The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele Book 3)

by C. J. Archer

  "She feels guilty for earlier." He laid his hand on the doorknob. "Enjoy your cream puffs, India. I'll see you at dinner, if those don't spoil your appetite."

  I ate my cream puffs by the window, looking out across the rooftops. My fourth floor bedroom gave me an excellent view of the city and the sky. It was bluer than it had been in months, no matter what Matt said. I smiled and silently thanked the good fortune that had sent me to a place where people respected and protected me. I didn't have to worry about my next meal, or if I would even have a roof over my head, as I had after my father died.

  No matter what Miss Glass feared, I wouldn't jeopardize what I had now for Matt's attention. I wouldn't tell him how I felt and risk his rejection and her ire. I liked the life I lived at number sixteen Park Street too much.

  Cyclops, Duke and Willie returned in time to dine with us. Matt looked refreshed, and his aunt ate in her own chambers. I'd gone to see her just before the dinner gong sounded to thank her for the cream puffs.

  She'd looked at me blankly and said, "What cream puffs? I don't eat the things. Too fattening. You know that, Veronica."

  I smiled sadly and closed her door, wondering who Veronica was.

  "What did you discover?" Matt asked as soon as Bristow ushered out the footman and closed the door, leaving the five of us alone in the dining room.

  "What makes you think we found anything out?" Willie said, spooning beans onto her plate.

  "Duke's face."

  Duke schooled his features—or tried to. He simply ended up with one eyebrow sitting above the other and his cheeks sucked in.

  Willie shook her head. "That's why you lose at poker, Duke. Your face can be read like a book."

  "Ha!" he barked. "Then you must struggle. You ain't read a whole book in years."

  Matt appealed to Cyclops. "Well?"

  "It's not what we found out," Cyclops said, "but what we found." He opened the flap of his jacket and pulled a bottle from his inside pocket. He passed it across the table to Matt. "That's the bottle which contained the poison."

  "You stole it!" I cried. "Cyclops!"

  "Needs must, India," the big man said.

  Matt removed the stopper. "Are you sure this is the bottle found next to Hale's body?"

  Duke nodded. "It was guarded by a constable and all."

  "The police are using the hospital equipment and a doctor to analyze it," Cyclops said.

  "In the basement," Willie said, helping herself to the beef. "There were three of them and the doctor down there. It weren't easy to get past them, but Cyclops is good." She flashed him a grin.

  Cyclops glanced at me then concentrated on his potatoes.

  Matt sniffed the bottle then sniffed it again. "I can't detect any poisonous odors, but there are several that don't have a smell. India, you've used Dr. Hale's Cure-All before." He passed the bottle to me. "Is that what it usually smells like?"

  I took it and sniffed, then drew the bottle away from my nose. Far away. "My god," I said on a breath.

  "What it is?" He took the bottle off me and sniffed again. "What did you smell?"

  "It wasn't the smell," I told them. "It was the warmth emanating from inside. Magical warmth."

  Chapter 5

  "You sure?" Willie asked, reaching across the table for the bottle.

  Matt passed it to her. "Is the glass itself warm?"

  I shook my head. "It definitely came from inside. Matt, whatever was in that bottle had a spell put on it. If the contents of the bottle were magic then it can only mean that an apothecary magician is the murderer."

  Willie handed the bottle to Duke who sniffed, and then he handed it to Cyclops who also smelled it.

  "Is this how Cure-All is supposed to smell?" Cyclops asked me.

  "As far as I can recall," I said. "We can easily find another bottle and compare. Mrs. Bristow might have one."

  Matt rose and tugged on the bell pull. A moment later Bristow entered and Matt asked him to fetch a bottle Cure-All if his wife kept any. The butler left without batting an eyelid at the request.

  "Could it be anyone other than an apothecary magician?" Duke asked. "Could a spell have been placed on another liquid, like water, and that slipped into the bottle?"

  "Ain't no such thing as a water magician," Willie said.

  "How do you know?"

  "Because magic is in things that can be created. Watches, maps, medicines."

  "McArdle was a gold magician. Gold ain't created."

  "McArdle couldn't use his magic on gold still in its raw form," Matt told him, "only gold worked by a goldsmith."

