by C. A. Asbrey
“But what if I touched it? Could I get hurt?”
“I don’t think you’re ready for experimentation yet, but you could get something that felt like a bee sting. Nothing more than that. The capacitor has an electric charge but only a very small one. We’re trying to generate electrical clicks that can be received at a distance, not power. We hope to be able to send Morse code, but many of us hope to be able to transmit actual voices, eventually. It doesn’t take power to transmit a few clicks.”
Nat nodded, drinking in the equipment, the data, and the nature of his work. His eyes traced the multiple bottles of chemicals on the sideboard. They were still a long way from resolving this nagging question. How did this man kill?
Chapter 5
Abigail returned to the lodgings she shared with Nat, where they masqueraded as Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. It meant that Mr. Roberts had an address and an identity to be checked by Bartholemew if he became suspicious of his new friend. The place was perfect. Just across the road, and at a perfect vantage point from which to observe the comings and goings at Bartholemew’s home. The newlyweds’ month-long honeymoon had given them time to secure a suitable roost and search Bartholemew’s home thoroughly. Abigail always ensured she used her reversible coat and added feathers to her hat to alter her appearance before returning home.
Nat’s face dimpled in welcome. “Hi.”
She flopped down, fatigued by her day’s work, as he smiled at her from the sofa where he had his nose in yet another textbook.
“Tired?”
“You bet. Thank heavens Bartholemew won’t allow a live-in maid, although that’s suspicious in itself. A respectable household that size wouldn’t be seen dead without one.”
“Coffee?”
Suspicion clouded her face. “Did you make it?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but you deserve one. He closed his book and laid it beside him.
Abigail glanced at him. “No, I’ll make it. Your coffee is horrible. I have no idea how you make two simple ingredients taste so different to everyone else’s.”
“Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He looked her up and down. “No curtsy? I liked that. We could keep that going.”
Her jet eyes flicked over to him. “What if I bring in aspects of other characters I’ve assumed, like the middle-aged schoolteacher with the limp?”
He chuckled. “Schoolteacher?” his eyebrows flicked up in interest. “That could work. Is she strict?”
She frowned in disapproval. “Mr. Quinn, do you ever give up?”
“Sometimes. That’s why I have an explosives man to blow open safes I can’t get into. It’s only sensible to have a backup plan.”
She spooned the coffee into the pot. “And you have a backup plan for me?”
“Are you sure I’ll need one?”
She flushed and glanced away. “Did you find out anything useful today?”
“Nope. I wondered if he used electricity to kill his wives, but according to the books, there are burns inside the body. The doctors would have seen those. What about you? Did you get anything?”
“Nothing. I read up on electricity a few weeks ago. Apparently, it’s not uncommon for bell ringers to be struck by lightning if the ropes are wet. Scientists have examined lightning victims for years and they always see the same thing.” She shook her head. “No. I didn’t find anything other than he’s not missing his new wife. He told me she was visiting family. He hasn’t even reported Madeleine as missing, which is very odd. Other than that, nothing.”
“Are you sure he’s a killer? He’s a horse’s ass, but that doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“I’m sure of it. Young, fit women’s hearts don’t just suddenly stop for no reason. There’s got to be an explanation, Mr. Quinn. Why would he keep re-inventing himself like that?”
“Hmmm, especially when he’s seeking recognition as an inventor. Do you know his real name yet?”
Abigail shook her head. “I think I can hear Irish tones in his accent, but I can’t be sure. He could just be from Boston and mixed with a lot of Irish people growing up.” She sighed. “Well, at least Madeleine’s safely out of it. Thanks to you two. I’m not sure about Jake, though.”
“He’ll be fine,” laughed Nat.
Two worried brown eyes widened. “Will he? You’re underestimating my sister. She’ll work out he’s trailing her around and not bringing her home.”
