful.” Ainsley moved quickly toward his sister and ushered her outside to the hansom, which had dutifully waited for them.
“Did he just call me fat?”
Chapter 16
The police presence at the university building next to the Royal Infirmary was unmistakable. Even the plainclothed officers who leaned against the bricks along the front of the building stood out. Lectures for the rest of that week had been cancelled and only a few administrators were left to assist the investigating officers. Margaret and Ainsley were keenly aware of the many pairs of eyes that followed them as they alighted from their carriage and made their way up the steps to the university’s front doors.
“Peter, we need to take care,” Margaret cautioned, twisting her gloved fingers together in front of her as she glanced about. “We don’t want to make things more difficult for Jonas. Inspector Hearst is far less approachable than our Inspector Simms.”
“I imagine it makes their job much easier when the assailant is caught alongside the victim,” Ainsley said. “It prevents them from having to exhaust other avenues.”
The front doors opened up into a wide hall with a staircase located at the midpoint of the building. Numerous doors, all closed, faced out onto the hall, even those on the second floor that could be seen past the landing. A single soul, a uniformed officer, stood on guard outside one of the rooms on the second floor. Ainsley and Margaret couldn’t help but meet the officer’s gaze.
“Is that the professor’s office?” Margaret asked in a hushed tone.
“Yes.” Ainsley guided her to the stairs.
“How are we going to get in?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
Just before they reached the first step Samuel appeared from further down the hall. He looked up at the sight of them but then his face grew stern.
“What on earth are you doing here?” His words came out in a hiss, angry but desperate to remain quiet. “You are not doing Jonas any favours,” he said as he guided them away from the stairs. He gave an apologetic look to Margaret.
“This is my sister, Margaret.”
“My apologies, ma’am. The courts don’t look kindly to meddling. If they see either of you here it will most assuredly look bad.”
“We do not trust them to investigate fairly,” Margaret said, stealing a glance to her brother.
Samuel went for a closed door at the side and waved them in. Once inside, he scanned the hall before closing the door. He had led them to a small clerk’s office, a very narrow room with a large win
dow at the far end.
“Can you get us inside Frobisher’s office?” Ainsley asked.
Samuel shook his head. “Never. They have had a guard outside that door since Jonas was arrested. The only reason that they keep the building open is so that some of the clerks can continue to work. Lectures resume tomorrow but that office will still be off-limits.”
“We have to find out what we can,” Ainsley pressed.
“I know. I know. I am in agreeance on that.” Samuel opened a file in his hand. “I was just heading out to New Town to conduct a few interviews of my own. I’ve been here most of the morning.” He pulled out a paper and laid it on top of the dossier in his arm. “Did Jonas tell either of you he had a formal complaint filed against him?”
Ainsley and Margaret leaned in to look over the paper, which was embossed with university insignia in the top left-hand corner. Samuel pointed to a signature at the bottom.
“This was filed by Professor Frobisher himself,” he said.
“When did he file it?” Ainsley took the paper for a closer look.
“Three days ago, less than twelve hours before Frobisher was found dead.”
Margaret slipped the paper from Ainsley’s hand to study it herself. “Insubordination during surgery. It says he was antagonistic, preventing the acting surgeon from carrying out his duties, which nearly resulted in the patient’s death. That doesn’t sound like Jonas at all.”
Samuel pointed to the paper. “This is all they need to prove motive. Well, and the fact that Jonas himself confessed to animosity with Frobisher.”
“Regarding what exactly?” Margaret asked. She looked to Ainsley.
“Jonas is one of a handful of faculty members who are championing a policy change to allow the admittance of women,” he explained.
A look of elation and pride swept over her face. “Truly?”
“He said so himself,” Samuel said. “Such a move would make Edinburgh one of the first facilities in the world to make such a ruling, but it doesn’t come without a fair bit of controversy.”
“Frobisher was opposed then?” Margaret asked. “Could that be the true motive behind this complaint?”
“Perhaps, but in truth I haven’t a clue what the school plans to do with this complaint. The original complainant is no longer alive. And, given Frobisher’s new notoriety within the school and amongst the general public, I believe it will look very bad if we try to slander his memory in any way.”
“We have to try.” Margaret’s tone sounded desperate.
“Absolutely. I am trying my best, ma’am … er … Miss— Lady!” Samuel closed his eyes and shook his head at his misstep. “My apologies. I’m still getting used to the idea of my school chum being the son of an earl.”
Margaret looked to Ainsley with disbelief.
“It was the only way to get Jonas out of Calton,” he said. He saw the look on her face. “I don’t regret it,” Ainsley admitted. “Not in the slightest.”
“But Father and Daniel …” Her voice trailed off at the thought of the repercussions.
“Oh, to hell with it all, Margaret,” Ainsley said sharply. “Our lives need not be dictated by the wishes of our father and brother.” He stole a glance to Samuel and licked his lips. “Our happiness is better served when we endeavour to follow our own hearts and minds. You and I have learned as much in recent months.”
Margaret looked abashed. Out of everyone working to set Jonas free, she cared for him the most. She had defied her father when she entered into a relationship with him. She defied society by just contemplating a life alongside him. Yet somehow she clung to the notion that everyone might be appeased by her peacemaker mentality.
“Lady Margaret, your brother coming forward … all I can say is it adds a tremendous amount of weight to our defence.”
