by C. J. Archer
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Wondering about it gave me something other than the attempt on Matt’s life to think about. I avoided his gaze throughout dinner but could not continue to do so afterwards. He sat next to me on the sofa in the drawing room, holding my hand, his thumb rubbing my knuckles. It felt nice, but I wanted to send him a message that I was still angry at him for refusing to protect himself. Torn between withdrawing my hand and enjoying the sensation of close proximity, I ended up doing nothing.
We all breathed a sigh of relief when Aunt Letitia retired early. As soon as the drawing room door closed, we turned to Brockwell.
He dug into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out the notebook. He licked a fingertip and flipped the pages, one at a time, until he found the one he wanted. “According to witnesses, the carriage was pulled by two brown horses.”
“Any distinguishing marks?” Matt asked.
“One witness says no, another says one of the horses had white fetlocks, and a third witness says they think one of the horses had a white patch on its forehead.”
“One of the horses pulling the carriage that followed us from Coyle’s had a white star on its forehead.”
Willie swore under her breath. “What about the driver or passenger?”
“The coachman wore a greatcoat and broad hat for the rain. No one saw the gunman inside, but witnesses believe he used a pistol.” He glanced at Matt. “The bullet wasn’t found at the scene.”
“Nor will it be,” Matt said.
Brockwell swallowed and his gaze lowered to Matt’s stomach. “Unfortunately, we learned nothing else. In my estimation, we’re looking for a shooter with a steady hand and good aim.”
“Excellent aim,” Willie countered. “You’d need the skill of me or Annie Oakley to hit a man from a fast moving vehicle with a pistol.”
“Or luck,” Duke muttered.
“Or, he wasn’t trying to shoot me at all.” Matt turned to me. “I might not have been the intended target.”
“So who was?” Willie burst out. “Me or Duke? India?”
Matt’s lips flattened. “Or someone else entirely.”
“You were shot at outside the Gazette’s office,” I said. “On that occasion, the bullet missed, but we both saw where it hit the wall. You were closest, Matt. Not Oscar and not me. I think Duke’s right. The shooter had luck on his side this time.”
“Or her side,” Willie chimed in.
Brockwell closed his notebook. “Until we apprehend the gunman, you should remain in the house.”
Matt, who’d been dragging his hand through his hair, lowered it to glare at the inspector. “Not you too.”
“I really don’t think you should tempt the gunman again.”
Matt stood and paced the room, already acting like a caged tiger. “Everyone needs to stop telling me to stay home. I’m not going to. I have my watch—”
“And what if the next bullet hits your heart?” I cried. “You’ll die before anyone can put that watch in your hand.”
He crouched in front of me and rested his hands on my knees. “The chances of him getting lucky twice are very slim. I may not gamble much of late, but I will gamble on that.”
I pushed his hands off and stood. “Then you’re gambling with your life.”
I stormed up to our bedroom and closed the door, wanting to slam it but not wanting to wake Aunt Letitia. Matt joined me a few minutes later and we undressed for bed in silence. I felt his gaze on me, however. It didn’t have the usual tenderness in it, or desire. He was just as angry with me as I was with him.
His anger faded faster than mine. An hour later, with us both still awake, he snuggled me from behind. “Will you turn around to look at me?”
“It’s dark. There’s no point.”
“Then I’ll just have to do this.” He climbed over me, and went to settle on my other side, but didn’t realize I was close to the edge of the bed. He fell off.
I laughed.
“That’s better.” He climbed back into bed and I made way for him. “I prefer you to laugh at me than be silent.”
“I said everything I wanted to say, and we have nothing more to talk about.”
He tried to kiss me, but I put a hand to his chest to ward him off. “You’re going to remain angry with me, aren’t you?” he asked.
“You can be very wise for a stubborn idiot.”
He flopped onto his back with a sigh. “For how long?”
“Until you come to your senses.”
“That could be a while.”
“That’s entirely up to you.”
He sighed again.
I awoke early. A sliver of wan light edged the curtains, giving the room enough light for me to see Matt by. He was asleep, one muscular arm on top of the covers. I took a moment to admire his form, the rise and fall of his chest with his even breaths, and the way his eyelids twitched as he dreamed.
Then I climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the wardrobe. He awoke while I dressed.
“It’s early,” he said, voice rough from sleep. “Come back to bed.”
“I’m hungry.”
“I thought we could have breakfast in here today.”
“You have breakfast in bed. I’m going downstairs.”
He propped himself up on his elbow. “You’re still angry.”
I finished dressing and left without looking at him. If I looked at him, I might be tempted to give in and rejoin him. It was freezing this morning, and he was warm and very inviting.
But I had something to do, and it did not involve snuggling in bed or eating breakfast. I tiptoed along the hallway, glancing over my shoulder every few steps. He didn’t follow. I lightly knocked on Willie’s door before opening it. Until that moment, I hadn’t considered that Brockwell might have spent the night. He never had, out of deference to Aunt Letitia, but there was a first time for everything. Thankfully there was only one body in the bed.