  "Like them Roman coins," Willie said, shoveling beans into her mouth.

  "Beer," Duke said, "or wine. Those are created. If that kind of magician exists, they could have poured it into the bottle."

  Cyclops lifted his glass of wine. "We would have smelled beer or wine in the bottle."

  Bristow returned and handed the Cure-All to Matt before leaving again. Matt smelled both bottles then passed them to me.

  "They smell the same," I said, passing the bottles to Cyclops. "One thing we must remember is that the magic may already have vanished, no matter how it came to be in there."

  Everyone smelled both bottles and we all agreed they had the same scent. That didn't mean that a minute amount of magic-infused liquid couldn't have dripped in.

  "Ink," Matt blurted out. "Ink is a liquid."

  "Matt," I chided. "Mr. Barratt isn't a murderer."

  "Barratt flirted with her," he told the others, as if that explained my point of view.

  "He was charming," I said, "but I'm being perfectly objective. He had no reason to kill Hale."

  "That we know of yet."

  "I think India's right," Cyclops said. "I don't think he's the poisoner."

  "How can you know that?" Willie asked, no longer paying any attention to her food.

  He held up both bottles. "Since the contents of these smell the same, it's unlikely another substance was introduced, particularly one as noticeable as ink." He tipped a drop of each onto the tablecloth. They were both clear. Ink would have changed the color. "The magician must know how to turn the original medicine into poison. I ain't an expert, but I'd wager only an apothecary can do that."

  Matt stabbed a slice of beef with his fork. "You are probably right. But aside from Hale himself, we know of no other apothecary magicians."

  "Then we'll have to find one," I said. "We should start with Dr. Hale's business partner."

  "Agreed. We'll visit tomorrow morning." Matt studied one of the bottles. "There's an address at the bottom of the label: The Pitt Medicine Company, 167 New Bond Street. You and I will go, India. Cyclops, you'd better return the bottle to the hospital. The artless policemen and doctor won't find anything in it, but we should do the right thing."

  Cyclops looked at the bottles, side by side in front of Matt. "Which one's which?"

  I picked them both up and placed my hand over the openings. "This one contains the magic poison." I handed the bottle to Cyclops. "I'll return the other to Mrs. Bristow."

  "You coming with me back to the hospital?" Cyclops asked Willie. "We'll go tonight."

  "You can count on it," she said. "Ain't nothing to do here except teach Letty how to play poker."

  Matt narrowed his gaze at her. "Do not teach my aunt to play poker."

  Willie flashed him a smile and tucked into her food.

  I cornered Cyclops outside his room before he, Duke and Willie returned to the hospital. They'd decided to go late, when only a skeleton staff remained to take care of patients overnight.

  "Everything all right?" he asked with a frown. "Something wrong with Matt?"

  "Nothing like that," I reassured him. "I want to know how you're going to return the bottle to the hospital."

  He leaned one shoulder against the wall near the door and crossed his arms. The poorly lit corridor made his good eye seem darker, his face graver. "Is that all?"

  I bit the inside of my cheek. "Ye-e
s."

  "You don't want to know how I got past three constables and a doctor to steal that bottle?"

  "Well, now that you mention it, I did wonder."

  "It weren't too hard. Willie and Duke distracted them and I took the bottle."

  "How did Willie and Duke distract them? For that matter, how did you know the bottle was in the basement at all?"

  "One of the nurses was partial to a bit of ready."

  "You bribed her?"

  "Bribery's better than throwing punches."

  He had a point.

  "She told us the bottle was in the laboratory in the basement and who was watching it. The three of us acted like orderlies and went down. No one stopped us. Orderlies are like servants."

  "Invisible?"

  He nodded. "Once down there, Willie acted like a madwoman. She created a scene, babbling, frothing at the mouth, and the like. Two of the constables chased her. While they were gone, Duke and I put out the lamps. Ain't no windows down there to let in the light. The other constable came out to investigate. Willie's carrying on lured him further away. Duke and I went inside the laboratory, pretended to be orderlies and asked the doctor about a delivery. He didn't know what we were talking about, so he had to find the paperwork. When his back was turned, I slipped the bottle of Cure-All he'd been testing into my pocket and we walked out. Willie joined us on the stairs."