Margaret nodded and lifted her eyes to look at Ainsley. “I am glad of it,” she said, determination in her eyes. “We must do away with fear.” She looked to Samuel. “We discovered something about the professor that may dampen the public’s elevated opinion of him. Frobisher was having an extramarital affair.”
Samuel raised an eyebrow.
“We haven’t been able to verify the claim,” Ainsley said. “But I imagine it to be very likely given the state of his marriage and the indifference of his wife.”
Samuel nodded but didn’t say anything straightaway. “Mrs. Frobisher’s family, the Belmots, are a lesser noble family. My father represented them once regarding a land dispute. It’s possible Frobisher married into the family to access her wealth, which if I understand correctly, would have been considerable for a man of his aspirations.”
“This would explain why they suffered a loveless marriage,” Ainsley said, turning to the window and running a hand through his hair.
“A childless one as well,” Margaret offered. She turned her attention to Samuel. “Mrs. Frobisher told us her husband had been gone two nights before his body was found here.”
Samuel regarded her warily. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you both questioning witnesses before they can be brought in to give official statements,” he said. “You will be accused of interfering.”
Ainsley turned. “What are we supposed to do? Sit in that house, with the crowds gawking at us, and wait? That’s what circumstance is forcing Jonas to do and he’s nearly jumping out of his skin.” He stepped away from the window. “We need to find the connections that the investigating officers are not willing to entertain. We know Jonas didn’t murder Frobisher, but that means someone else did.”
“Please, Mr. Humphry, let Peter and I do this. We promise to be as discreet as we can. We will inform you of any information we glean, whether we feel it will help Jonas’s case or hinder it.”
Ainsley marvelled at Margaret’s ability to win over anyone. Samuel didn’t respond immediately, most likely considering the probable outcomes.
“No,” he said sternly. “You mustn’t tell me anything else, not until you have proof.” He gave a small exhale, no doubt second-guessing his decision to allow them to proceed on their own. He looked to Ainsley. “I either need proof, beyond a doubt, that Jonas is innocent or that someone else committed this crime.” He turned his attention back to Margaret. “Anything else is of little help to us. Do you understand?”
Margaret nodded.
“All right then.” Samuel pulled at the bottom of his jacket and straightened his tie. “We are going to leave this room together and you both are going to follow me.” He gave Ainsley a pointed finger. “Do not stray.”
Margaret chuckled. “I see you two are well acquainted.”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” Samuel said. “We are indeed.” A stern look flashed over him before he waved his hand, beckoning them to follow him. “Come then.”
He opened the door and stepped aside to allow Margaret to walk through first. In the hall, Samuel made mundane remarks to the weather as he led them to the back of the building and down a set of cement stairs. Once in the basement, he relaxed. “Peter, you’ll recall Jonas telling us about a female clerk who Frobisher assaulted.”
“Miss Rebecca Stewart,” Ainsley said.
“Yes. I’ve already spoken with her, and she is still fairly shaken up. She didn’t want to talk to me until I mentioned she would be helping Dr. Davies’s case.”
“Is she willing to corroborate the events?”
Samuel nodded. “And she’s offered to help us in any way she can.” He gestured for a door. “It’s just through here,” he said, more so for Margaret’s sake. Ainsley already knew where they were headed.
They walked down a narrow passage with low ceilings before the room opened up, revealing a large, heavily used mortuary. The ceiling was held up by four large columns and gaslights dangled from the rafters of the ceiling. A man in a white smock was hunched over a body at the far end of the room. A woman, who wore an identical smock, entered the room from a doorway to the left. She looked up from the papers in her hand and pulled off her glasses. “Mr.
Humphry, I was just going to make copies of the notes you requested.”
“It’s all right. I can wait until tomorrow. I am just bringing a colleague of mine down so he can see the body for himself.” Samuel turned to Margaret and Ainsley. “This is Miss Rebecca Stewart. She’s a recent addition to the university staff.”
The young woman nodded in their direction as she skirted them, heading for a small desk set against the wall next to where Margaret stood.
“They keep me down here mostly,” Rebecca said. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass any of the men in the upper offices.” She flashed a grim smile. She shot an unsure glance over her shoulder to the man who showed little interest in acknowledging their presence. “And I spend seventy percent of my time fetching tea.”
“Cecil,” Samuel called out.
The man jolted upright as the mention of his name. He wore a long white coat and a pair of leather gloves. His half-moon spectacles looked as if any moment they would slide from the beak of his nose. Ainsley did not recognize him even though during his medical training he had spent many hours in that very room.
“These are my friends, Peter and Margaret,” Samuel explained.
“Yes.” Cecil did not move from his place amongst the dead nor did her raise his eyes as he spoke.
“Would one of you be willing to show them what we were discussing earlier?” Samuel asked, looking from Cecil to Rebecca and back again. “They both have a keen interest in the case at hand.”
Cecil stood stoic for a moment. “Can the little lady hold the contents of her stomach?” he asked, his tone betraying his cynicism.
Ainsley snorted. “As well as any man. Sometimes better.”
Rebecca smiled and looked to Margaret. “Excellent. You have the perfect disposition to fetch tea as well.”
***
Cecil was a man of peculiarities. His speech was stunted, his height as well, and all the while Ainsley and Margaret were in the mortuary, he refused to make eye contact with either of them. He pointed to one table to the side. “It’s here.”
When he pulled back the white sheet a body with a gaping chest cavity greeted them. Ainsley drew as close to the body as the table would allow and saw Margaret do the same beside him in his peripheral vision.
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