“As long as he keeps her away from here she’ll be safe.” Nat picked up his book and flicked through the pages. “I think Bartholemew gasses them. He has all kinds of chemicals in that laboratory. Maybe we need to note them and research the effects of every combination?”
“Good idea.” She nodded. “Dr. MacIvor says the signs are pretty obvious in gassing. It’s not something doctors see very often, but they certainly wouldn’t report that the body was unmarked.”
Nat shook his head ruefully. “He’s real clever, and I haven’t got a clue how he’s killing folks. It’s gotta be something to do with these radio waves. Something invisible. I wonder if you can make them powerful enough to shoot at people and stop their hearts?” He dropped the book once more. “Are you sure it isn’t poison?”
“If it is, it’s one we can’t trace.”
He frowned and picked up another volume. “Are you certain there wasn’t a mark on them? A syringe in a freckle, perhaps?”
“That’s not something an ordinary doctor would look for, but the pathologist would.” Abigail sat. “Mrs. Mitchell’s body was thoroughly examined. The autopsy report showed nothing but petechiae. They don’t help us.”
“Suffocation? What if he lay on top and held them down so they couldn’t struggle so there’d be no bruises? They were in bed, you say? How about we try it to see how easy that’d be?”
“With you?” Abigail’s brows arched. “Certainly not. We both know where that would lead.”
“We do?” Nat’s grin widened. “I wasn’t sure, but since you’re so certain, I think we should check. Just to see which one of us is right.”
She ignored him. “There were no bruises. Not one. You would expect some kind of struggle unless they were drugged, but there was nothing.”
“Yeah.” Nat shook his head as his eyes darkened. “How does he kill? We gotta find out, Abi.”
♦◊♦
Jake and Madeleine spent a restless night camped out under a canopy of a million stars peppered by occasional fluffy clouds, the area scented with wild sage.
He had been unable to get her lascivious diary out of his head, and whenever he glanced over, he’d seen her enormous green eyes glittering through the darkness at him. He had read her fantasies, her deepest needs, and the thought that he could play on those whenever he wanted wandered wickedly around his mind, disturbing his sleep and fueling his appetites. She liked to be in charge, that was clear from her diary, but how would she react to a man who refused to be dominated?
The question kept rearing up in his head, tormenting him by stimulating his imagination and flashing up hungry cravings.
“Keep your mind on the job in hand, Jake.” He heard his Irish mother’s words ringing in his head just as he had so many times in the past. He turned over with a silent groan and dragged his mind back to the mundane and prosaic. He drifted off to a fitful sleep, dreaming of the temptations of a beautiful woman with swirling emerald eyes.
♦◊♦
Jake was up early, ready to make a move, but it was hours before she dragged reluctant eyes open to face the new day. Under any other circumstances he’d have wakened her, but they were in no rush. The longer this took, the better. He crouched by the fire and replaced the coffee pot on the embers, lifting his tin cup to his lips to sip in the reviving brew.
“Mornin’.”
Huge green eyes blinked through a nest of wild hair as a chuckle rolled around his throat at her wide-eyed dishevelment.
“You look like a startled owl.”
Madeleine scowled and pulled at her pale green flor
al dress, trying to get some sort of order out of the rumples. “I look a fright.”
“Just a bit wild, darlin’. There’s a river over there if you want to wash. I got some bacon. You hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
“Good, let’s get you fed and get on your way home, huh?”
“How long will it take for me to get back to San Francisco?”
Jake’s head tilted from side to side, appearing to weigh up the options. “A while. We can’t go back the way they took you. They got family there, and if they see you, they’ll know we killed them.”
“What do you mean we? I never killed anyone. And how do you know they have family?”
“Fine. Me then. We gotta go the long way round. That outfit is notorious around here. We need to avoid them.”
A petted lip swelled. “How long will that take?”
“Ohhh. A week or so.”
“A week. I can’t wait that long.”
“You ain’t got a choice, darlin’. You don’t know the way.”
