by C. J. Archer
“Woodall wouldn’t be perturbed,” Matt said. “He lives above the coach house and is as tough as iron. It’s the horses that’ll hate it. It goes with you, Brockwell. Store it deep in the evidence room.”
With the automaton safely handcuffed to a large shelving unit in Scotland Yard’s basement storeroom, we finally got to enjoy our dinner. Aunt Letitia had dined in our absence but she’d not been alone. Lord Farnsworth was with her.
“What a pleasant surprise,” I said and meant it. I rather enjoyed his eccentric company. “Have you had dessert?”
“Not yet,” Aunt Letitia said.
I signaled for Bristow to bring them something while the rest of us ate our main course. While I wanted to discuss the latest development in our case, I didn’t want to do so in front of Aunt Letitia or Farnsworth. I sensed the others were frustrated by the delay too.
We started our meal in silence since it was late and we were quite hungry. The only thing that filled it was Lord Farnsworth’s deep sighs.
“Is something the matter?” I asked when it became too obvious.
“Not at all, India. Everything’s wonderful. I enjoyed an excellent meal with your dear aunt and drank some first class wine. Your butler knows his stuff, Glass.”
Aunt Letitia dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “Tell them, Davide. They’ll want to know.” Even she was calling him by his first name now? What was the world coming to?
“The woman I’d chosen to be my wife refused me.”
I lowered my knife and fork. “What a shame. Did you have your heart set on her?”
“She would have made a fine wife. Our children would have been perfect with her common sense and my wit, charm and good looks.”
Willie snickered.
Duke regarded Farnsworth with a frown that was more serious than the situation warranted. “Why’d she refuse you when you’re so witty, charming and good looking?”
I kicked him under the table and his grin broke free.
Lord Farnsworth didn’t notice. He sighed again. “She wouldn’t say. I suspect she has another suitor, someone with a higher rank than mine. Perhaps a duke.”
“There can be no other reason why she’d refuse him,” Aunt Letitia said, bestowing a sympathetic smile on him.
He smiled back. “Thank you, Letitia. You’re too kind.”
Matt muttered something under his breath.
“What will you do now?” I asked.
“Find another, I suppose. Someone less…” He fluttered his fingers in the air, searching for the right word.
“Sensible?” Matt offered.
“Someone less appealing to dukes.”
I wasn’t sure what sort of woman wouldn’t appeal to a duke, but I didn’t want to hear the answer in case he meant someone like Willie, so I didn’t ask.
Aunt Letitia rose, excusing herself, and headed for the door. As she passed Willie, she tapped her shoulder and nodded at Lord Farnsworth. Willie arched an eyebrow. Aunt Letitia jerked her head at Farnsworth. The movement was so aggressive, we all noticed it. Farnsworth pretended not to, as did Brockwell, but the rest of us watched with interest.
Aunt Letitia whispered something in Willie’s ear. Willie’s eyes widened and her jaw hardened.
“Goodnight, Letty,” she said before giving her meal her full attention once again.
I had to wait until we were in the drawing room to ask her what Aunt Letitia had said.
“She told me she’d told Farnsworth about the gypsy reading my fortune.”
“She told him you were going to marry?”
“Twice.”
I smothered my laugh with my hand.
She crossed her arms. “It ain’t funny, India. I don’t want things to change between me and Farnsworth. I like our friendship the way it is, with no complications. You’ve seen the ups and downs me and Jasper have, and that nurse. But with Farnsworth, everything’s simple. We have fun.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Now that Farnsworth’s betrothal fell through, Letty’s going to keep trying to match us.”
“I’ll tell her to stop.”
“Good.” She watched Lord Farnsworth talk to Cyclops. “Can’t say I’m disappointed his betrothal didn’t pan out. Now he can go out with me again without worrying about it getting back to a fiancée. In fact, I reckon we should go out tonight. I’m in the mood for gambling.”
