Ainsley grew nervous at the suggestion.
“That’s okay,” Margaret said, accepting the envelope Julia presented to her. “I will take it over.”
“Without an escort?” Ainsley asked. “I daren’t ask how much money is there but anyone can see it’s a great deal.”
Margaret grew hardened at the suggestion. Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I would like to be more involved in things,” she suggested harshly. “Perhaps I don’t appreciate being held at arm’s-length from anything that could prove difficult.”
“Is this about the murder tour or the bank notes?” Ainsley asked, unable to hide his confusion.
Margaret glanced to the thick envelope she held before replying. “Both. You cannot treat me like a child forever, Peter. You are going to have to let me get my hands dirty.” The severity of her words contrasted her tantrum like actions. She stormed out of the library and Ainsley could hear her marked steps as she stomped her way up the stairs.
Ainsley closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. The evening had been long but the hour on the clock was not nearly as late as he expected.
“Maxwell told the staff to head to bed. We will reassemble the rooms in the morning,” Julia explained as she shifted her chair from one side of the table to the other.
As exhausted as he was Ainsley had no interest in going to sleep. The excitement of the evening and a terrible craving for a drink made him want to stay up to enjoy the quiet of the house. A part of him wished Julia would stay and keep him company. He opened his mouth to speak, his request there on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself.
Seeing his hesitation, Julia paused a moment and watched him. Transfixed on each other, the pair presented an interesting tableau for anyone who should enter. A foot from each other, both itching for contact, yet neither making the step that would bring them together.
“Good night, Mr. Marshall.” Julia lowered her gaze and turned.
“Good night.” Ainsley cursed himself when she left. Turning to look at the fire, Ainsley raked his hand through his hair again. Never before had he been so guarded with a woman. If he wanted someone he told them so, knowing often they felt the same. Most times girls were interested in a fling, a bit of excitement in their otherwise boring lives. Once or twice, though, he thought he may have broken a girl’s heart, but that could not be helped. He expected and promised nothing, relying on his reputation to precede him. His feelings for Julia, however, were entirely different if terribly confusing.
The main halls of the hospital, normally congested with nurses, doctors, porters and surgeons, were stark and empty, with only the muffled wails of a patient filtering in from some of the wards. Before Ainsley reached the back stairs to the morgue, he stopped at one of the doorways and peered in. A gathering of hospital staff had their backs to him, facing something in the center of the room. Suddenly, the crowd burst into applause. Intrigued, Ainsley craned his neck to see what the fanfare was about.
A familiar voice grew from the wall of people. “I am indebted to you, Doctor Davies,” the man said, “for now and for always.”
Someone stepped away and Ainsley was able to see who spoke. Instantly, he recognized Sir Gilbert Radcliffe, a distinguished figure in the House of Lords, and personal friend to Ainsley’s father. The gathering burst into applause again. Nurses rushed passed him, giggling and fanning themselves. Ainsley slipped into the hall, placing his back to the wall, and waited. He could not risk being recognized. When Sidney came from the room, Ainsley stepped alongside him and kept pace as they walked toward the back stairs.
“What was that about?” Ainsley asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Sir Radcliffe had not seen him.
“Doctor Davies saved the Lordship’s life,” Sidney explained.
Ainsley snorted. “Doctors save patients all the time,” he said with a shrug.
“Doctor Davies was at the theatre when Sir Radcliffe collapsed. He restarted His Lordship’s heart right there in the aisle.”
The pair started their descent down to the colder depths of the hospital. Ainsley grew quiet. He had tried to restart a heart once.
“I wish I could have been there,” Sidney said gleefully. “Just to see how he had done it.”
“Dr. Ainsley.” The gruff voice of Dr. Crawford stopped both of them in their tracks. Ainsley turned and saw Crawford peering out from his office door. “A moment, before you get started, please.”
Ainsley closed the door when he entered and prepared himself. There were innumerable things Dr. Crawford could admonish him for, the largest of which was the five bodies that remained in the morgue and that Ainsley refused to release.
