by C. J. Archer
“I’m keeping an open mind. He might have come to harm or he might have conspired with Mrs. Trentham to set the automaton free. I have men looking for evidence of a connection between them.”
“Is a constable usually assigned to staff the evidence room?” Matt asked.
Brockwell sliced through the sausage and was about to put it into his mouth when Willie reached over and caught his arm. With a sigh, Brockwell lowered his fork to the plate. “There’s a sergeant on duty during the day and evenings, but most nights it’s a constable.”
Like Brockwell, I wasn’t sure whether to think of the constable as a victim or accomplice. I was still trying to understand what had happened—and how. Either Mrs. Trentham was a more powerful magician than we’d thought, or she’d had help in freeing the automaton from the evidence room.
“I assume you’ve read the newspaper article,” Matt said.
Brockwell nodded. “My superiors brought it to my attention late yesterday afternoon. I explained that Mrs. Trentham had most likely controlled the automaton and that it had not acted of its own accord.”
“What did they think about that?”
“They don’t confide in me, Glass. You might learn more from the Commissioner, since you two are better acquainted and you don’t work directly for him.” He sliced through the sausage. “But if I had to guess, I would say they don’t like to have magic mentioned at all in a matter as grave as murder. Whether Mrs. Trentham directed the automaton or it somehow broke free of her control is irrelevant. The fact is, magic was put into that automaton and the automaton killed a man.”
It sounded to me like he wasn’t merely guessing at his superiors’ thoughts but voicing his own. He wouldn’t be alone in his reasoning either. The artless public would be just as critical and place the blame on magic. Even magicians would blame magic.
I did.
I rubbed my temples where a headache was starting to bloom. We were in precisely the position we never wanted to find ourselves in. One where magic was openly acknowledged and caused fear among the general populace.
I felt sick.
“Someone needs to put out a statement denying the existence of magic,” Duke said. “It’s the only way.”
Matt rubbed his forehead. “No one will believe it. Not enough people, anyway. After months of rumors and suggestion that began with Barratt’s article, this will confirm it for many.”
Willie swore under her breath. “What’re you going to do, Jasper?”
“My job.” Brockwell finished his cup of coffee and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve been tasked with finding Mrs. Trentham and bringing her to trial. She’ll be charged with her husband’s murder.”
“She’ll mention the out of control magic as part of her defense,” Matt said. “Is that what the authorities want?”
“That is for people with more power than me to decide.” Brockwell folded up the napkin and placed it beside his empty plate. “I want to question Coyle. That’s why I’m here. I want you to come with me, Glass. You too, India. Yesterday I didn’t want to confront him over his involvement when there wasn’t enough evidence and Mrs. Trentham wouldn’t accuse him. But that’s all changed with her disappearance.”
Matt agreed to join him. “He might have helped her escape. Shall we go now?”
“That’s an excellent plan.” Brockwell rose, as did Matt, Duke and Willie.
I looked down at my plate. I’d hardly eaten a thing.
“India?” Matt asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I have a confession to make.” I rose too and met his gaze. “I spoke to Lord Coyle yesterday after parting with Duke and the Inspector.”
Matt frowned. “You went alone?”
“You confronted him without me?” Brockwell asked. “India, this is police business. You could have jeopardized the investigation.”
“Nonsense,” I snapped. “I’m quite capable of asking him questions. He denied any involvement with Mrs. Trentham and blamed her entirely for the murders. I suspect his answers would have been the same no matter who asked him.” I turned to Matt. “As to going alone, yes, I did. Do you think harm would have come to me in his own house with his wife and staff present?”
He looked taken aback by my outburst. He was certainly lost for words.
“I told him if he shot at you again, I’d call on London’s magicians to shun him.”
I strode out of the dining room. I wasn’t going to apologize for confronting Coyle. I’d left Coyle’s house with a sense of relief that he would not try to kill Matt again, if he had indeed been the one to shoot him. I’d also left with a sense of pride. Coyle had taken my threat seriously. I’d made him wary of me, of my influence among the magician community. And I’d done it on my own. It was a very satisfying feeling.