I eyed Brockwell where he sat on the sofa with Duke. “Is that wise, considering Brockwell is here too?”
She rested a hand on my shoulder. “India, you should understand me and my ways by now. Jasper does. He won’t mind. Besides, he’s more interested in the investigation than me right now.”
She was right. As soon as she and Lord Farnsworth left, Brockwell wanted to discuss the situation with the automaton. We all did. Dozens of thoughts had been racing through my head during dinner, and now I could finally voice them.
“I have a theory,” I blurted out. “I think Trentham stole the spell from Fabian’s house and used it on the automaton. But something went wrong and the automaton turned on him and killed him.” I regarded each of them in turn. “What do you think?”
Cyclops nodded. “Seems like a good theory to me. Only Trentham or Mirnov could have made it move.”
“And since no break-in has been reported at the toyshop, it must be Trentham.”
But the others weren’t convinced. “Nash says magic isn’t faulty,” Brockwell pointed out. “It either works or doesn’t.”
“I’m not suggesting the magic was faulty, just that it didn’t work the way Trentham intended.”
Duke seemed to be warming to my theory. “The slim person dressed in the coat who was seen leaving the toyshop on the night of the murder could be the automaton in disguise.”
The notion was so absurd that I almost laughed again, despite the seriousness of the situation. And then I remembered something. “It was missing from the shop when we first inspected the scene of the crime after the murder. It was found the following day, in an alley, and we all thought it was stolen then dumped. But what if it ran away and that’s as far as it got before the magic ran out?”
“But who let it out of the toyshop?” Matt asked. “It’s mindless. It can’t open locks without direction and it can’t murder, either. Someone manipulated it.”
“Unless Nash is wrong,” I said. “Perhaps the magic in it is faulty. It moved of its own accord on several occasions, according to Mrs. Trentham.”
“I agree, but only to a point. Tonight’s behavior certainly seems like a fault in the magic controlling it. But the murder and subsequent escape are a different matter. That’s intentional.”
Cyclops made a shape with his hands as if strangling someone’s throat. “I reckon you’re right, and it is the murder weapon. That explains why Trentham was strangled instead of having his head bashed in with one of the tools nearby.”
I was glad Aunt Letitia wasn’t near to hear that. “Thank you for your vivid description.”
He lowered his hands. “Sorry, India. But do you understand? Matt assumes the magician was in the room with the automaton. Right?”
Matt nodded.
“But he didn’t have to be. When you made the carpet fly, how did you do it?”
“I pictured it flying in my mind as I spoke the spell.”
Cyclops pointed a finger at me. “Aye, you pictured it in your mind. You didn’t have to see it. You didn’t have to be in the same area as the carpet.”
“So the magician didn’t have to be in the same room as the automaton or Trentham,” Matt finished, nodding along. “He simply had to picture the automaton’s hands around Trentham’s neck as he spoke the moving spell.”
“It would have been more difficult to picture the right tool that happens to be nearby,” Brockwell agreed. “The murderer would have had to guess.”
It fit together too neatly for it to be any other way. It meant the stolen spell had indeed been used on the automaton to kill Tr
entham. I shuddered. What an awful way to die.
Matt rubbed my hand. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. And then it struck me why he was looking at me so intently with such concern in his eyes. The spell that had been used was my spell. I’d created it. I’d created the murder weapon.
A lump swelled in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, but it remained there, lodged. If I needed another reason to stop creating new spells, I had it. The potential for them to be misused was too great. I felt sick to my stomach at my role in Trentham’s murder.
“You’re going to make an excellent detective,” Brockwell said to Cyclops.
Cyclops smiled shyly. “If I ever stay awake long enough through training.”
“I remember those lectures. I’ll see what I can do about getting you on active duty soon.”
Cyclops straightened. “Thank you.”