“Willie, wake up.” I shook her shoulder.
She rolled over and squinted at me. “India?”
“Get dressed and meet me downstairs. Be quick and be quiet.”
She joined me in the entrance hall a few minutes later. Bristow had sent word to the mews for Woodall and the carriage waited for us outside. Wrapped to my chin in warm clothes, I accepted my muff and coat from Bristow and exited with Willie.
The horses’ breaths billowed from their nostrils in the cold morning air. Woodall greeted us, his voice muffled beneath his thick scarf. He already had his instructions, relayed by Bristow, so I didn’t need to give him directions. I removed one gloved hand from the muff to hold onto Willie’s arm to steady myself. The pavement was slippery with ice and Willie’s sturdy boots were made for this sort of weather.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she placed the blanket over our laps in the cabin.
“Sir Charles’ Whittaker’s house.”
She gave an emphatic nod. “Good.” After a long moment, she added, “Thanks for asking me and not Cyclops or Duke.”
“No need to thank me. For this mission, you were my only choice. Neither Cyclops nor Duke would accompany me. They’re more likely to alert Matt and stop me going altogether. Besides, they don’t regularly carry weapons.”
She pulled back her coat to reveal the gun strapped to her hip. “So what’s the plan?”
I wanted to catch Sir Charles before he left for his place of business, hence the early morning visit. That and it was the best time to leave without Matt noticing. Sir Charles looked up from his breakfast when the landlady showed us into his parlor.
“Mrs. Glass! This is unexpected. Do come in.” He removed a newspaper from a chair and invited me to sit.
I refused. “This is not a social call.”
He glanced at Willie, standing with her feet apart, her hand hovering at her hip to quickly flip her coat aside and draw her gun if necessary. “What is this about?”
“Did you shoot at my husband yesterday?”
&nb
sp; He blinked. “No! Good lord, Mrs. Glass. Why would I do that?”
“Because he’s getting too close to the truth.”
“The truth of what?” He frowned. “Is this to do with your investigation into the murder of the toymaker magician? I read his name in the papers and assumed you would be assisting the police. Tragic business. He seemed like a decent fellow.”
“Don’t play the fool, Sir Charles.”
He laughed nervously, but it withered on his lips. “I did not try to kill your husband, Mrs. Glass. I swear to you.”
Willie drew her gun and aimed it at him.
He put his hands up, his eyes huge as he stared at her. “Don’t shoot! Please. I’m innocent. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Is your husband all right, Mrs. Glass?”
Willie took a step forward and aimed the gun at Sir Charles’s head. “If he dies, I’m coming for you. You got that? I’m going to blow your brains out. So you better hope nothing happens to him.”
Sir Charles swallowed loudly.
Willie lowered her weapon and we left without another word. I didn’t draw a proper breath until the carriage jerked forward and we were on our way.
“He looked real scared,” Willie said with satisfaction.
“I think your threat got through to him.”
“I reckon it did.” After a while, she added, “Do you reckon it was him?”
“If it was, he now knows that we’re onto him and he’ll not try again.”
Willie nudged me with her elbow. “We make a good team.”
“We do. I’m the calm one and you’re the mad one. Together, we put him off his guard.”
“I mean me and my Colt make a good team.”
“Oh.”
She snickered. “Just joking.”
I smiled, despite myself. It did feel rather good to confront him. Whether Sir Charles was the gunman or not, I felt sure he would think twice about crossing us now.
Matt, Duke and Cyclops were at breakfast when we arrived home. All three stopped eating and glared at us upon our entry into the dining room.
“You can wipe that smile off your face, Willie,” Duke snapped.
“What smile?” She headed for the sideboard and poured herself a cup of coffee.
I remained near the door and arched a brow at Matt, inviting him to get it off his chest.
He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I assume he denied it.”
“Who?” I asked innocently.
“Whittaker. Bristow informed me where you went.”
“He did deny it, but I never expected him to admit it.”
He nodded at Willie, taking a seat at the table. “Did she shoot anything?”
“She was very restrained and merely threatened him. If Sir Charles was the gunman, he won’t try again.”
His jaw hardened. It would seem he hadn’t got it off his chest yet.
Willie frowned at Matt over the rim of her cup. “You knew we went to Whittaker’s and didn’t try to stop us?”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Even though India could have been walking into danger?”
“I doubt Whittaker was the gunman.” Matt uncrossed his arms and picked up his knife and fork. “We were followed from Coyle’s, but how could Whittaker have known we’d be there?”
“Perhaps he simply happened to be there at the same time,” I said. “He could have decided to follow us on the spur of the moment. Or perhaps he followed us from here, but we didn’t notice until after we left Coyle’s.”
Matt paused before slicing a rasher of bacon. “Do you feel better after speaking to Whittaker?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re no longer angry with me for refusing to stay home?”
“I’ve conceded that I can’t change your mind.”
He gave me an uncertain smile. “Thank you.”
I added bacon and toast to a plate from the sideboard and poured myself a cup of coffee. I took a seat beside Cyclops. “Shouldn’t you be at the training facility by now?”