“Yes, sir.”
“Benjamin Catch. Where is he?”
“Pardon, sir.”
“Where is he? He hasn’t reported for work today.” Crawford scowled at Ainsley, no doubt blaming him for convincing to take the boy on. “I am not running a charity here, Ainsley. If he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid.”
“I don’t understand,” Ainsley said. “He should have been here.”
“Well, he’s not.” Crawford fell back into his chair, huffing heavily as he did so. “I have held up my part of the bargain, so don’t hold me liable on that account.”
Ainsley shook his head though he hardly heard what the head morgue surgeon was saying. “What time did he leave yesterday?” Ainsley asked as he stood to look at the log sheets he knew Crawford kept on his desk.
Crawford looked at Ainsley doubtfully before glancing over the paper. “Says here he left at seven.”
Ainsley himself had left early to prepare for Margaret’s auction. He had not been here when Benjamin was finally dismissed for the day. Ben was a hard worker; Ainsley could see that already in the short time he had known him. Something about the kid endeared Ainsley to him.
“I have little care for what my workers do after they leave those doors,” Crawford explained. “I only care that they arrive on time, sober and not smelling like last week’s soup.”
Ainsley stood up suddenly. “Do I have your permission to search for him?” He wondered if Simms had gone back on his word. Perhaps he made an enticing offer to Benjamin to lure the killer forward. Not much of an offer was needed, though. Ben would have done anything to catch his friend’s killer and like all adolescents he most likely thought he was invincible.
“Search for him? What in God’s name for?” Crawford snarled and shook his head. “I only told you so you would keep your end of the bargain. I have kept mine, even though Benjamin has failed us both.”
“I’m afraid—” Ainsley stopped himself. He doubted Crawford would have any sympathy for the child.
“Afraid of what?” Crawford asked.
Ainsley shook his head and turned to leave.
“Your commitment is not filled,” Crawford yelled after him. “Do you hear me, Ainsley? Don’t disappoint me now.”
Ainsley could still hear the voice of his superior in his head as he made his way to the morgue. The chill of the room hit him suddenly as he walked in and then his brain registered the smell. Sidney was already prepped and waiting at the examination table, where a fresh corpse was laid out. Ainsley wondered how he could concentrate at all while knowing Benjamin was out there, possibly dead at the hands of the monster Ainsley had failed to track. He blamed Simms and would never forgive the detective if anything happened to the boy.
“Are you okay, Dr. Ainsley?” Sidney asked as Ainsley made his way down the aisle.
Ainsley waved his concern away and prepared himself for their first corpse. The morning dragged on, though tasks had become less tedious due to Sidney’s growing knowledge. For the most part, Ainsley stood back while Sidney asked questions and did as Ainsley said. The only consolation of the day was the knowledge that soon Ainsley would be rid of him. He wouldn’t need Ainsley’s tutelage for much longer.
Before midday, the morgue door opened and Ainsley turned. Seeing Inspector Simms, Ainsley
stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. “How much money did you offer him?” Ainsley asked, trying to steel himself to the news.
“What do you mean?” Simms asked.
“Benjamin Catch has not come to work today,” Ainsley explained. “You said you didn’t need my permission but I thought you’d at least let me know before you set the snares.”
Simms shook his head. “No. Ainsley, I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Using the slab behind him to stabilize himself, Ainsley closed his eyes. The sun had risen and no new bodies had been reported and that should have alleviated his fears—but it didn’t.
“You’re worried.”
Ainsley untied his leather apron and hung it on its hook.
“Doctor Ainsley, where are you going?” Sidney asked, paused over the body he had been instructed to dissect.
“The orphanage,” he answered gruffly. “To check on Ben.”
Simms followed him out the door, neither one stopping to give Sidney any further instructions.
The common room of the orphanage mirrored the gloom of the city streets outside. The air felt damp and the wide eyes that looked up at Ainsley and Simms as they entered looked equally miserable. When Ainsley looked to the stove he found no fire or means of warmth; even a small one would have done wonders to the feeling in that room.
