Private Dicks

by Samantha M. Derr

  Jamie spends his free time away from Hallingsworth translating the pamphlet by Karl Marx which Hallingsworth had given him the first night they had dined together. He also talks to some of Hallingsworth's students. The students, he finds, adore Hallingsworth; although they find him demanding as an instructor, they love him for his willingness to drop everything in favor of assisting them with their work, which he never attempts to take credit for. It is also well known that Hallingsworth and the late Professor Brown had not seen eye to eye, mostly about Hallingsworth's tardiness with regards to his own work and his rather radical views on education.

  Of those beliefs, Jamie gleans that Hallingsworth believes in the education of women and the lower classes. These beliefs stem from Hallingsworth's love of the writings of Karl Marx.

  Marx, Jamie admits, is interesting in an extremely radical kind of way, at least from what he can parse out using his minimal understanding of German. However, Jamie hardly sees him as a man to be taken very seriously, even if Hallingsworth clearly does.

  Jamie tries to imagine Hallingsworth with all his strange beliefs and fanciful ideas as some kind of political mastermind or assassin, but he can't seem to manage it. He tries to imagine Hallingsworth assaulting someone in a fit of anger, but cannot imagine him doing so with any kind of firearm. It seems very much against the character of the man Jamie has been working with. Even if he and Brown had gotten into some kind of altercation, Jamie can only imagine Hallingsworth becoming red in the face before wandering off to take his anger out on some new invention or other.

  As the weeks pass, Jamie begins to feel his life at the college is becoming almost normal. A little too normal.

  "Hartgrove." Jamie turns in his chair to see Del Martin coming towards him across the green. She's dressed in a striking turquoise waistcoat with black top hat. "I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to my workshop?" She gives him a considering look for a moment. "The way there is flat and should be free of obstacles for your chair." She smiles at him. "I believe Hallingsworth is already there, and Emerson should be joining us soon."

  "I would like that." Jamie guides his chair beside her as they head off towards a part of the university he's never been to before. "I have been looking forward to the opportunity to meet Mr. Emerson," he admits.

  "He is a brilliant man," Del Martin acknowledges with a small smile. She gives Jamie a sidelong glance he can't quite read. "Hallingsworth holds him in very high regard."

  "So I gather." It comes out a little terser then Jamie intends. There had obviously been something more there though when Hallingsworth had spoken of Emerson, and it makes Jamie feel strangely unsettled.

  Del Martin laughs at that before sobering again. "You don't need to be jealous, you know," she says after a moment. "They are friends, but they have not been companions in anything other than work for over a decade, long before I knew either of them in fact. Hallingsworth still very much admires and looks up to Emerson, but there is no longer a strong emotional bond between the two. Emerson is very much dedicated to his wife, after all."

  Jamie doesn't quite know what to say to that or the obvious assumption on Del Martin's part that Jamie's own feelings for Hallingsworth run deeper then friendship. It is correct, but still not something Jamie wants to be quite that transparent about.

  Jamie brings his chair to a halt with a soft whirring while Del Martin pulls the sliding door open.

  The workroom itself is large and long, with brick walls and a wooden floor. Most of the room, however, is taken up by what is most possibly the strangest looking machine Jamie has ever seen. The thing is huge and looks very much like a giant metal ship, with a deep metal hull and different decks and railings around the edge of the main deck. The strange ship has no sails, only large canvass wings stretching out to either side with a wide fan like canvass tail behind it. A huge canvass hot air balloon floats above it, tethered to the ship with many long steel cables. Jamie isn't quite sure what exactly to make of it and can't stop himself from staring.

  "My airship." Del Martin gestures to the ship as she strides forward, Jamie right behind her. "It does not fly at the moment, but one day it will sail through the air as surely as a steamship sails the ocean." They both look at the ship wordlessly for a few moments before Del Martin clasps her hands together. "To work then."

  When Jamie tears his eyes away from the ship, he sees Hallingsworth bent over a table by the ship, looking over what seem to be sketches and plans. He moves towards Jamie as Del Martin bustles away to hang their hats and coat. Hallingsworth is in his usual state of disarray, sleeves rolled up as is his wont when he works, and he smiles at Jamie and beckons him over to the table.