Willie caught up to me and slapped my shoulder. “Good for you, India. You’re finally living up to your maiden name.” When I didn’t respond, she added. “Steele by name, steel by nature.”
“I understand, Willie.”
She squeezed my shoulder and raced up the stairs ahead of me.
Matt took her place. “You’re cross with me,” he said.
“No. I know you’re just worried.”
“Then why do I feel like you’re cross?”
“I wouldn’t knowingly place myself in danger, Matt. I was perfectly safe speaking to Coyle in his home and you know it.”
“I still wish I’d been with you,” he muttered.
I stopped and faced him. “It would have undermined what I wanted to say. My threat wouldn’t have been as effective if I needed my husband there to chaperone me.” I took his hands in mine. “He needs to know that I’m capable of being strong and vengeful, even if something happened to you and I found myself grieving. Otherwise my threat would have fallen on deaf ears.”
He sighed. “You’re right. It’s just that I feel utterly useless right now. The investigation has moved on without me, and you no longer need me.”
I grasped his face. “Of course I need you. I want you by my side, always. But that one time, my point had to be made on my own.” I planted a brisk kiss on his mouth. “Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself and let’s get ready to pay a visit on Coyle.”
“Oh-ho! So you’re letting me come with you today?”
“I suspect asking you to spend another day at home will be doomed to failure.”
He touched my fingers as we headed up the stairs together. “True. There is only so much embroidery and idle chatter a man can stand.”
Brockwell began the interrogation by asking the same questions of Lord Coyle that I had asked yesterday. His lordship gave the same answers. He confirmed that he introduced Mr. Trentham to his second wife, and was present for their marriage, but he did not murder Mr. Trentham, his first wife, or Albina Mirnov.
“Mrs. Trentham worked alone,” he said. “And I’m growing tired of these accusations.”
This time Hope was present, and the interview was conducted in the drawing room. She sat on the sofa with me, while her husband sat in his usual wingback chair, a cigar in hand. The smell of smoke, both stale and fresh, clung to the furniture and hung in the air. The smell had briefly disappeared after they married, but now that Lord Coyle was smoking again, it had returned.
So far, Hope had remained quiet and still. I constantly expected her to interject with her own opinion, but she did not. She simply played hostess by pouring tea nobody drank and sitting quietly while Brockwell fired questions at her husband.
“Then I have a new accusation for you,” the inspector said. “Overnight, Mrs. Trentham escaped from her cell.”
Lord Coyle had been puffing on his cigar, but stopped. He removed it. “And you think I helped her?” A deep chuckle welled up from his chest along with a thick cough. Once the cough subsided, he plugged the cigar back in. “Don’t be absurd. You think me more influential than I am if you assume I can do that. What do you think, my dear?” he asked Hope. “Am I powerful enough to set a pri
soner free from one of Scotland Yard’s holding cells?”
Hope’s nostrils flared. “I wouldn’t know.”
He chuckled again.
“So you are not harboring Mrs. Trentham?” Brockwell asked.
“No.”
“You did not help her escape or have one of your men assist her?”
“No.”
“Yet you benefit from her escape,” Matt pointed out.
“Why? I still have you three coming here and bothering me, as well as your two bodyguards.” He waved a hand at Duke and Willie, standing quietly by the door.
“If she hadn’t escaped, you ran the risk of her exposing your involvement in the murder of her husband, and perhaps that of his first wife and Mrs. Mirnov.”
Coyle removed his cigar. “I wasn’t involved.”
Matt pressed on. “Her disappearance means there’ll be no trial. You’re safe, as long as she doesn’t appear in court where you can’t control what she says.”
“Can’t I?” Coyle snarled.
Beside me, Hope flinched.
Coyle held up his cigar and studied the smoldering tip. “You’re too narrow-minded. All of you. Think about who else benefits from her escape. It’s not just me.” When none of us answered, his lips spread in a smile. “You’ve seen the newspaper article?”
