Seb nodded. Liam’s wife was a scientific genius. She also worked for the Order of the Round Table, which had resources extending far beyond even those of Scotland Yard. Although most British subjects weren’t even aware the Order existed in modern times, Seb knew better. He’d grown up in an Order family, and one of his cousins was a Knight. Seb had hoped to be as well, but although he’d inherited the enhanced senses and strong physical constitution that were part of a Knight’s heritage, he hadn’t been born with any ability whatsoever for magick, save his mild gift for sensing deception. Since magick was a fundamental requirement of the Order, Seb had gone into the army instead, intent on serving his country whatever way he could. Despite all that had happened since, Seb had never truly regretted his choice.
“It wasn’t a robbery.” Seb picked up an inexpensive brass bracelet and tucked it in his waistcoat pocket. “What little they have was tossed, but not taken.”
Liam tipped his chin. “Agreed. Miss Jane even has a ring still on her person. We should probably remove that before she goes to the morgue. No point in it winding up in Potter’s Field. I sincerely doubt she has anyone to pay for a burial.”
“I’ll pay for it.” Seb continued sifting through the mess on the floor, pocketing a pair of metal jacks. Ivy might as well have her few toys. Anything left here would probably be stolen by the end of the day once the police presence left. Seb spent a few moments seeking out and packing all of Mrs. Shaw’s and Ivy’s personal items into the boxes from under the bed. It didn’t take long.
Next they searched Jane’s flat, and again, they found nothing out of order, nothing that gave any clue about the girl’s murderer. Again, Seb neatly packed up most of the young woman’s meager possessions. “Mrs. Shaw will know if Jane has any family and I’ll see that these things get to them.”
“Whatever you want.” Liam didn’t crack a smile, but it lurked there, under the surface. “Are we done here, old man?”
“I think so.” Seb let the old-man comment pass as the friendly jibe it was. Despite being nine years Seb’s junior, Liam had been on the force longer and had earned his promotion fairly. “Our villain obviously didn’t come in here, so it’s likely Jane wasn’t the primary target.”
“Agreed. Which means we need to talk further with your mysterious Mrs. Shaw.”
Seb’s first instinct was to say no. He even caught himself about to curl his fingers into a fist. He shook his head to clear it. “Of course. You want me to bring her in tomorrow, or do you want to come to my house?”
“You’re planning to keep her there?” Liam lifted a single bushy eyebrow.
Seb shrugged. “She doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Liam frowned. “There are shelters. I’m sure Miss Dorothy knows—”
Seb lifted a hand. “She’s fine. I have the space and it’s convenient to Dr. Grant. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see she doesn’t run off with the silverplate.” He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to let the feisty widow out of his care, but the idea of her leaving irritated the living hell out of him.
“All right. I’ll come by about noon.”
Seb carried Jane’s body down to the waiting Mariah, then made his way home. The house was silent when he arrived, with only a single gaslight burning in the front hall. Seb extinguished that on his way up the stairs. The silver calling card tray was still on the table near the door. That was promising.
He paused outside the guest room door. Sure enough, two different breathing patterns were evident—the shallower ones of a child, still a little raspy, and the deeper tones of an exhausted adult. Both of his houseguests were present and accounted for. An odd sense of contentment followed Seb into slumber.
* * *
Minnie woke to such a feeling of softness and warmth that she didn’t want to open her eyes and disrupt the dream. She hadn’t been this cozy since she was a little girl, sharing a featherbed with her sister. Even then, Diana tended to hog the covers. Minnie, tucked in next to the cold outside wall, often woke with a frigid backside. Here, she was warm all the way around, with Ivy curled up against her chest, snoring softly.
Ivy. Minnie’s eyes popped all the way open. She shifted slowly until she could lay her lips against Ivy’s smooth forehead. Cool. Minnie fell back against the pillows in boneless relief. Ivy was well. The heroic policeman had saved her.