  "Come look at these plans and tell me your thoughts." Hallingsworth leads him back to the table with the sketches and Jamie follows. Though he examines the plans closely, Jamie can't help but feel woefully inadequate at times like this, given his completely lack of engineering knowledge.

  Behind them, the door to the laboratory bangs open and Jamie turns to see a short but well-built man with long, dark sideburns and wild hair come through the door. He hangs up his coat and top hat before slinging his jacket across a worktable.

  Del Martin pops up from wherever she had been working on the ship and waves at the newcomer. "Emerson!"

  Hallingsworth's attention properly snared, he breaks into a wide grin and strides across the room to greet Emerson with a handshake. "So good to see you," Hallingsworth exclaims. "It's wonderful that you could make it. Please, let me introduce you to my new research assistant, Mr. James Hartgrove. Hartgrove, meet Mr. William Basil Emerson."

  Jamie takes Emerson's massive hand, noting his heavily muscled arms and his strong, firm handshake.

  "I was just showing Hartgrove Del Martin's latest sketches," Hallingsworth says, waving Emerson over to the worktable. "Here, take a look."

  He leads Emerson back to the table the sketches are spread across, and Jamie watches them both lean together over the table. Something strange lodges itself within Jamie's chest and he turns his chair around to look up at the massive ship instead.

  Jamie moves himself over to the worktable once the other men move away and starts collecting and organizing notes. Hallingsworth is still chatting animatedly with Emerson as they make their way around the ship and up onto the deck. Above him, he can clearly hear Emerson's low rumbling voice, Del Martin's higher laugh, and Hallingsworth's voice cutting in, talking fast and with great emotion although Jamie can't quite catch the words.

  Suddenly, everyone above him seems to be yelling, and Jamie shifts in his chair, looking around in time to see Hallingsworth fall backwards over the edge of the deck and plummet to the ground.

  It is as if time moves more slowly because Jamie is suddenly highly aware of everything but unable to move. Hallingsworth falls straight through one of the wings and lands on a worktable, several worktables away from the one Jamie is sitting at, with a sickening crash.

  Then Jamie is moving. The first thought that goes through his mind is to make sure that Hallingsworth hasn't broken his neck. He moves over to the table and finds that Hallingsworth is, thank God, still conscious, if obviously disoriented. Jamie rests one hand on the side of Hallingsworth's head while he examines his neck for any outward signs of damage. There is blood seeping from the back of Hallingsworth's head.

  Jamie feels sick, but pushes away the emotions trying to rise. He needs to stay calm.

  "Can you feel your feet?" Jamie asks as Hallingsworth blinks up at him. He seems confused, but he does manage to kick his legs enough for Jamie to be sure he still can move his legs. Jamie breathes a small sigh of relief.

  Emerson and Del Martin round the side of the ship at a run, halting next to Jamie.

  "His neck is not broken," Jamie informs them. "He does seem to be injured on the back of the head though." He gently turns Hallingsworth's head so he can see the injury more closely. It bleeds profusely, matting his hair with blood, but it doesn't look deep enough
to be dangerous.

  "Stupid," Hallingsworth croaks while Del Martin pats him down looking for broken bones. "I just tripped."

  "We should get him back to his rooms," Jamie tells them. Emerson nods.

  Between Del Martin and Emerson, they manage to support Hallingsworth and half carry him back to his rooms; Jamie feels more than useless taking up the rear. They set Hallingsworth gently on the settee while Del Martin goes to fetch a doctor. Hallingsworth remains conscious, but bleary while Jamie and Emerson continue to check for injuries.

  "He's going to have a lot of bruising," Emerson notes, feeling up Hallingsworth's side. "But I don't think he's broken any ribs."

  "Good." Jamie presses a cloth against the back of Hallingsworth's head while he mutters something unintelligible about iguanas.

  At that moment Del Martin bursts in followed by the doctor, a portly man with spectacles carrying a doctor's case. They all anxiously wait as the doctor looks Hallingsworth over, eventually bandaging his head before giving him a stiff shot of brandy.

