The Magician's Diary

by C. J. Archer

  Like Dr. Millroy.

  "A child claimed to have seen the killer leave the scene," I said. "Were you that child?"

  "My brother," our informant said. "He liked to come out here at night when our Ma was working and Pa slept."

  "Where can we find him now?"

  "Pauper's grave in Kensal Green." She laughed at her joke, a brittle sound that ended in a dry cough.

  "Did your brother tell you anything of note about the killer?" Matt asked.

  "He said he were a man, but he couldn't see his face. Said he just walked away, all calm like, wiping the blood off his knife on his coat. He weren't in no hurry to get away." She adjusted her shawl at her neck again. "Who kills someone then don't run off? That's what got me."

  "Did your brother see the killer steal anything from the body?"

  "He thought so. The killer was at the body's side for a bit after, so he prob'ly did. I would of. The dead don't need chattels no more."

  "You said you saw the victim's face," I said. "Had you, or anyone living here, seen him before?"

  "No. They told us he were a doctor." She shrugged thin shoulders, dislodging her shawl again. "He were a stranger. He didn't do his doctoring round here." She snorted a laugh.

  "Any thoughts on why he might have been in Bright Court at all then?" Matt asked.

  Another shrug of her shoulders. "He got lost after visiting a whorehouse." She flashed a grin at me. "That shock you, miss?"

  "Not at all," I said. "I don't suppose there was a whorehouse operating within Bright Court at the time?"

  Her grin slipped. "We're respectable women here!"

  "I'm sure you are. But what about then?"

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. The movement did not distract from the direction of her gaze. It slid to where the body of Dr. Millroy had been found. Then it shifted to the door.

  "Is there something you want to tell us?" I prompted.

  "May be, but gawd, I'm starving." At that moment, two children burst out of the nearby door, cursing one another at the top of their lungs. "My little uns be starving too. I got to go see what I can scrape together for 'em." She did not move off.

  Matt took the hint and handed her two more coins. They vanished like magic into her skirt.

  "Old Nell had men call on her sometimes," she said. "There was always enough food on the table for her and her baby, her brother too. We children guessed why, partic'ly because our mothers never liked her."

  "They didn't like her because she was a prostitute?" I asked.

  "Aye, but because Old Nell thought she were better than them too. She were hoity toity then and is even worse now, on account of her son doing all right for himself."

  "What sort of clients came and went from her lodgings?" I asked. "Were they men like Dr. Millroy?"

  She mused on that for a moment before finally nodding. "Makes sense, but she never said nothing about him being known to her at the time."

  Why would she if she had something to do with his murder? Even if she didn't, she wouldn't want to attract the attention of the police or more hostility from her neighbors.

  "Anyways, her customers weren't gentlemen like him," the woman said as her children ran past again, still shouting at one another. "But they weren't the worst sort, neither. Laborers with a bit of ready to spend, mostly. Her brother found 'em for her. He used to live with her but he's long gone."

  "And her baby?" Matt asked. "Is that the son you spoke of, now doing well for himself?"

  The question took her by surprise. "Aye. Jack no longer lives there but he visits reg'lar. But he can't tell you nothing from those days. He were a mere babe."

  "She still lives in that tenement?" Matt asked, nodding at the door near where Dr. Millroy's body had been found.

  "Aye." She shifted her weight. "If you got more questions, then I got to ask for more coin. It's the children, see. They're starving."

  Matt handed her another coin. "Where do you want this pail?"

  She stared at him with round eyes, as if she'd expected him to drop the pail now that he'd got what he wanted from her. "Inside."

  "India, come with me."

  I followed the woman and Matt in, passing by the two children, a boy and a girl, who stopped arguing long enough to watch us. The tenement was clean, although a damp odor came from the walls and the floorboards were uneven. We bypassed a staircase leading up to another family's residence and headed along the short corridor. The tenement comprised of two rooms downstairs, one a bedroom with two sagging beds in it and mattresses on the floor, and the other a kitchen and sitting room all in one. Matt set the pail down on the floor by the table, thanked the woman, then headed back outside.