“I’m taking the day off,” he said.
“Are you unwell?”
“I’m feeling a little sick.” He picked up his cup and nodded at Matt opposite. “Sick with worry. I’m joining you on your investigation.”
I clasped his forearm. “Thank you, Cyclops.”
While my mind couldn’t focus on anything except the shooting, Matt was already thinking about the investigation. As we finished breakfast, he informed us that he wanted to speak with Mrs. Trentham again.
“She changed her mind about the timing of Coyle’s visit to the shop,” he said. “It seems too coincidental that her new story fits neatly with the one Coyle gave us about shopping there several weeks ago.”
“You think they’re working together?” Duke asked.
“I don’t know. But it’s worth questioning her again.”
“She just lost her husband, Matt,” I said. “Shouldn’t we leave her to mourn him in peace?”
“I can’t. Not until we know for certain she and Coyle are not connected.” He rose and came around the table to me. He stood beside my chair as the others exited the dining room, then reached out a hand and caressed my jaw. “I know you don’t want to return there so soon after what happened, but we must strike while the iron is hot.”
“I know.”
“So…” He tilted his head to the side and gave me one of his crooked grins. It was a look designed to disarm my heart. It worked. “Am I in your good books again?”
I stood and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Are you staying home while we go to the toyshop?”
“No.”
I walked out of the dining room.
Mrs. Trentham was with a customer when we arrived, so we wandered around the shop inspecting the toys while we waited. I touched as many as I could, just to confirm that they did indeed contain magic. It was weak and present in most of them but not all.
The woman completed her purchase and beckoned to her daughter who was playing with a wooden horse pull-toy. The girl cast a last longing look at the toy before taking her mother’s hand.
I joined Willie at the medieval suit of armor automaton.
She regarded it with one hand on her hip, the other rubbing her chin. “I reckon I could fit inside it.”
“You are not going to try it on,” I snapped.
“I wonder what it costs.”
She stepped closer and searched the suit of armor for a card with the price. She’d just lifted one of its arms when the automaton’s hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist.
Chapter 9
I screamed.
Willie yelped and smashed her fist into the automaton’s arm, but it didn’t release her. “Get it off me! Get it off!”
Duke and Cyclops tried to pry open the metal fingers, but only succeeded in snapping one off.
“Careful!” Mrs. Trentham hurried over, key in hand.
“Don’t wind it up!” Willie cried.
“Calm down,” Duke chided. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“You calm down. I’ve got a goddamned metal monster trying to break my wrist.”
Mrs. Trentham inserted the key into a panel in the automaton’s back and turned it twice. The mechanisms inside the automaton whirred and clanked, and the suit of armor took a step forward, closer to Willie.
She yelped again and jumped backwards, her fingers scrabbling at the automaton’s hand. It took another step. Willie stumbled into a table stacked with toys arranged in a three-tiered display. The toys crashed to the floor. The automaton stopped and released her. Its arms fell to its sides, lifeless.
Mrs. Trentham breathed a sigh of relief.
Willie rubbed her wrist, keeping a wary eye on the automaton. “That thing’s dangerous.”
“I’m sorry, it does that sometimes,” Mrs. Trentham said. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Matt and Cyclops returned the automaton to its original position
. Once back in place, Matt inspected it from head to toe. “Why did it move?”
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Trentham picked up the automaton’s severed finger from the floor where Duke had dropped it. “Perhaps my husband’s magic is faulty.”
Matt looked to me, but I merely shrugged. My magic had always worked when I intended, even if it behaved in ways that I hadn’t expected, like the first time I’d tried the flying carpet spell. It never worked when I didn’t intend it to.
“How often does it do that?” Matt asked Mrs. Trentham.
“Not often. Once, after it frightened a little boy, my husband put it in the storeroom. It was there for months before he brought it out again.” She returned to the counter and placed the automaton’s finger and key in the drawer.
I took Willie’s hand and pushed up her sleeve. The skin was starting to bruise, but it didn’t seem too bad.
Duke and Cyclops picked up the fallen toys and returned them to the display table. “You squealed like a pig,” Duke said, chuckling.
Willie bristled. “I did not.”
Cyclops grinned. “You did.”
“Well you would too if that thing grabbed you.”
“I’d have smashed it to pieces before it got the chance.”
“And then you would have run out of here, screaming in terror.”
Duke laughed until tears filled his eyes, only to stop suddenly when Cyclops punched him in the arm. Willie punched Duke’s other arm for good measure.
Matt and I joined Mrs. Trentham at the counter. She looked somewhat ruffled by the automaton’s attack on Willie, but that was quickly overwhelmed by her reaction to seeing Matt. She stared wide-eyed at his middle.
“The bullet merely grazed me,” he said, anticipating her question.
“There was so much blood.”
My stomach suddenly lurched. I pressed a hand to it and closed my eyes against the image of Matt lying on the pavement, so close to death.
He took my elbow. His steady, solid presence was a comfort. “I’m fine.” Whether he said it for her benefit or mine, I couldn’t tell.
