I lounged back in my chair and made the slightest movement that could be reasonably recognised as a nod.
‘Now leave,’ Trevelyan concluded, but his lips never popped back out.
I left his office still staggered by how well things had worked out. Eddie had kept his word, telling everyone he’d been abducted from St Andrew Square by a gigantic ruffian (which was not really a lie), that he’d hit his head while escaping, and that the nearest residence he was familiar with was McGray’s, since he’d read it in the papers.
Mrs Cobbold, who had indeed called the police as soon as she noticed the boy was gone, had already been notified, and we were simply waiting for her to come and pick up the child.
I found Eddie waiting patiently on a bench nearby the main entrance. The constables had given him one of their jackets, which on him looked more like a poncho, and Reed had applied a bulky bandaging that resembled a mismatching turban.
‘Feeling better?’ I asked him, sitting by his side, and Eddie nodded. ‘Your grandmother should be here in no time.’
He nodded again and murmured a shy thank you. He’d been awfully quiet since we managed to calm him down, which happened almost as soon as George extinguished the last candle. The boy’s body had gone lax in our arms and for a dreadful moment I’d feared he might be dead.
‘Mr McGray says the spirits did come,’ he mumbled.
I sighed, now feeling terribly guilty I had allowed all that to happen. I was sure we’d simply sit there in the semi-darkness, feeling silly, until either Larry or Eddie became utterly bored. If I’d known …
‘What did you see?’ I asked him.
Eddie looked at me, his wide eyes full of hope. ‘Mum came to me. I heard her. I saw her eyes.’
I sighed. I wanted to tell him it had all been in his head, but he looked so hopeful and reassured, I did not have the heart.
‘She said I shouldn’t be afraid,’ he muttered.
‘Did you say something back?’
‘No. I tried, but I couldn’t. And she knew. She said it was fine.’
‘Do you … do you remember saying anything to us? Speaking out loud?’
The boy frowned, looking side to side, and then shook his head. ‘I only heard Mum.’
I felt so sorry for him. Those visions might be with him for the rest of his life. At least he might find some comfort in them.
I tousled his hair and we waited in silence.
Mrs Cobbold finally arrived, swathed in showy mourning clothes that made her look like a neckless ostrich. She ran to her grandson, lifted him in the air and hugged him so tightly I feared he’d asphyxiate. All the while she glared at me. By now she must have been told our made-up story and, like Trevelyan, she would not swallow a word of it.
She put the boy down and pushed him in my direction.
‘Say goodbye to the inspector, Edward,’ the woman commanded, emphasising the word.
Eddie offered me a coy hand.
‘Be good,’ I told him, but I hardly shook his hand by a second, for his grandmother pulled him away and they swiftly disappeared through the City Chambers’ gate.
I sighed then, thinking I had another child to worry about.
McGray sat pensively by his desk, his muddy boots on top of a tower of old witchcraft tomes.
‘How did it go?’
‘I averted most of the damage,’ I said. ‘Trevelyan will never forgive this, though. And the chubby old hag is clearly suspicious.’
Nine-Nails shrugged, which exasperated me.
‘Is everything a triviality to you? You kidnapped a little boy! You risked so much to achieve – well, nothing at all.’
There was a moment of complete silence. I even doubted McGray had heard me, until he kicked the tower of books with all his might, sending crumbling pages and ancient leather flying all across the basement.
‘Did ye nae hear the laddie? He says he saw his mother.’
I had no energy left to contradict him, but neither was I willing to accept his idiocy. I went to my desk and sat on the very uncomfortable chair.
‘I believe the boy is convinced he saw and heard something, which was only to be expected in a troubled child. Even I thought I saw and heard things.’
Nine-Nails shook his head. ‘Yer impossible, Percy.’
I preferred not to remark on the irony.
‘Even if we assume that all that you claim was real,’ I said instead, ‘the late Mrs Grenville coming back from the realm of the dead to bid farewell to her son … she did not tell us anything that might help Katerina.’