  "You ask Old Nell the delicate questions," Matt said, offering me his arm without looking at me. His eyes were fixed on the door near where Dr. Millroy's body was found. "You're better at that than I am."

  "I don't necessarily agree," I said, taking his arm. "We'll see what sort of woman she is. She might respond to your charms better than my direct questions."

  He laughed softly, and I was pleased that he was in a good mood. I wondered how much it had to do with the fact we were about to speak to the woman who might have been Dr. Millroy's mistress and her son Dr. Millroy's son—we could be on the brink of finding a medical magician.

  Matt rapped firmly on the door and a voice from the depths ordered us to leave her alone. Matt knocked again.

  "Go away you filthy little devils before I set my Jack onto you!"

  "Just go in," said the woman sweating over the boiling copper. "She don't get out of bed no more, and the children sometimes play nick-knocking to set her off. And sir?"

  "Yes?"

  "Don't believe everything Maisie tells you." She nodded at the neighbor's house where we'd just been. "She'll say anything for a bit o' ready. That information's for free." She grabbed the staff with both hands and stirred the laundry. Behind her, a shirt hanging over a line dripped into the muddy puddle.

  "Do you know anything about the murder of Dr. Millroy, some twenty-seven years ago?" Matt asked her.

  She shook her head. "Before my time."

  "We're back at the beginning if we can't believe Maisie," I said to Matt as we studied the door.

  "Perhaps. Or perhaps we have to untangle the truths from the lies. Most lies incorporate some of the truth for authenticity."

  I squeezed his arm. "Let's see what Old Nell has to say."

  He opened the door and headed into the gloom. It took my eyes several moments to adjust to the dark. When they did, I realized the layout was similar to Maisie's place, with a narrow staircase leading up to our left and an equally narrow hall on the right. Straight ahead, at the end of the hallway, was the kitchen. Someone moved around back there, chopping. Cooking smells wafted up to us. It was a pleasant change to the damp odor of Maisie's rooms and the smoke from the fire beneath the copper.

  We headed toward the kitchen but stopped at a door behind the staircase. It was open and led to a bedroom. A woman sat up in bed, propped against a pillow, her eyes closed. She wasn't as old as Chronos, but she was past middle age, and only the ghosts of her beauty remained in the high cheekbones and full lips. A thick blanket covered most of the bedspread and another was folded on the chair tucked into the dressing table by the wardrobe. On the dressing table was a white enamel hand mirror and matching brush, and on the table beside the bed, a lamp glowed softly. A tin of sugared sweets sat open, half empty. This was not the bedroom of a woman struggling to make ends meet. It was simple, but not filthy, damp or sparse. Someone took good care of Old Nell.

  Matt nudged me.

  I cleared my throat. "Nell?" I said, wishing I'd learned her last name from the neighbors.

  Her eyes opened and her mouth worked furiously. I thought she was struggling to speak but then she made a sucking sound, and I realized she had one of the sweets in her mouth. "Who're you?" Her voice was another thing I wasn't expecting. It was strong and deep for a woman, and not a
t all thin or frail like the figure in the bed.

  "My name is Mrs. Wright and this is my husband," I said, using the false names we'd decided upon on the way.

  Nell's gaze flicked over me but lingered on Matt. She arranged her long white hair over her shoulder and picked up the tin. She smiled, revealing a patchwork of teeth. "Sweet?"

  It took me a moment to realize she was offering him one of the confections from the tin but not me.

  He popped a sweet in his mouth. "Mmmm. My favorites. I buy them from Oxford Street." He inspected the label on the side of the tin. "Where's this shop?"

  "I don't know. My son buys them. He's very good to me."

  If her son was the source of the sweets, blankets and trinkets, then he was indeed doing well. He had more money at his disposal than most East Enders. Because he was a doctor? Or, if not a university trained doctor, at least some sort of healer?

  I was about to question Nell when she said to Matt, "You're not an Englishman."