  "He should be fine," the doctor tells them as he repacks his bag. "He has a nasty cut on the back of his head, but it doesn't require stitches, and he'll have bruises on his shoulders and back, but no serious damage." He gives Hallingsworth a long look over the top of his glasses. "You were lucky this time."

  "This time?" Jamie asks.

  Emerson snorts. "Last time he fell off something he broke his arm."

  "He's done this before?" Shock wars with anger and relief, and Jamie feels as if he might be sick.

  Del Martin sighs. "Unfortunately, yes."

  Jamie stares at her for a moment, suddenly feeling that he too might need a good shot of brandy.

  With another sigh, Del Martin sees the doctor to the door. Emerson gently puts a hand on Hallingsworth's shoulder. "I have to leave, professor. I told my wife I'd be home for supper, but I'll come to visit soon." With a brief farewell for Jamie, Emerson takes his leave.

  Jamie sighs, guiding his chair closer to the settee and pouring himself and Del Martin a glass of brandy to help quiet their nerves.

  Del Martin comes back and takes the glass Jamie offers her. "How are you feeling?" She bends over Hallingsworth.

  Hallingsworth snorts. "Sore, stupid, a little dizzy." He holds out his glass and Jamie wordlessly adds another finger's worth of brandy.

  Del Martin glances at Jamie. "Will you stay with him tonight to make sure he's really alright?"

  Jamie nods. "Of course."

  "Alright." She finishes off her drink before going to arrange supper for them.

  Supper is quiet. Hallingsworth eats a small amount, still lying on the settee, while Del Martin and Jamie eat at the table, each taking turns to check on Hallingsworth regularly. When they are done eating and Hallingsworth is tucked up on the settee, Del Martin checks her pocket watch.

  "I'm afraid I have to leave you now, gentlemen."

  "Sleep well." Hallingsworth salutes her with his glass, struggling to rise until Del Martin pushes him gently back down.

  "I'll look in on you tomorrow," she tells Jamie as she collects her hat and coat. He nods before seeing her to the door.

  When he returns to the sitting room, he finds Hallingsworth has helped himself to more brandy. Jamie moves the decanter out of his reach.

  "You should be careful how much you drink with that injury," he reminds Hallingsworth, causing him to pout. Jamie looks away to hide his smile and reaches for his own glass. He hates himself a little bit for taking advantage, but to have Hallingsworth all to himself with no other pressing business to attend to is a Godsend for the case. "I've read the pamphlet by Marx that you lent me," Jamie ventures, taking a sip of brandy.

  Hallingsworth perks up immediately at that. "Oh? And what did you think?"

  "It was interesting," Jamie tells him cautiously. "He seems like a very … radical individual."

  Hallingsworth gives a deep, rich laugh that seems to curl around Jamie and makes his belly feel warm. "Oh yes, indeed he is! Which is part of his genius." Hallingsworth lies back against the arm of the settee and turns to face him. "To have the courage to say everything we've built our society on is wrong. But not just that, no, to do more and actually offer an answer, a solution to our plight. That is true genius in my mind."

  Hallingsworth becomes a little more serious, absently toying with the glass between his fingers. "Most men today look at the state of our society and see the filth, the unhappiness, the poverty and violence, then assume this is the way it is supposed to be. Or worse, that it is the common man's fault, that somehow because he is so poor he causes our entire society to become equally as measurable.

  "Marx, though—" Hallingsworth holds up a hand to point vaguely at the ceiling to emphasis each word. "Marx sees the world as it truly is and has the wisdom not to blame the common people, but those at the top, who make the working man so filthy. In the world Marx envisions, there is no poverty, no children begging and dying on the streets, no men laboring until their bodies break, never managing to make enough to keep their children fed." He looks over at Jamie then, eyes dark and almost pleading. "Can't you see how that is worth believing in, Hartgrove?" Hallingsworth closes his eyes, suddenly seeming very tired.

  Impulsively, Jamie reaches forward to touch Hallingsworth's hand. "Yes, but how do we attain that world?" he asks softly.

  Hallingsworth looks up at him as if startled by the question. "Through science and technology, of course." Hallingsworth says this as if it's the most obviousl thing in the world. "Like the technology we invent here at the college. If they would only let us share it fully with the whole world, we would be close to that utopia right now."