McGray stared at the notes he’d pinned to the wall. ‘The wall is paper-thin. Cross it.’ He exhaled. ‘It was like she was inviting us … inviting the laddie to join her. What if the same thing happened that night? What if—?’
He halted there, pulling his hair as desperation took hold of him. He knew I was right, and there was little I could say. We only had six days before the execution, and our options were slipping away with every tick of the clocks.
‘I think it is time to submit the appeal,’ I said. ‘Father drafted it before he left.’
McGray lounged back, but did not look at me. He stared ahead as he stroked the stub of his missing finger.
‘He said the appeal is most likely to fail without new evidence, right?’
I sighed. ‘We must at least try. They might agree to delay the execution, which would give us more time to investigate.’
‘Investigate what?’
At last I had a chance to tell him, as concisely as possible, about Holt’s confession the day before – the deaths related to the gold mining business ; how Leonora’s gold nugget was not a talisman but a memento of her dead father ; how Walter Fox might be the ultimate beneficiary now that everyone on his side of the family was dead.
McGray’s eyes opened wider and wider as I went on, and when I was finished he stood up and threw a bundle of documents at me.
‘And ye said nothing last night? Are ye mad?’
‘I bloody tried! But you were far too busy scarring a child for life.’
He was already grabbing his overcoat. ‘Och, never mind. Come on, I need ye to help me beat the truth out o’ the orange bastard.’
‘No-no-no!’ I shouted. ‘We cannot confront him until we have at least some evidence to throw at him.’
‘Och, Percy, what the fuck?’
I put my palms up. ‘You are getting desperate, and I do not blame you. But we must be cautious precisely because we have very little time left. If we go to Walter Fox right now, we’d just be giving him a chance to destroy evidence or run away to his dear Africa.’
McGray was writhing his coat just like Joan had done her apron. He tossed it back onto the rack, growling.
‘Shite, I hate it when yer right! So what does her ladyship suggest?’
I sighed. ‘We submit the appeal right now, if only to try to buy us some time. Then we look for evidence. This gold mine affair will have left a trail easy enough to follow – conveyancing, import statements, deeds.’
McGray growled louder.
‘We do not need the full story,’ I added. ‘Just enough evidence to open a case against him.’
‘Assuming yer right, we’ll still need to find out how he might’ve done it.’
I allowed myself a side smile. ‘Not necessarily. If we play our cards wisely, he might even tell us himself.’
41
We submitted the appeal right away and then paid Katerina a brief visit.
By then she’d made the cell a second home. Next to her bed she had now a little table, covered with half-written letters I recognised as farewell notes. There was also a vase with fresh flowers, filling the room with a soft perfume, combined with the scent of soap and clean cotton sheets.
McGray whistled.
‘Aye,’ said Katerina, wrapping herself more tightly in her bright green shawl. Only then did I notice she was once more wearing her offensively low cleavages, her bulging bosom free to rock at will. �
�They treat you like an empress here. All you have to do is die for it.’
McGray bit his lip. Katerina’s nonchalance before death made us uneasy.
She raised her chin. ‘So – I can tell you learned nothing at the séance, am I right?’
We both stood there rather nervously, like children before the schoolmistress.
‘I knew it would be a waste of time,’ she said, and then gave me a look of complicity. ‘I tried to convince this lad, but you know what he is like.’
McGray looked so upset I preferred to save my comments. Instead I said, ‘The boy claims he saw his mother.’
Katerina nodded. ‘Aye, that’s what I expected. The mother wouldn’t have let any other spirit through. Not so soon, at least.’ She shook her head, her mouth twisted in a bitter smirk. ‘I supposed it is sealed now. Then again, I already—’
‘We still have an ace up our sleeves,’ McGray interjected. ‘There’s still hope. We just learned—’
Katerina raised a hand. ‘Don’t. Don’t tell me more. Go and do your thing if that makes you feel better, but I have more important things to worry about.’