  "I'm lately from America."

  "How exotic."

  He complimented her on the smells coming from the kitchen. "Is it cake?"

  She sniffed. "I don't know. Mary will know. Mary! She's deaf," she added, quieter. "If I don't shout, she won't hear me. Mary!"

  A young woman entered but stopped inside the doorway when she saw us and gasped. She must indeed be hard of hearing if she hadn't heard us enter.

  "Mary, this is Mr. Wright and his wife," Nell said. "Are you baking?"

  "A cake for Jack." Mary blushed. "He seemed a mite unhappy last time he were here so I wanted to cheer him up."

  "Jack is fine. He's always fine. Fetch cake and tea, Mary. I have guests."

  "We can't stay," I said. "We have a few questions we need to ask you and then we'll be on our way."

  Nell's face fell. "Pity. I get so few visitors now. Not like the old days." She chuckled into her chin. "Such a time I used to have when I was younger. I was real pretty. My hair was blonde and it curled real nice too."

  "It's still beautiful hair," Matt said gently.

  Nell smiled. "Off with you, Mary."

  "Yes, Miss Sweet." The woman bobbed a curtsy and left.

  "She's not good company," Nell said. "And she's rather plain to look at, but she don't cost my son much, on account of no one else wants her. She's had it hard too. Hard like me. But Mary and me, we're soldiers. We fall down, then get back up again."

  "Mary's very lucky to have you and your son," Matt said. "Not everyone is so fortunate."

  "Aye, true."

  "Did she call you Miss Sweet?" Matt asked with an arch of his brow and a smile on his lips. He indicated the tin. "Sweets for Sweet?"

  Nell giggled. "Does your wife know you're a flirt?"

  "Actually, I do," I said.

  Nell's smile faded, and I decided to stay quiet. Matt would do better without me where Nell Sweet was concerned, if he ever got around to asking her questions about the murder. He seemed to want to talk to her about everything else excerpt that.

  "Your son must be an excellent fellow," Matt said. "I find gentlemen who take care of their mothers usually are." I thought calling the son of a fallen woman a gentleman was a stretch but bit my tongue.

  Nell smiled. "Do you have children, Mr. Wright?"

  "Not yet."

  "Well, don't leave it too long." She looked at me. "She's not getting any younger."

  I bit my tongue harder.

  "Where does Jack work?" Matt asked.

  "In a shop in a good part of London, that's what he said."

  "In what trade?"

  "Fixing things. That's my Jack, always fixing things."

  "What sort of things?"

  People, I willed her to say.

  "I don't know." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I'm right glad he got himself a reg'lar job, out of Whitechapel. The people round here, they'll lie to your face and sell their own mother for a bob. But my son is a good boy. He cares about his old mum."

  "And his father?"

  "Dead." She lowered her gaze to her lap. "God rest his useless soul."

  "When did he die?"

  "A long time ago. Years and years."

  "What was his name?"

  She blinked hard at him and tilted her head to the side. "Why do you want to know?"

  Matt put up his hands. "I'm merely curious."

  Nell replaced the lid on the tin of sweets. "What do you want?" It would seem she'd suddenly woken up to his charming tactic. Perhaps questions about Jack's father made her close up.

  "One of your neighbors suggested we speak to you," I said. "We have questions about an old crime that was committed here. Do you remember the murder of Dr. Millroy? His body was found just outside your door."

  "I know that. Course I remember. I'm old, not daft."

  "Did you see the body?"

  "No."

  "Do you know why he was in Bright Court?"

  "Course not. Why would I?"

  "So he didn't come to see you?"

  She crooked her finger, beckoning me. I cautiously stepped closer. "Look here, Mrs. Wright," she sneered in my ear, "I didn't need no doctor then. You prob'ly heard how I got by in those days, how I put food on the table for my brother and son."

  I felt my face redden despite my efforts not to be embarrassed. It was one thing to discuss prostitution, but quite another to discuss it with the prostitute herself.