“I can go the way I came. That way, I’ll be home in four days.”
He raised his brows but kept his voice gentle. “No, miss. I can’t allow that.”
Her arch smile was skillful. “Don’t you mean that you’d like to get me home as soon as possible? I’d be ever so grateful.” Coy lashes dipped before she met his gaze once more. “Ever so.”
Jake fixed her with a stubborn stare. “If I meant that, I’d have said it. I’m kinda straight that way.”
“Mr.—Jake, or whatever your name is. Surely, you want to help me? To make me happy?”
Jake stared at her. “The name’s just Jake, ma’am, and I don’t like people tellin’ me what I think. Especially when they’re wrong.”
“Surely a circuitous circumvention is exactly what they’d expect you to do? I’m sure you don’t mean to fall into a trap, but you would be doing just that.”
“If that’s supposed to mean that I should ride straight back the way I came, the answer’s still no.”
Her plush lips started to quiver. “But wouldn’t you prefer me to be safe and very grateful? I can be ever so demonstrative when I’m happy.” The huge green eyes widened in entreaty. A flutter of weakness rolled in his belly, followed by Abigail’s warning running through his mind. It chimed with the behavior he had read in her diary, but it was harder to hate it when was packaged so beautifully. He stiffened his resolve, trying to ignore anything else stiffening along with it.
“Why can’t you just say somethin’ straight out. If you mean I should let you wheedle your way round plain common sense the answer’s no, Miss MacKay.” He drank deep, eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup. “And you’d best get your head around the fact that I ain’t no greenhorn ready to fall at your feet. I’m in charge. Get used to it.”
She thrust out her chin in challenge. “I’m not your prisoner. You said so. And that’s not my name. It’s Mrs. Bartholemew. How did you even know my maiden name?”
“You’re my responsibility.” Jake paused, groping around for an excuse for his slip up. “You must have told me. How else would I know?”
Her brow creased. “I’m sure I didn’t.”
“You did. Now, go get washed up and I’ll cook some bacon.”
Madeleine stood. “I don’t want to go the long way around. I’m not asking you. I don’t need your permission. I can go by myself.”
“And I told you, you ain’t got a choice. I rescued you. I ain’t too much to ask for me to stay safe while I take you home.”
She raised her eyebrows at him in challenge, her mouth forming a petulant moue before she stormed off to perform her morning ablutions. “Well. Thanks very much!”
Jake sighed and turned back to the campfire. “Woman-talk,” he muttered. “It sure as hell don’t show much gratitude when she throws words like flyin’ crockery.”
♦◊♦
Madeleine tossed her head in disdain. “It didn’t take you long to show your true colors. You’re a rogue and scoundrel. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”
She folded her arms in defiant resistance as Jake ponied her horse ahead through the hills. “I’m sorry Miss MacKay, but I ain’t puttin’ up with any nonsense. Get that through your skull. If you get off that horse again I’ll tie you on the damned thing.”
“You’re a bully, and my name is not MacKay. It’s Mrs. Bartholemew. I’m a married woman.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Bartholemew. It’s a shame the world ain’t just fallin’ at your feet over what you want—but that’s your whole problem, ain’t it?”
“What whole problem? What would you know about anything?”
“You don’t strike me as a just-married woman. You seem pretty much still on the hunt to me. A man can tell.” Jake tied her reins to his saddle horn to continue leading her horse along. “You ain’t always gonna get what you want, especially with me. I’ll help you, but I ain’t goin’ anywhere that might be dangerous for me, even if that means your precious backside has to bump around on the back of a horse for a day or two longer.”
“A week or so, you said. That’s seven days. Probably more. That’s double the length of time it took to get here.”
“I don’t see why I should be put in danger for a good deed. We ain’t goin’ through dangerous territory.”
She paused, churning with anger. “You think you’re so masterful, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I practice in the mirror. It’s good to know it’s payin’ off.”