Thinking of her host, Minnie felt her cheeks flush. Had he come home? Was he here, even now, just down the hall, asleep? Or had he spent the night somewhere else? Perhaps with a lady friend? Minnie decided she didn’t much care for the notion of her white knight in some woman’s bed. “Really, Minnie,” she whispered to herself. “As if you have any right to an opinion on the matter.”
Leaving Ivy to sleep, Minnie eased out from under the covers and dressed in her spare set of clothing. Her first order of business was to straighten up the guestroom and bath, followed by carrying her borrowed garments and last night’s tray down to the kitchen. A glance down the hall showed the master bedroom door was shut. He’d come home, then. As little as she knew him, that shouldn’t have made her feel safer, but it did.
So did having something to do. She found all the wet things from the night before, which had been piled next to a modern steam-powered washing machine. She narrowed her eyes at the perplexing monstrosity until she spotted the operating instructions mounted on the side of the copper boiler. Praying she didn’t foul it up, Minnie hummed as she started the laundry. Up in the kitchen, she found the icebox and cupboards stocked with simple fare. Within half an hour, she had a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs, porridge and coffee waiting on the warming plate, as well as the previous night’s dishes washed and stacked on the table.
After checking on Ivy and finding her still asleep, Minnie returned to the kitchen and helped herself to a modest portion. After last night’s exertions, her stomach rumbled and creaked, but she forced herself to eat slowly. It wouldn’t do to make herself ill. Who knew when she’d next have access to such a wealth of sustenance?
Footsteps slapped on the floorboards upstairs, their rhythm just uneven enough to identify them as Mr. Brown’s. Minnie stood as he entered the kitchen and ducked a quick curtsy. “I hope you don’t mind, sir, but I took the liberty—”
“Thank you.” He pulled a mug from the cupboard and helped himself to the coffee.
“If you’d like to sit in your dining room, sir, I can bring you a plate.”
Mr. Brown waved a hand. “Have a seat, Mrs. Shaw, and finish your breakfast. You’re a guest, not a servant.” After a second long gulp of the steaming coffee, he filled a plate with ham and eggs before joining her at the rough worktable. Lifting his fork, he closed his eyes and inhaled. “This smells heavenly.”
“Thank you.” Cooking wasn’t a forte for Minnie, more of a survival skill, but eggs and ham were hard to muck up. “I hope you don’t mind that I took it upon myself to cook.” Servitude grated. Minnie had been in charge of her own life for so long, she hated to kowtow to anyone. Still, years as a junior employee had trained her to pretend.
“Mind what? Having a hot meal for the first time in three days? Not at all.” He looked around as he ate. “You cleaned too. You didn’t need to do that.”
Minnie stared down at her food. “It seemed like the least I could do.” Her appetite vanished with him sitting so close, so she picked at her oatmeal, nibbling on a raisin. The square jut of his jaw, clean shaven this morning, made her mouth water more than the food. She still wanted to touch it.
“How is your daughter this morning?”
“Not feverish. She’s still asleep.” Tears of relief stung at Minnie’s eyelids. “Dr. Grant said he’d like to see her again this morning, if that’s all right with you.”
“So you said last night.” He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well...” Minnie winced. “I assume you’d like us out of your house as soon as possible. I don’t want to impose on you longer than necessary.”
Mr. Brown
frowned and looked over at her. “What? Nonsense. You don’t have anywhere to go anyway. Your flat is a crime scene, remember?”
Minnie nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Perhaps you have a suggestion? I don’t have enough money for a hotel.”
“Stay here. There’s room.” He shrugged as if that was the final word on the subject.
Minnie bristled. How dare he order her to remain in his home? Nonetheless, she bit back a reply about the impropriety of the situation. Improper was better than out on the street, regardless of his high-handedness. After a moment, she asked, “Did you find out any more about the murder last night? And Jane—has she been taken somewhere—for burial, I mean?” Better a pauper’s grave than none, although the idea stung.
“She has. Do you know if she has any family?”
“No.” Minnie was getting used to his abrupt conversation. “No one at all, I’m afraid. That’s why she and I had become so close. Neither of us had anyone else.”