  Nell poked me in the shoulder with more strength in her bony finger than I expected from a frail old woman. "That Maisie's got a vicious tongue on her and likes to spread lies about me whenever she can. Well, let me tell you, I was clean. That doctor never came here. He died outside my door, but that ain't my fault."

  "What about someone else visiting you that night?" Matt asked. "Could one of your…guests have known him?"

  "I don't remember if I had any callers that night. It were too long ago."

  "What about your brother?"

  She sighed and shook her head. "It weren't him," she said with no anger in her tone. "He was gone by then. Ask anyone."

  "Gone?"

  Her big blue eyes filled with tears. "I don't know where he went." She sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her eye.

  Matt patted Nell's hand. "Thank you," he said. "Can we come back if we have more questions?"

  "No. You can come back if you want to sit with me and share my sweets, but not if you've got questions. I don't like talking about the past. Unless it's about Jack. You can come and talk about Jack any time."

  I thanked her too and we left, seeing ourselves out. We crossed the yard, and my spine tingled with a chill. Nell's neighbors watched us, I was sure of it, although the yard was entirely deserted. Only the unattended copper boiled away over the fire, and two shirts now hung on the line. I couldn't even hear the sounds of Maisie's children fighting with one another.

  "Everything all right, Duke?" Matt asked as we reached the coach.

  Duke stood by the horse, his hand on its nose. "Aye. Just some stares and a cheeky lad climbed in."

  Matt chuckled. "Thought one would try."

  "He enjoyed his few minutes playing lord of the manor with his friends guffawing from the pavement."

  "We'll proceed to Mrs. Millroy's house," Matt said, opening the door for me. "Then return home for lunch."

  And a rest, I knew, but didn't say.

  "I was thinking of something else," Duke said. "I got bored while I waited so I asked some of the folk if they knew about a society offering shelter for the homeless near here. You see, I started wondering if the vagrant what Chronos and Dr. Millroy experimented on was really homeless, or if he'd tried to get into one of them charitable establishments or maybe a workhouse. I don't see a reason for any man to live on the street if he don't have to. There's one in Bethnal Green, not far from here, and Chronos said he and Millroy picked up Mr. Wilson in Bethnal Green. I reckon we should go now since we're close."

  "It might be worth trying," I said to Matt. "Someone may remember
him."

  "It was so long ago," Matt said. "It's unlikely any of the staff who were there then are still there now."

  "They might keep records. We know he was named Wilson. Lets visit this one then leave it at that if it's a waste of time."

  Matt stroked the horse's flank. "You're right. We'll see what we can unearth, but there's no way we can get to all the shelters and workhouses. I suppose if Wilson did try to find shelter that night, he would likely have gone to the one in Bethnal Green."

  I climbed into the carriage and Matt followed. Duke folded up the step and the carriage dipped as he climbed up to the driver's seat. Matt removed his hat and scrubbed his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. He stretched out his legs, angling them to the side for maximum space. I did not ask how he felt. He looked in no mood to tell me the truth anyway.

  "Do you think Nell could have been Dr. Millroy's mistress?" I asked, deciding it was best to keep his mind occupied. "She claims she was beautiful back then, and I believe her."

  "I'm not sure beauty is enough."

  "It is for some men. Indeed, for many, it's the only thing that matters."

  He huffed softly as he watched Whitechapel slip past in an endless stream of gray. "Any man who says that is an utter fool who does not appreciate good conversation and wit. Anyway." He finally turned to me. There was no sign of the charmer who'd made Old Nell blush. "For one thing, it seems she was still…being attended upon by other clients then. I would expect a well-to-do doctor to demand exclusivity."

  I pulled a face. "I can't believe we're discussing this as if she were a box at the opera. It's so sordid."

  "It's a sordid business, but make no mistake, her profession is a business. However, I still don't think she was his mistress." He turned back to the window. "For a few minutes I thought we'd found Dr. Millroy's bastard son. I thought she was his mistress and her son, Jack, the illegitimate child. Then it fell apart somehow. I'm not even sure when."