“What has that to do with it?” Brockwell asked.
“He’s suggesting the government had just as much reason for wanting Mrs. Trentham to disappear,” Matt said. “They wouldn’t want her mentioning magic at her trial. A trial which would have been watched very closely by the public and journalists.”
Coyle pointed his cigar at Matt. “I knew you’d catch on, Glass. So you see, Inspector, Mrs. Trentham had to disappear. She’s probably dead. Alive, she’s too much of a risk to the authorities who want to keep magic suppressed.”
“You want to keep magic suppressed,” I pointed out.
“I do, but I’m not the only one. Indeed, your husband has motive, too. I’ve heard him say on numerous occasions that he doesn’t want magic exposed.”
“You’re being petty and ridiculous,” Hope hissed.
Lord Coyle stroked his moustache. “Come, my dear, don’t be upset. I know Glass is your beloved cousin, but I am merely pointing out that Mrs. Trentham’s disappearance benefits more than you and I. I wouldn’t be surprised if the good inspector is told to note in his report that Mrs. Trentham was deemed guilty of her husband’s murder, and that the automaton had nothing to do with it.” He turned to Brockwell. “Perhaps you’ll be encouraged to write that she stated as much in her interrogation. Wouldn’t it be of great benefit to so many if that report was then leaked to the press?”
Brockwell didn’t deny it. He knew better than anyone that a manipulation of the facts by his superiors was a distinct possibility. If they did choose that path, there was nothing he could do about it. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to do anything, anyway. Coyle was right. The scenario he painted was best for us.
Except that it meant the death of Mrs. Trentham, or her permanent disappearance at the very least. A chill rippled down my spine.
Brockwell rose and placed his hat on his head. “Thank you for your time, my lord. We’ll see ourselves out.”
“Hope will escort you.” Coyle smiled at his wife but it didn’t reach his eyes. “She enjoys the few rare moments with her cousin. Don’t you, my dear?”
Hope’s chest rose and fell with her deep breaths. She led the way out of the drawing room, striding ahead of us down the stairs. When we caught up to her at the front door, Matt touched her elbow to get her attention.
“I know it’s none of my business, but…are you all right?” he asked quietly.
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“Does he hurt you?”
“He doesn’t lay a finger on me.”
I suspected Coyle hurt her in other ways, however. As someone who’d suffered at the hands of Eddie Hardacre, my former fiancé, I knew that some men who held power over women didn’t always use violence as a means of control.
“Call on us if you require anything,” Matt urged her.
Hope clung to his arm and pecked his cheek. She whispered something in his ear before he moved away and joined us at the door.
We drove Brockwell to Scotland Yard then returned home. The inspector promised to keep us informed of any developments, but otherwise, there was nothing more to do. The investigation was complete. It just didn’t feel as though it was.
We spent a listless afternoon indoors. Despite his frustrations at being cooped up, Matt didn’t leave. The arrival of Lord Farnsworth after dinner was a welcome distraction. Even Matt greeted him with enthusiasm. He clapped his lordship on the back and invited him to join us in the drawing room for a game of poker.
Aunt Letitia insisted on a word with him first, however. She patted the seat beside her on the sofa and whispered something to him. Lord Farnsworth’s lips quirked with his smile and his gaze lifted to Willie.
Willie’s eyes widened. “India. Go and find out what she’s saying.”
“No.”
She clicked her tongue and watched them from beneath lowered lashes. They’d stopped sharing secrets, and Aunt Letitia’s voice returned to its usual volume.
“Any luck finding a new candidate for marriage?” she asked him.
“Alas, not yet, but I haven’t given up.”
“Good to hear, Davide. Make sure she’s a robust kind of girl and not prone to flights of fancy.” She directed a speaking glance at Willie.
Willie gasped and frowned with all her might at Aunt Letitia.