“Well, then. I’ve brought you some of her things. Thought you’d know who she’d want to have them.” He continued eating as if this was an everyday sort of discussion.
“Thank you.” Minnie swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’ll save them for Ivy when she gets older. Jane would have liked that.”
He made a noise that sounded vaguely approving and went back to eating in silence. Minnie wondered if she ought to be making small talk, but he seemed quite comfortable eating together without a word, so she simply continued her meal. She was almost finished when a knock sounded on the connecting door.
“It’s open,” he called.
A smiling Dr. Grant stepped into the kitchen. “How is everyone this morning?”
Minnie led the doctor back to Ivy. They’d just reached the top step when the front doorbell chimed behind them. She paused, not quite certain if she should go down and answer it.
Mr. Brown’s steps clattered in the hallway. “Go on. I’ve got it.”
Minnie nodded and escorted the doctor into Ivy’s room.
* * *
Seb opened his front door and ushered Liam into his study. They chatted about the case, reaching no obvious conclusions, until Dr. Grant joined them. After Seb introduced the other two and encouraged the doctor to speak freely in front of Liam, Dr. Grant sat.
“The child will be fine, it seems. She’s already much improved, though I told her mother to keep her abed for another day. It is odd, though. I’ve never seen any disease quite like it.”
“Really?” Liam tipped his chin. “Explain, please.”
“It’s the black perspiration. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s as if her body is excreting tar or soot.”
Liam frowned. “I noticed the sheets in her flat were blackened. Do you think that might be from her illness?”
“It must,” Grant agreed. “Though I’ve no idea how. According to the mother, she was covered in the black last night, while this morning, there’s only a trace. Whatever it is, it seems to be abating as she recovers.”
“Odd. Would you do me the favor, Doctor, of checking with some of your colleagues, and perhaps seeing if anyone else has encountered such a malady?”
“Of course. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go use the telephone in my office.” With a flicker of a bow, Grant took his leave.
Seb drummed his fingers on his desk. “I can’t help but think this is connected to the murder. It’s too coincidental, otherwise.”
Liam nodded. “My instincts tell me the same, but it does sound preposterous. I’ll deliver the sheet to Wink. Perhaps she can tell us more about the black sweat.”
“Good. Meanwhile, I’ll go ask some questions at the dress shop and of the neighbors. Someone must know something.” A spark of something—almost like excitement—quivered along Seb’s spine. Most of the work he’d done since joining the police had been routine. Even the paranormal investigations his unit handled had been rather straightforward—find the rogue shifter or wizard and lock him up. This was truly a puzzle, and his mind had grasped hold of it. He was always eager to meet an intellectual challenge.
Moments later, Mrs. Shaw joined them, and Seb found himself shuffled upstairs to watch over Ivy while Liam questioned the mother. Having absolutely no experience with children in a one-on-one situation, he sat awkwardly in the chair beside the bed until the little girl asked, “Are you really a policeman?”
“I am,” he said.
“Where’s your uniform?” Keen dark brown eyes peered at him from beneath a thick fringe of lashes. Except for her forthright manner, she didn’t look a thing like her mother.
“I’m an inspector. We only wear uniforms for special occasions.” How did one even speak to a four-year-old? How much would she understand?
“Oh.” She accepted his explanation without a blink. “Is this your house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any children here?” Her eyes grew wider, perhaps even hopeful.
“I’m afraid not.” Why was she asking that?
“Oh. I was hoping for someone to play with.” She frowned. “I have two dolls, so I could share with another girl.” She pulled two carefully sewn rag dolls from under the blankets. “This is Janie and this is Cathleen. My mama made them.” She sniffled. “Now the real Janie is an angel, just like the real Cathleen.”
“I’m sorry,” Seb said. He’d no idea what to do with a crying child. He reached out and patted her shoulder. “It hurts when people you care about go away. Even for grown-ups.”
“It does?” Ivy wiped her wrist across her eyes. Seb stared at the dolls, resisting the urge to hug the child. The craftsmanship was obvious. Mrs. Shaw must indeed be a talented seamstress, and she’d probably used scraps from the shop for the dolls’ elegant but mismatched clothes. “They’re very nice dolls.”