After removing his soggy coat and hat, draping it over a vacant chair at the door, Ainsley scanned the room for Mrs. Holliwell while Simms hovered at the door, hat in hand. The children, girls mostly, sat cross-legged on the floor, their hands clutching cords of frayed jute rope.
“Mrs. Holliwell is unwell today, sir,” one of the older girls said. Three smaller girls seated beside her began to tug at her arm but she batted them away.
Ainsley’s scowl deepened when he saw the girl’s hands bleeding at the fingertips. Kneeling, he grabbed the hands of the girl nearest him. Small abrasions littered her palms but her fingertips suffered the most. He fingered the ropes and found the fibers coarse and unforgiving.
“Is this the entirety of your lessons today?” Ainsley asked.
No one seemed willing to answer and they all avoided his gaze as he surveyed the room. Ainsley looked to Simms at the door.
“Who is in charge today?” Simms asked.
The older one who had spoken to Ainsley earlier pointed a red finger toward the far door that Ainsley knew would take him to the office. “Ms. Green, sir.”
Together, doctor and detective went for the office and found a rather stern-looking woman seated behind the desk. She was slender to the point of gauntness and her thin grey hair pulled taut into a bun betrayed her advanced age. Her expression did not alight at the sight of them, nor did she move to greet them. She glanced from her ledger in front of her, moving nothing but her eyes.
“Ms. Green?” Ainsley slipped into the room. “We are looking for a boy named Benjamin Catch. He did not report to work today. You may have kept him here unaware of his apprenticeship at the hospital.”
“I am aware of everything, Mr. Marshall,” Ms. Green said quickly. “He is not here.”
“Where may he be?” Simms asked.
Only then did the woman behind the desk tilt her head to the side slightly, remarkably like a bird surveying a caterpillar before it strikes. “Am I to know the exact whereabouts of all my charges? If the boy has run away it cannot be my responsibility—”
“He is in your care!” Ainsley couldn’t fight down the anger that rose inside him. He leaned into the desk, pressing his knuckles into the hard surface as his hands rolled into fists.
Without flinching, Ms. Green stood. She tightened her jaw and met Ainsley’s gaze squarely. “He may be in our care but I cannot afford to take an interest in all the children who darken our doors.”
“Isn’t that what you are employed for?” Ainsley charged.
“My job is to ensure these books balance. That is all.” Ms. Green pulled in her chair and sat. “Good day to you both.” She reset her spectacles on her nose and returned her attention to the ledger.
Begrudgingly, Ainsley left the room, slipping into the bevy of children that worked steadily in the adjoining room. “I wonder if Mrs. Holliwell knows the children are subjected to this when she’s not here,” Ainsley said as they walked back through the common room. He stopped at a pile of oakum waiting to be unraveled.
“It must be part of her bookkeeping,” Simms offered, turning over one of the knotted lumps with the toe of his boot.
“Mrs. Holliwell doesn’t live far from here,” Ainsley said, heading for his coat and hat at the door. “Let’s see if she knows where Benjamin is.”
The house Mrs. Holliwell shared with her son was a standard red brick row house, slender yet towering four storeys above Ainsley and Simms’s heads as they stood on the stoop. The doorbell rang faintly and then they heard footsteps approaching the door.
“Mrs. Holliwell?” Ainsley said as the door creaked open slightly. He stepped forward trying to peek around the opening. “It’s Peter Marshall and Inspector Simms.”
Mrs. Holliwell appeared, peering around the edge of the door carefully. “My apologies, gentlemen,” she said. “I am not feeling well today.”
“We understand that, Mrs. Holliwell, but we’re searching for a child and the matron left in charge at the orphanage is not being cooperative,” Simms explained.
Mrs. Holliwell’s gaze shot up from the floor. “Who is missing?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Benjamin Catch, ma’am,” Ainsley answered. “He has not shown up for his job at the hospital.”
Mrs. Holliwell backed away from the door and as she did so raised a trembling hand to her mouth.