Duke clicked his fingers. He was the only one who didn’t seem to be listening to the exchange between Brockwell and Cyclops. “It must be Mirnov then. He’s the only one who can manipulate the automaton with India’s moving spell. Besides India, I mean. Nash said no tin magician could move the automaton, only a toy magician.”
“Agreed,” Matt said. “Mirnov didn’t have to see Trentham to kill him, he just had to visualize the automaton doing it. But how do you explain the automaton getting out of the toyshop?”
“He pictured the lock in his mind?”
“It’s possible, but the automaton would have needed to use a key. It didn’t look as though it could operate a key with its metal fingers, let alone find it in the first place.”
Duke deflated a little. “Mirnov would have needed to be inside to find the key and turn it. That means he had to be inside before Mrs. Trentham locked up for the night.”
I looked around at each of their faces. If they were thinking the same thing as me, none showed it. They all looked quite stumped by the conundrum. “He could have been inside before Mrs. Trentham locked up,” I said. “She could have let him in if they’re lovers.”
That got all eyes looking at me. I smiled in triumph. The more I considered it, the more I liked my theory. Just because they said they’d never met didn’t mean they were telling the truth. We’d seen them together at the Rose and Crown, an unlikely place to have a business meeting but not an unusual place for two lovers to enjoy one another’s company.
“It explains everything,” Cyclops said, nodding.
“It also gives him a strong motive to murder Trentham,” Brockwell added. “He removes his rival in business and love.”
“And the subsequent erratic behavior of the automaton?”
“A fault, after all,” I said with a shrug. “Professor Nash can’t know everything there is to know about newly created spells. His sources may not have first-hand knowledge. We still have much to learn when it comes to new spells. Not that we will learn by creating any more. I am definitely not going down that path again.” I rubbed my arms against a sudden chill. “The risks are too great.”
Matt circled his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. His warmth and love helped stave off my melancholia.
“We need to find solid evidence of a connection between them,” Brockwell said. “I’ll take them both in for further questioning.”
“With due respect,” Matt said, “we’ve tried questioning them and we got nowhere. We need a more covert solution to this problem. I propose we go to the shop tomorrow under the guise of helping Mrs. Trentham tidy up, and search her personal belongings when she’s not looking.”
Brockwell shook his head. “It’s too risky. She could be Mirnov’s accomplice. If she suspects what you’re doing, she might retaliate. I can’t send anyone into danger.”
“You won’t be. I’ve made the decision without you. I’ll go.”
I pulled away from him. “No. I will. You’re staying home.”
“We’ve been through this, India.”
“It’s for one day, Matt. It won’t kill you stay here and spend some time with your aunt.”
“It might,” he muttered.
“Your presence tomorrow isn’t required. Mrs. Trentham won’t suspect me whereas she might suspect you.” He opened his mouth to protest only to close it again when I put up a finger to silence him. “Cyclops, Duke and Willie can’t continue to follow you around as your bodyguard. Cyclops has police training.”
“I’m not stopping him from attending.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Just one day, Matt.”
He sighed. “Very well. One day. But you’re taking Duke and Willie.”
“One of them should stay here with you.”
“Willie,” Duke said quickly before Matt could respond.
Matt sighed again. “It’s going to be a long day.”
The toyshop was in a similar state to how we left it the evening before. Mrs. Trentham was grateful for the help, particularly having someone as strong as Duke to lift the heavier objects. He taught me how to use a screwdriver to put the shelf back up, but there was nothing we could do about the broken table.
“It made quite a mess,” I said, surveying the work still to be done.
“Where is it now?” Mrs. Trentham asked.
“In a storage facility in Scotland Yard’s basement.”
“Good. That creature needs to be locked away until the magic fades.”
I picked up a doll and returned it to the table with the others. I needed to think of a way to search Mrs. Trentham’s rooms soon or we’d be finished here and the opportunity would be lost. But I’d already discovered the privy was located in an outhouse in the rear courtyard, not upstairs. Unfortunately I’d intended for it to be featured prominently in my ruse.