“You think? Janie’s last beau said they were ugly when I asked him to play with me.”
Panic began to burn in Seb’s stomach. Surely she wouldn’t expect him to play with her dolls? Would she? He grasped for an idea. “I don’t know how to play with dolls, but I could read you a story.”
Ivy’s eyes perked up? “Really? I don’t see any books.”
“They’re upstairs. Shall I just run and fetch one?” Surely there were still some children’s books left in the old nursery. He hadn’t set foot in that room since he’d been home.
“All right.” She hugged the dolls to her chest. “But hurry.”
Seb dashed up the stairs and into the nursery, still shrouded with dust covers. Luckily for him, the bookshelf was right where it had been when he was a child, so he grabbed a book of nursery rhymes and returned as fast as he could. He didn’t like leaving her alone when he was supposed to be watching over her. She sat against the pillows, one doll propped on either side of her. She gave him a regal nod as he sat and opened the book.
Her eyes were sagging when Seb finished the first story. He read one more and was gratified to hear her snoring softly.
Seb put the book down and stepped over to the bed. She was so tiny and fragile, and yet he could tell she had a strength of spirit many adults never developed. He reached out and pulled the coverlet closer to her chin. Then, leaving the door ajar, he returned to his study.
“Ivy?” Mrs. Shaw looked up at him.
“Asleep.” He resumed his seat.
“One last thing, Mrs. Shaw.” Liam smiled at her in his usual charming fashion. “Do you know anything about Ivy sweating a black substance? The doctor seemed most confused.”
Minnie nodded. “He told me. I couldn’t believe it at first—I’d never heard of such a thing.”
“But then?” Seb heard the harsh rasp of his own voice even before he saw the woman flinch. Damn, he had to learn to be in gentle company again.
“Then I remembered hearing something when I picked Ivy up from school one day. Two of the mothers were talking. It seems there were a handful of other children at the school who became ill. They weren’t worried about an epidemic, because it was nev
er more than one or two at a time.” She bit her lip. “The thing is, none of those children survived. But the teacher assured the mothers the cases weren’t related. Then one of them crossed herself and said it was the ‘Scourge of the Black Death.’ I didn’t believe it, of course, but maybe that has something to do with Ivy’s...condition. Not the plague, but something else that makes the victims appear black.”
Seb nodded. That was consistent with what she’d told him the night before.
“That’s an excellent piece of information, Mrs. Shaw.” Liam stood and bowed to the woman. “I’ll be on my way. You’re to wait here until we contact you further. Seb has assured me you’re welcome.”
Seb? She mouthed his name but didn’t speak aloud, merely nodded her acceptance of the superintendent’s order.
After Liam left, Seb spoke. “Sebastian. My given name, that is. We were colleagues and friends before he became my superior.”
“Ah. Thank you for the explanation. Is there anything else I can do? Perhaps prepare a meal, so your housekeeper won’t have to cook the minute she arrives home?”
Seb shrugged. “If you like. There’s plenty of food in the icebox. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a couple more questions.”
“Go ahead.” She straightened her spine, folding her hands more tightly in her lap.
“How long ago did Mr. Shaw pass away?”
She blanched. “Four—no—three and a half years.”
She was lying. Was he not dead at all? Or had there never been a Mr. Shaw? He stared at her, daring her to hold his gaze. “Were you ever married? Or is Mr. Shaw a fiction? I’m not here to judge you—I just want to know if Ivy’s father could be a part of this.”
“I have never been married.” She stared down at her hands, bristling with some emotion he couldn’t identify. “Truth to tell, I have no idea who Ivy’s father might be.”
That wasn’t a lie, which still struck Seb as wrong. She didn’t seem like an indiscriminate woman, that there would have been so many men she didn’t know who had fathered her child. “Tell me about him. Were you raped?” Revolting as it was, it did happen, much more than the authorities liked to believe.
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