Ainsley pushed the door in and prevented her from collapsing to the floor. “Ma’am?”
Mrs. Holliwell looked up and revealed a deep purple bruise on her left cheek surrounding her eye, and a small cut to the corner of her mouth. She looked terrified, her spirit broken.
Ainsley clasped her with both hands, partly to keep her from recoiling in shame and partly to look over her wounds as a doctor.
“Who did this to you?” Simms asked from behind Ainsley. He shut the door, cutting off the light and noise from the outside.
“I’ll wager a guess,” Ainsley answered sharply. He could feel his back teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw.
“He’s a good man,” Mrs. Holliwell protested. “Just passionate, is all.”
Simms stepped past them into the parlour, surveying the room with a detective’s eye. Mrs. Holliwell wiped away some tears as Ainsley led her to one of the chairs. With her seated, he raised her chin with his fingers and looked over her wound. The wounds were fresh, the worst of it pooled just below the surface while the less damaged tissue looked as if it was already healing. He took her arm, pushing back the lace of her sleeves, and found a grouping of smaller bruises on her right arm. It looked like she had been pulled by the wrist, and the others told him she had raised her arms defensively.
“How often?” Ainsley asked, trying to keep a professional calm, all the while feeling nothing but a deep hatred for the man she called son.
“Please don’t tell him you saw. He already apologized. I’d hate to embarrass him,” Mrs. Holliwell explained, switching her gaze between Ainsley and Simms. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to dry her eyes. “He’s angry because I spend so much time at the orphanage, you see.” Mrs. Holliwell glanced around the tattered room. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a housekeeper. I spend too much time with the children.”
Ainsley hung his head and closed his eyes. There was something about Elliot he had never liked but he could not put his finger on it. Elliot held such contempt for his mother’s chosen profession and, as man of the house, Ainsley supposed he felt entitled to express his displeasure.
“He wants me to resign, you see,” she said with a sniffle, “with the papers writing such awful things about the orphanage. He’s afraid for our reputation, that�
�s all. I said no, of course.”
“So he beat you,” Ainsley said with a breath. He stood up from his crouching position, and began to pace the room, if only to expel the rage that was quickly gathering inside him.
“When did you have this discussion with you son?” Simms asked.
Mrs. Holliwell hesitated, so Ainsley spoke up. “Yesterday,” he said to Mrs. Holliwell’s surprise. “Your bruises,” he said quickly. “Some are healing. He hit you hard, though, and the dark purple tinge indicates deep tissue damage.”
The orphanage matron shook her head in disbelief before nodding when she looked to the detective. “He’s right. It was last evening, at the dinner hour.”
“Is that when Benjamin went missing?” Simms asked Ainsley, who nodded.
Mrs. Holliwell shifted forward in her chair. “Oh no,” she said quickly, extending a hand to stop their line of thinking. “He’s not capable of such... whatever it is you think he did. He couldn’t have. Oh, dear me.” She raised her hand to her mouth and began to cry again. It appeared as if she suddenly thought it possible.
“After he hurt you, did he stay here?” Ainsley asked.
“I can’t remember,” Mrs. Holliwell said. “No, wait, he did leave. It was very late. He knocked on my bedroom door and said he was going out. I was too scared to let him in.” She pressed both hands to her face and wailed.
“What do you say we pay him a little surprise visit,” Ainsley suggested.
“I was going to say the same thing,” Simms answered.
“No, please, he’ll know we talked,” Mrs. Holliwell pleaded. She stood and walked to Ainsley, her handkerchief clenched in a fist. Ainsley held her shoulders and looked her in the eyes to comfort her. “I’m going to see to it he never hurts you again.”
Chapter 25
With sense of loss.
Elliot Holliwell’s accounting office was located within four blocks of the orphanage and the Holliwell home. Ainsley charged up a slender set of stairs and burst through the door at the top of the stairwell. A female secretary jumped in her chair at the sound of the door bounding open, but Ainsley blew right passed her.
The Dead Among Us Page 20