  I stared at him, stunned by their brazen theft. "Any number of things could have gone wrong. What if the constables hadn't chased Willie? What if the doctor had ordered you to leave without checking his paperwork?"

  He lifted one broad shoulder. "We would have changed tactic, tried something different. There were three of us and four of them. Two were as scrawny as a corn stalk. They wouldn't have put up much of a fight."

  "You would have thrown punches after all?"

  "We wouldn't have hurt any of them too bad."

  I was quite impressed that they'd managed to steal the bottle without anyone getting hurt but the lengths they would have gone to worried me. "What about putting it back tonight?" I asked.

  "It won't be so hard. The laboratory will be dark and no one will be about down there."

  "It'll be locked."

  "A locked door never stopped me before. Or Duke, or Willie."

  "Or Matt," I added. "Did you learn these skills from Matt's outlaw relatives?"

  "They learned that way." He pushed off from the wall. "My education didn't come from my family. It came from being chased all over Nevada by lawmen."

  A chill crept down my spine but I didn't shiver or show a sign that his words affected me. I didn't want him to think I feared him, because I did not. He was a good man, and lawmen weren't always honest. Sheriff Payne had proved that.

  The brow above his good eye lifted. "Are you going to ask why they chased me?"

  "I feel like I'm intruding on your privacy," I said carefully.

  He chuckled. "You English are too polite. How do you find out anything about anyone?"

  "We gossip about them behind their back."

  His rumbling laugh eased my mind. I laughed too.

  "I'll tell you another time," he said. "For now, I have a bottle of Dr. Hale's Cure-All to return to a hospital."

  The Pitt Medicine Company's shop in New Bond Street had more than ten times the jars and bottles on its shelves than Dr. Hale housed in his office. The labels of some claimed miraculous cures for all sorts of ailments, from headaches to bowel problems and everything in between. There was a surprising number for feminine complaints. If even half worked, the world would be a pain-free place, but having used some in the past, I knew few performed as well as their labels boasted. Pharmacists shouldn't be allowed to get away with such falsehoods.

  It wasn't the medicines, ointments and creams that drew my attention, however. It was the long case clock standing by the door like a guard, its pendulum swinging ponderously back and forth. Its rhythm called me, and I went to inspect it. With a frown, I pulled my watch out of my reticule. The clock was three minutes behind.

  Matt also had no interest in the medicines. He couldn't tear himself away from the large glass jars on the table containing curiosities suspended in fluid. He bent to inspect a collection of jars, one containing a yellow snake coiled in on itself, another with a claw from an indeterminate beast, and another with the skeletal remains of a rodent-like creature.

  I turned away and smiled at the bespectacled man behind the counter where a pyramid of Dr. Hale's Cure-All rose higher than his head. "Good morning. Are you Mr. Pitt?"

  "Indeed, I am, madam." He smiled and pushed his spectacles up his nose. He didn't look like a man who'd just lost his business partner. He was mid-thirties with a pleasant if somewhat pale face and eyes of such a light blue that they almost blended into the surrounding whites. "How may I help you and your husband?"

  "We're not married," I said. "Mr. Glass is a private inquiry agent, and I'm his assistant." Matt and I had discussed our roles in the carriage and decided a formal approach would work better in this instance, considering all the questions we had.

  "Partner," Matt said, tearing himself away from the curiosities. "Miss Steele is my partner, not my assistant. It's a recent promotion and she's not yet used to it."

  Mr. Pitt looked as surprised as I felt, although I tried to keep a benignly professional countenance. "Investigators?" Mr. Pitt said. "Is this to do with Jonathon's death?"

  "Dr. Hale's, yes."

  "I've already spoken to the police. I have nothing more to add."

  "Perhaps we'll have different questions," Matt went on, unperturbed.

  Pitt returned to unpacking empty jars from a wooden box on the counter. "Do you work for the guild?"

  "Which guild?"

  "The Apothecary's. Who else?"

  "I'm just checking that we're on the same page, Mr. Pitt." Matt's voice was all patience and civility, and Mr. Pitt looked a little ashamed of his own belligerent tone. "We don't work for the guild," Matt went on. "Our employer wishes to remain anonymous, however."