  Jamie searches the other man's face for even the smallest sign of deceit, but sees none. Hallingsworth's cheeks are flushed with the brandy, his eyes are wide and startlingly blue. A smile slowly spreads across his lips as they continue to stare at each other, and Jamie notices that those lips are as full as any woman's, perhaps even more so.

  Swallowing hard, Jamie sits back in his chair and takes another sip of brandy.

  Hallingsworth's eyes flutter shut, long, thick lashes brushing against his cheeks, and he raises one hand to pull free his cravat and unbutton the first few buttons on his shirt. Jamie catches himself staring at the soft, pale skin of Hallingsworth's throat and strong chest and at the hint of dark hair under crisp white linen. He feels his cheeks flush and forces himself to look away.

  "Yes well …" He clears his throat and Hallingsworth makes a small sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

  When Jamie looks back over at him, Hallingsworth reaches out and gently brushes the back of Jamie's hand with the tips of his fingers. Jamie thinks perhaps they've both had a little too much brandy. He lets his eyes skim over Hallingsworth again, his close cropped sideburns and his broad chest, the dark hair on his arms and the strength of his shoulders and legs.

  He closes his eyes; definitely too much brandy.

  "Do you have a fiancée or someone you are courting perhaps?" Hallingsworth asks, finishing off the last of his own drink.

  "No." Jamie looks down at his own glass, toying with it between his fingers, and then looks back up at Hallingsworth. "And you?"

  Hallingsworth smiles again, that slowly striking the smile that makes a dimple appear in his left cheek and wreaks havoc with Jamie's emotions. "No, I am at this time unattached. Much to the dismay of my mother and sisters."

  "My father feels the same about my state of attachment," Jamie tells him, feeling a little sting in his chest at the small lie.

  "Ah, well." Hallingsworth folds his hands across his chest. "Though I would like to find a companion to spend my remaining years with, it has simply not come to pass yet."

  "As would I." Jamie sighs. "If I could find someone who would have me."

  "I shouldn't think that would be too difficult," Hallingsworth tells him.

  Jamie actually laughs. "Really? And how many do you imagine would want a man who cannot sta
nd, let alone walk?" He taps the armrest of his chair to bring the point home.

  "Oh, please, you have many other fine attributes," Hallingsworth tells him. "Your wit, intelligence, and good looks, to name only a few."

  Jamie blushes again and looks at his hands, searching for something to say to that and coming up with nothing. When he looks back up, however, Hallingsworth is snoring softly. Jamie feels both disappointed and relieved. His chair is awkward to sleep in, but he manages to fall sleep eventually.

  Del Martin comes in time for breakfast, just as she'd promised, the next morning. After eating, Jamie goes back to his own rooms to dress in fresh clothes and wash up a little. There he finds a letter from Percy waiting for him.

  In regards to Mr. B.

  I did some research into his past, which I thought might be of interest to you. Mr. B. was an upstanding citizen with no enemies of which I can detect, however, there are several points that may be of some use. Most noticeably that fact that B.'s original name was Turnlow at birth, but he seems to have had a falling out with his family as a young man and took his mother's maiden-name as his own. You might recognize the name, the Turnlow family makes a large fortune in the textile business and owns a large number of cotton textile factories in the city of Manchester.

  Aside from that, there is not much to note. I hope this is of some small use to you nonetheless.

  Sincerely,

  P. Solomons

  Jamie refolds the letter and sits looking at it for a few long moments. He's become increasingly convinced that Hallingsworth is not capable of murder, and there is a good likelihood that his client is well aware of his innocence.

  Jamie had been sure that Professor Brown's murder had been political, probably because of the technological state secrets Professor Brown no doubt had known. This new information, however, is interesting to be sure.

  "I would like to take the day off to go into London," Jamie tells Hallingsworth when he returns to his room. "I received a letter and I think I need to see my father as soon as possible."

  Hallingsworth looks up from the plans and sketches he's spread across the table in front of the settee. "Of course." His brows furrow a little under the bandage around his forehead. "I hope nothing is amiss."