They rode ahead into the day in simmering silence. The extended pause stretched on with Jake determined not to break it. It might signal that he was prepared to negotiate. When she spoke again it was in more conciliatory tones. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not being fair to you.”
“You’ve changed your tune.” Jake stared straight ahead. “And nope. I wouldn’t have allowed it. The sooner you understand you ain’t gettin’ your way, the better.”
“If I promise to behave, will you let me take my own reins?”
Cynical blue eyes examined her as though she were an unruly child. “Your word ain’t worth squat.”
“That’s rich. You’re the one who knows who the criminal families are around here. I’m honest, and I mix only with respectable people.”
“I get the feelin’ you’re quite a handful even in the best company.” He smiled. “And I’ve met respectable folks who’ve been as crooked as a dog’s hind leg—they just tell better lies.” He shrugged. “You ain’t so great at it.”
“Look. I’ll behave. I didn’t realize just how you would react, I know better, now. Most men would have given in by now.” Her pout returned. “It was worth a try.”
Jake turned to glower at her in silence as she started to plead. “I promise. If I have to spend at least a week with you, we have to come to some sort of agreement.”
“As long as you realize that I’m the one makin’ the decisions we’ll get along just fine.”
Her green eyes glittered softly at him, but there was something about the smile playing around her generous lips which didn’t sit right.
“I like a strong man, Jake. It’s such a shame I’m a respectable married woman.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Ain’t it just.”
“I can be a bit of an animal when I’m aroused.”
“Yeah,” muttered Jake under his breath as he kicked his mount into motion. “My money’s on horse’s ass.”
♦◊♦
“Who’s that?” Nat turned from Bartholemew’s open safe at the jangling doorbell.
Abigail’s brows rose at the papers in disarray all over the room. “I’ll go see. You tidy up here.”
“Get rid of them. I don’t care who they are.” Nat stuffed a ledger back into the safe.
“Don’t worry. I intend to.” She closed the door behind her and made her way down the hall. She’d only opened the door a crack when it was kicked ajar and two men rushed in.
“You can’t just barge in here.”
Abigail gasped. “Get out or I’ll call for help.”
“Where’s your boss?” growled the bearded man.
“He’s out.” Abigail absolutely knew this to be true, otherwise she and Nat would not have been going through the latest papers to arrive in his study when these men rang the doorbell.
The stranger rubbed his hands together in delight. “So I guess he ain’t here to stop us taking back our equipment?”
“What equipment? Who are you?”
“Name’s O’Grady, and I’m here to take back my copper sheeting. He ain’t paid for it, and we’ve waited long enough. I’m takin’ it. Every last scrap I can find. Tell your boss he can get it back when he’s paid for it.”
They barged into the study as Abigail’s heart leaped into her mouth. Nat was in there, going through Bartholemew’s safe.
“Nothin’ in here, Mr. O’Grady,” called the tall skinny one. “Where does he keep it?”
Abigail darted an anxious look around the study. The safe was closed, the papers were in order and there was no sign of Nat anywhere. She flicked up an eyebrow in appreciation at how skilled he was in the nefarious arts before she turned and gestured toward a door with her head.
“Keep what? Copper is it you’re wanting? That’d be in the dining room. They don’t eat in there. He uses it as a laboratory.” She deliberately used an Irish syntax to match her accent.
The great bear of a man stormed over to the double doors and threw them open. “Yeah, Frank. Over here, and fetch some packing cases.”
The bearded man strode over to the room and looked in, a look of satisfaction spreading over his face. “Yup. Get it Bob, every bit of it you can find.”
“Is he in debt, then?” asked Abigail.
“Debt? He owes me almost three hundred dollars, and I know for a fact that he ain’t paid his grocer for months ’cause he’s my brother-in law. He told me he’d be able to pay his bills when he came back from New York ’cause he had some work out there. I should’ve known he was only blowin’ smoke.”