  He paused in his task. "Anonymous? Why?"

  "It's someone with an interest in seeing justice served. Someone who doesn't have faith in Scotland Yard."

  "I see," Mr. Pitt said carefully. "You have me intrigued, Mr. Glass, but as long as it's not the guild, I'll do my best to answer your questions."

  Why did he not like the guild making inquiries?

  "Do you know who Dr. Hale's heirs are?" Matt asked.

  "I do, as it happens." He gave us a flat-lipped humorless smile. "It's me."

  "You?" I blurted out. "Does he not have any family?"

  Mr. Pitt shook his head. "Not even distant relatives."

  "You were close to him?"

  "Not really, although he dined at my house, from time to time. My wife felt sorry for him, you see, and she asked him to join us once a week. She thought he was lonely, although I don't think he was. He just didn't care to make friends, and he never married. He never showed any interest. Jonathon was…odd. It wasn't that people disliked him; they simply didn't warm to him. I was the closest thing to a friend he had, so I suppose that's why he left it all to me." He held up a finger. "So he told me, anyway, when he made out his will three years ago. It's entirely possible he made another one since and gave his fortune to someone else. I'll discover tomorrow, when the will is read at his lawyer's office. My presence has been requested."

  He sounded very matter-of-fact, without a hint of sorrow for Hale's passing. If this man was the closest thing to a friend that the doctor had, it was rather sad.

  "Before your investigative brain begins to pin the murder on me," Mr. Pitt said, "may I point out that I was nowhere near the hospital that day. I am also already wealthy, thanks to the success of my Cure-All." He nodded at the pyramid. "I have no need of Jonathon's money."

  "Your Cure-All?" Matt plucked a jar from the top and made a show of inspecting it. "Dr. Hale's name is on the label."

  Mr. Pitt's nostrils flared. He g
ave Matt a cool smile. "I created it and asked him to put his name to it. Dr. Hale's Cure-All sounded better than Pitt's Cure-All. Hale and hearty and all that. Pitt conjures up pock marks."

  "Not to mention that it seems as though a doctor has endorsed it," Matt said.

  "A doctor has endorsed it. I can tell from your accent that you're not English, Mr. Glass, but I can assure you, my Cure-All has an excellent reputation here. Have you used it, Miss Steele?"

  "I have," I said. "I've found it of great benefit for all sorts of ailments." Perhaps that last was a little too effusive, but it certainly made Mr. Pitt smile. I'd rather have him on our side through a little flattery than not at all.

  "Excellent. I am so pleased to hear it. My wife swears by it. She says it settles the children to sleep when they're restless with an ache or pain, and it works wonders on the complaints that the fairer sex suffer."

  "Quite," I said tightly.

  "So, you see, Jonathon's death is causing my business problems." He glanced at the clock and shook his head. I was about to mention that it ran slow when he said, "It's mid-morning, and I haven't had a single customer. They stop out the front to ogle and whisper then move on without entering. I'll wring the neck of the murderer if I find him. He's ruining me."

  He'd more than ruined Dr. Hale, but I didn't point that out.

  "Is that because the newspapers revealed the poison was in a bottle of Cure-All?" Matt asked.

  Mr. Pitt nodded. "Bloody irresponsible of them, if you ask me, and quite unnecessary."

  A customer looked as if she were about to enter, but her companion shook her head, pointed at the bottles on the counter, and said something that made the first lady gasp. They bustled away.

  "I will weather this setback," Mr. Pitt said, resembling a general addressing his troops. "I'll change the name of it, if I must, although it will be costly to re-do the labels."

  "Not to mention a shame," I said. "For the memory of Dr. Hale, I mean."

  "Of course."

  "Did Dr. Hale have any enemies?" Matt asked. "Anyone who would want to see him dead?"

  "Perhaps," he hedged. "I don't like telling you this, but I know I must. I've already told the police. Jonathon mentioned an incident that happened two weeks ago. A man threatened him, you see. Someone we're both acquainted with, an apothecary. His name is Oakshot. He was the husband of one of Jonathon's patients who sadly passed away. He accused Jonathon of administering too much morphine. She was petite, and morphine is dangerous if the incorrect dose is given to an already ill patient. One must be careful."