‘But—’
‘I want to see my son!’ she snapped, for the first time since the trial showing real concern in her eyes. Then she turned, entreating. ‘Could you arrange that? I haven’t seen him in eight years. He won’t even recognise me …’ A shadow set on her face, far darker than the certainty of death. ‘He will be ashamed of me …’
We wanted to offer her some comfort but did not know how. The boy had grown in a boarding school, ignorant of his origins. He would certainly be astonished to find his mother in jail, pronounced guilty of six murders. And he would not be the first young man to look down at his humble past.
Katerina shut her eyes and sighed. ‘Also, please, can you find me a priest?’
McGray’s jaw was tense. I could tell he was doing his best to compose himself, so I spoke for him. ‘Have they not offered you one already?’
‘Aye, son, but I want an Orthodox one. Eastern Orthodox. My parents’ faith.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘We will send out requests. My father might be able to locate one in London.’
Katerina whispered a clumsy thank you. She stretched her free hand to hold mine, but as soon as she touched me, the woman twitched. Her eyes even cleared, momentarily oblivious of her situation.
‘Oh, son,’ she cried, ‘your uncle had a message for you!’
It was my turn to take a step back. That was the last thing I would have expected to hear.
‘But you refused to hear him,’ she added, a shade of sorrow in her tone. ‘You told him to go away …’
My mind went blank. How could she possibly know? It was not the first time she surprised me in that manner, but it had never struck so deep into my chest.
She, on the other hand, smiled. ‘My eye is coming back. I can feel his soul’s at peace. He probably wanted to tell you so. You’ve been seeing him a lot, haven’t you?’
It was my turn to gulp, and for one selfish moment all my sympathy for her vanished. There she was, uttering a seemingly harmless sentence, yet managing to hit my most vulnerable nerves.
‘You have to let him rest,’ she said, but I just sneered. ‘I know, I know. It all sounds hollow when you hear it from someone else. But I’ve had my losses too. Parents, brothers, sisters …’ she hesitated, her voice for once quivering. ‘Babies …’
She looked sideways, and her green eyes danced as if following imaginary shadows.
‘It’s harder on the living than it is on the dead,’ she said. She took a deep breath, and then gave me a firm look. ‘But listen to me carefully – I usually charge a fortune for this sort of advice – let him go.
‘Remember him, yes. Remember all the dead. Celebrate that you met them and that you shared some of your life with them. But also let them go. Life is change. Move on. Let them move on. You won’t find peace until you do. And they won’t either.’
She looked alternately at us when she said that, but neither of us managed an answer. We simply lingered there, looking at our own feet like scolded children.
Nine-Nails sniffed, his back bent miserably. Then, all of a sudden, he cleared his throat stridently and jumped to his feet, almost banging his head on the ceiling.
‘That’s bollocks.’
‘W-what?’ Katerina turned to him so fast I feared her breasts would overbrim.
‘I don’t care what ye say, hen. I’m getting ye out o’ here.’
‘I—’
‘And ye’ll give me free divinations ’n’ free ale – good ale – for as long as ye live. And that will be so fucking long even yer child will regret the deal. Ye understand?’
Katerina shook her head. ‘Adolphus, boy, can’t you—?’
‘Save it, we’re in a hurry. And we need ye to give us some names for the investigation. That is, if ye have any soddin’ interest in staying alive.’
42
Katerina’s murky network of contacts finally paid off. She knew people in the customs office who owed her favours and who gave us full access to any import and export records we wished to see. We decided McGray was the natural choice to deal with them. In the meantime I would consult land registries, the newspaper archives, and recruit Joan to hunt for more family gossip.
Before any of that, however, I volunteered to take care of Katerina’s requests. I telegrammed my father and a few other acquaintances in London, asking if anyone could contact an Eastern Orthodox priest. I also sent a message to Johnnie, telling him Katerina’s son must be sent for as soon as possible. As soon as I got his reply assuring he’d look at that, I began the hard work.