Duke stood with hands on hips beside a broken rocking horse. “I can fix this with a hammer. May I look through the workshop, Mrs. Trentham?”
“Don’t you have one in your toolbox?” she asked.
He shut the toolbox lid with his foot. “No.”
She indicated the door that led to the workshop. “Then be my guest.”
Duke gave me a speaking look before he picked up the rocking horse. Mrs. Trentham held the door open for him and looked as though she was about to follow him.
“Would you mind helping me locate the rest of these marbles?” I asked her.
Together we searched for the marbles, finding them underneath tables, other toys, and even behind the counter. I kept up a conversation the entire time so she could not find a spare moment to make her excuses and follow Duke. Not unless she wanted to be rude. As a well brought up middle class woman, I guessed Mrs. Trentham wouldn’t want to be considered impolite.
Duke returned after twenty minutes and placed the rocking horse near the front of the shop where it could be seen through the window. He dusted off his hands as he admired his handiwork.
“You did a good job,” I told him.
“Thanks. Now, I’m starved. Anyone else want something to eat?” He winked at me. With his back to Mrs. Trentham, she wouldn’t have seen.
At his encouraging look, I said, “Shall I make some sandwiches?” Upon his smile, I added, “Your kitchen is upstairs, Mrs. Trentham?”
“I couldn’t ask you to work in the kitchen, Mrs. Glass. Not after everything you’re already doing here.”
“It’s quite all right. I don’t have the opportunity to potter about in the kitchen at home. Our cook doesn’t like it. I rather miss it.” I headed toward the door before she could get ahead of me.
“But I don’t have any bread,” she said.
Even better. “Is there a bakery nearby?”
“In the next block.”
I dug some coins out of my reticule where I’d left it on the counter. “Would you mind purchasing a loaf? And anything else you require to fill a good sandwich.” I gave her more money, more than she’d need. “Something hearty for my friend.” I leaned closer and whispered, “He eats a lot.”
She smiled an innocent, trusting smile. She didn’t
have a clue what I was about to do. “Of course. And thank you again for your help, Mrs. Glass. ”
After she left, Duke joined me at the counter. “I didn’t get long upstairs. I didn’t want to make her suspicious and I still had to fix the rocking horse. You go and I’ll keep watch. I’ll whistle when I see her approaching.”
“Where did you look?”
“The sitting room. I left the bedroom for you.”
“You’re very clever to think of this, Duke. Well done.”
I raced off through the workshop and up the stairs. The landing opened up to the sitting room which contained a sofa, some small occasional tables, and a writing desk. Duke would have searched it, so I continued on to the bedchamber. If there was no correspondence in the writing desk between Mrs. Trentham and Mr. Mirnov, then the dressing table was the next obvious place.
I searched high and low, including looking for hidden compartments and false bottoms. There were none. There was so little personal correspondence that I realized Mrs. Trentham had very few friends and no family. I felt a little sorry for her, even though she could be a conspirator in her husband’s murder.
I shook an appointment diary but the only thing to fall out was a doctor’s card. I turned my attention to the bed. There was nothing under it except dust and a pair of old shoes. The wardrobe contained men’s and women’s clothing, but all pockets were empty and it didn’t feel like anything had been slipped into the lining. The top of the wardrobe revealed nothing of use either, just an empty hat box, small traveling trunk filled with musty blankets, and some books.
I put everything back and surveyed the room again, hands on hips. If there had ever been secret correspondence between lovers, it had been destroyed.
I picked up the diary again and flipped through the pages. Most days were empty. Wives of shopkeepers usually attended meetings for a particular society or interest, but Mrs. Trentham seemed to belong to none. She met with a woman named Edith for afternoon tea once a month and she and Mr. Trentham attended the theater in June and a dinner at the guild hall in September. The only name that appeared more than once was the doctor’s. She saw him twice several months ago.