Lord Farnsworth didn’t notice. “A little bit of fantasy is all right in a wife.” He chuckled. “Not madness, of course. There’s enough of that already in my blood.” When Aunt Letitia gave him a blank look, he tapped his temple. “My mother. She’s do-lally.”
Aunt Letitia’s lips formed an O.
“But I agree that the girl should be robust,” he said. “Don’t want one easily scared off.”
“Precisely. And don’t look for girls, either. You need a more mature woman, not a debutante.”
“Quite right. Maturity is a must.”
“And it doesn’t particularly matter if she hasn’t got the right breeding or upbringing.”
He looked at her aghast. “Steady on, Letty. You’ve been around Americans too long.”
I smiled beneath my hand. Beside me, Willie snorted.
Matt invited Lord Farnsworth to join him, Cyclops and Duke at the card table. Willie protested that she wasn’t included, and Cyclops told her to draw up another chair.
I declined altogether and joined Aunt Letitia on the sofa. “What did you whisper to Lord Farnsworth earlier?”
She smiled and leaned closer. “I told him Willie’s been talking about him a lot since his last visit.”
“But she hasn’t.”
“He seemed rather pleased.”
“Of course he did. He likes being the center of attention. That doesn’t mean he wants a relationship with her, or she with him. Aunt Letitia, you have to stop trying to match them. It won’t work.”
She waved off my doubts. “Tosh. It could. They’re well suited.”
“As friends, not as anything more. She told me she doesn’t desire him.”
“What has desire got to do with marriage?”
I sighed. This was going nowhere. “He won’t marry someone so far beneath him. You heard him. And you of all people should understand that.”
She sniffed. “I used to be prejudiced, but I’m not anymore.”
“Not in this instance, because he’s not family.” My words didn’t seem to be getting through to her if the small smile on her lips was anything to go by. “Aunt Letitia, this has to stop. No more matchmaking. Not for Willie, anyway. If you do want to find someone for Lord Farnsworth, look among the relations of your friends. Surely someone has a niece or daughter who’s neither mad nor…” I waved at Willie, not quite sure how to describe h
er in a single word.
Aunt Letitia gave me her promise, although I wasn’t sure I believed it. I took comfort in the fact that a match between Willie and Lord Farnsworth was something neither of them wanted, so her plan would be thwarted sooner or later if she persisted with it.
They played poker into the evening, and I joined them when Aunt Letitia retired. When the clock struck midnight, it was as if its chime triggered something inside Lord Farnsworth. He suddenly threw down his cards, face up, and made a declaration.
“I almost forgot why I came here tonight. I’ve learned something that might interest you. Whittaker and the home secretary are meeting tonight.” He tapped his finger against the side of his nose. “In secret.”
“How do you know?” Matt asked with a large dose of skepticism in his voice.
“I’ve paid the staff at the club to tell me if they overheard conversations between the two men.”
“Why didn’t I think of bribing the staff?” Matt muttered.
Lord Farnsworth picked up his cards again, a smug smile on his face. “They wouldn’t have spied for you. You’re not a long time member, like me. They trust me.”
“What are they meeting about?” Duke asked.
Lord Farnsworth placed two matchsticks into the middle. “I don’t know, but it’s worth finding out, don’t you think? So who’s coming with me?”
“You’re going to spy on them?” I asked. “Tonight?”
They all blinked at me. “Of course,” Willie said. “Want to come?”
I glanced at Matt. He pressed his lips together and pretended to study his cards. “I’ll stay home,” I said. “As will Matt.”
He suddenly looked up.
“I say, India, you can’t keep a good man out of his own fight,” Lord Farnsworth said.
“Somebody shot at him the other day. He almost died. He is a walking target, Davide. Not to mention that Sir Charles could be the gunman.”
Lord Farnsworth’s eyes widened as he regarded Matt. “You look remarkably well for someone who almost died.”
Matt tossed his cards into the middle of the table. “I’m strong.”
“The four of you go,” I said. “We’ll stay here and await your report.”