Three days later – a blur of rushed meals, sleepless nights and endless rounds of coffee and claret – I met McGray at his cluttered library to discuss our findings.
We were both exhausted, our bodies strewn on the sofas like rags, with just enough energy to swirl our whisky tumblers.
‘I found gold,’ said Nine-Nails. ‘Mind the pun.’ And he tossed a bundle of documents onto the coffee table.
‘Imports records?’ I said, leafing through them.
‘Aye. Turns out that Colonel Grenville and his father-in-law, that auld Hector Shaw, imported eye-watering piles of gold.’
I read for a moment. ‘Wait. I do not see their names here. Only—’
‘Peter Willberg.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Did they do everything under his name?’
‘Indeedy. If the mine was a dodgy business, it was only natural they’d look for a scapegoat. Willberg took care of all the imports and the sales. I bet ye didnae find any deeds or transactions linking the colonel and the auld Shaw with African mines.’
‘Indeed I did not.’
McGray stretched an arm, patting Tucker’s head, and pulled a hefty stack of documents from underneath the dog’s muzzle. ‘Look at these.’
They were covered in dribble, so I only handled them after wrapping my hand with a handkerchief.
‘Bank statements!’ I cried. ‘How did you get—? In fact, do not tell me.’
‘Peter Willberg paid a lot o’ cash into five accounts. Three belonged to the fathers of Bertrand, Leonora and Walter Fox. However—’
‘Dear Lord,’ I said. ‘What he gave them is nothing compared to what the colonel and the old Mr Shaw hoarded.’
I pondered for a moment, enjoying the excellent bouquet of McGray’s single malt.
‘Leonora’s father,’ I recounted, ‘and Walter’s and Bertrand’s … They were all dispatched to Africa to extract the gold.’ I took note of that, encircling their names. ‘The three diggers …’
‘And yet they got tuppence compared to the other two. Even Willberg, who sat very comfy in a warm office, got more than the poor devils digging the ground on the other end o’ the world.’
I nodded. ‘That would have caused … bitterness, to say the least.’ We both had the same name in mind. ‘Walter was in his teens back then,’ I said. ‘
He would not have liked this at all.’
‘And the colonel went to meet that sod right before the séance,’ McGray added. ‘We still have nae idea what for.’
‘If Walter instigated the séance and then somehow tampered with the knife …’
‘Which Katerina gave to Leonora.’
‘And Walter visited her frequently …’
The names and the facts remained floating in the air for a while, until McGray snapped his fingers. ‘What if we send him one o’ Katerina’s men to squeeze some information out o’ him?’
I lifted my head lazily, giving Nine-Nails a quizzical brow.
‘Och, don’t look at me like that, Percy. Nothing drastic – just a wee scare to make him talk. A burst lip … a broken knee … that sort o—’
‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘Do nothing of the kind. Walter is a blasted rogue. He’d use any kind of coercion against us. And he has Pratt in his pocket. It would not surprise me if he gave him that blasted golden tooth.’
‘Och, we have to rush things somehow. We’re running out o’ time!’
I sighed. ‘We will have a verdict on the appeal tomorrow.’
‘Aye, and they hang Katerina two days after that.’
Aware as I was of the fact, I still felt a pang of fear when he said it. How could time have passed so quickly? It was as if some terrifying magic had compressed the past six weeks into a blink.
I realised it was well past midnight, so I downed my drink and stood up, my legs numb and my back sore.
‘Time to rest,’ I groaned. ‘Tomorrow will be anything but quiet. Shall we meet directly at the court?’
‘Neh. If they reject the appeal I’ll probably strangle someone with my belt.’
‘True.’
‘And I can spend the time looking for more evidence. I’ll never forgive myself if we find the last piece o’ the soddin’ puzzle after Katerina—’ He stopped then, snorted and leaned over a mountain of old ledgers. ‘They should give the sentenced more time. Three Sundays to save someone’s life … It’s ridiculous.’
‘It is the law,’ I reminded him. ‘Flawed as it may be …’
The Darker Arts Page 28
