“He said it was urgent.”
“Bring him in.”
Jasper picked up his towel and wiped off his face and torso before pulling on his shirt. He liked his new exercise room, which was light and airy and had once been his breakfast room.
Thinking of breakfast rooms reminded him of last night; he’d stayed at Hetty’s until almost four o’clock that morning.
You’re a fool, Jasper; she’s not a casual sort of woman.
Perhaps I don’t want a casual sort of woman.
Jasper enjoyed a moment of triumph at having shocked his inner critic into silence.
The door opened and Law entered, his eyes flickering around the room before settling on Jasper. “I didn’t know you boxed.”
“Only with a b-bag. Would you care for coffee or tea, D-Detective?”
“No thank you, sir.”
Jasper nodded his dismissal at Paisley.
“Sorry to disturb you on your day off,” Law said when the door closed. “But I needed to ask you somethin’.”
“What’s on your m-mind, Detective?”
“Remember how I told you about Amy—Caitlyn’s younger sister?”
“The girl you took to Philadelphia. You said it was arranged b-by some society?”
“They call it the Orphan Train. The thing is, they didn’t arrange it.”
“What do you m-mean?”
“Lorie asked me to get Amy’s address, since she had some of Caitlyn’s money to send her. I went to the Orphaned Children Mission on Mulberry—the place Caitlyn said Amy had been living. But they had no idea what I was talkin’ about.”
“Y-You mean she’d never been there?”
“She’d been there, but they never set Amy up with a family because they couldn’t place a pregnant girl. The man I talked to there said they sent anyone they couldn’t help to one of the other charities they worked with.” Law shook his head in wonder. “You ain’t gonna believe this, sir, but it was one of Mrs. Dunbarton’s charities that took Amy in, some girls’ school.”
Jasper frowned. “Explain.”
“I thought at first that maybe Mrs. Dunbarton did it after she went to see Caitlyn. You know? When Caitlyn asked to see her? I figured maybe Caitlyn mentioned her orphaned sister and Mrs. Dunbarton took pity on the girl—somethin’ like that.”
It sounded exactly like something Hetty would do. But why wouldn’t she have mentioned such a thing?
“But here’s the thing, sir—Mrs. Dunbarton didn’t take Amy after she talked to Caitlyn; she took Amy outa there a month before her husband was murdered.”
* * *
Jasper felt like he was under a compulsion or spell; he didn’t want to be here, yet here he was.
Turn around and do what Anderson said—forget about it, his mental companion pled.
“Sir?”
Jasper forced his attention back to the waiting guard. “I’m ready.”
When the cell door opened, there was Ryan, leaning back in his wooden chair, balancing on two legs and smirking up at Jasper. “Well, well, l-l-look who’s come calling.”
Jasper waited until the door closed behind him for answering. “I appreciate you agreeing to t-talk to me, Mr. Ryan.”
“I ain’t got nothing else to do. But that doesn’t mean talking to me won’t cost you.”
Jasper reached for his wallet.
“No. Don’t give me the money. I want you to send it to somebody.”
“Your w-wife and children?” Jasper recalled reading something about Ryan’s family in the newspaper.
“Naw, she’s been taken care of all right and tight.” He glanced around the four stone walls, as if somebody might hear, and leaned forward. “I want something for my ma, back home. Moira Ryan in Clifden, Galway. I’ll want two hundred dollars—and I don’t want her to know who it came from; she’s got enough on her plate without knowin’ about me swingin’.”
It was an exorbitant sum, and they both knew it. “What d-do I get for that amount of m-money?”
“You get what you’ve come lookin’ for—you want answers, about a couple o’ things, but mainly you’re wondering about the watch. I thought I’d get me neck stretched with nobody the wiser.” He didn’t exhibit any shame about his admission.
“Tell me where you b-bought D-Dunbarton’s watch,” Jasper said.
“That’s what old Hart told ye, aye?”
“Where is Mr. Hart?”
“Hell if I know.”
Jasper heard the truth in his voice. Besides, why not admit to another murder if he’d done it? They could only hang him once.
“You thought it was me who done the old bastard, eh?” Ryan shook his head, his expression marveling. “I have to admit I was surprised as hell to hear he’d confessed to robbin’ a corpse—and a rich one, at that. You must have a bit of magic to ya. But you’re not as clever as you think.” He held up a hand. “But wait, I’m getting’ ahead o’ myself. When we moved Dunbarton—”
“Who is w-we?”
Ryan chewed his cheek. “Why not?” he asked, more of himself. “Me and Featherstone and a patrolman named Kennedy.” He laughed at whatever he saw on Jasper’s face. “Give over on that one, mate—it’s too good a money maker. And it don’t go through Davies, if that’s what you’re thinking, but he and everyone else knows about it—even holier-than-thou Hy Law.”
Jasper had no intention of believing anything this man said about Hieronymus Law. “Why d-did you keep Dunbarton’s body another d-day?”
“Because we fucked up. Featherstone thought to shake more money out of that French whore. Turns out the woman has brass balls. By the time he pulled his head out of his arse, it was broad daylight and we were stuck with a feckin’ corpse. It was lucky it wasn’t hot. We kept ’im in the wagon until the next night and then dumped ’im.”
“Did you move S-Sealy?”
“Aye, that’s why Featherstone wanted more money—two rich men killed in spittin’ distance of her place? The price shoulda gone up; we shoulda gotten triple.” He shrugged. “Anyhow, unlike Sealy, who’d not been robbed when we found him, I saw Dunbarton had no watch, wallet, or even coat, so’s I knew somebody had already gone over him. I figgered it was old Hart—he an’ Fast Eddie been fightin’ about that stretch for years.”
“So y-you went to the p-p-pawnbroker he was known to use and bought the w-watch.”
Ryan grinned at Jasper. “You still don’t get it, do you? I didn’t buy Dunbarton’s watch, you poor dumb bastard; the one I planted on that Grady bitch was just a watch I liberated from a rich drunk we arrested one night.”
Everything Ryan said had to go through translation at least once or twice. This, however, Jasper understood immediately.
An odd sensation rocked him, like the sudden, violent shifting of the deck of a ship.
Don’t jump to conclusions, Jasper, the voice cautioned, not mocking for once.
Jasper realized Ryan had been talking and he’d missed it. “What d-did you say?”
“I said that I got the idea when things started to go south for the whore—the dress, the people talkin’ about her argument with Dunbarton. All I had to do was smear a bit o’ blood on it and stick it in a drawer when we came to search her room.” He laughed and stared at the far wall, shaking his head wonderingly. “It was so easy; nobody gives a damn about a whore. McElhenny was so bloody desperate that I probably could’ve told him what I’d done and he’d have been fine with it.”
“Why?”
Ryan’s homely face twisted with rage. “Why? That little bitch deserved what she got. She was a whore, and yet she was too good for me?” His fury flared. “It wasn’t enough to reject me; she had to do it in front of a crowd. And then she let that bastard Hy up ’er skirt, but not me? Well.” He snorted, his expression smug. “She played her games; I played mine.”
He glared at Jasper, but his anger slowly gave way to amazement. “I’ll be honest, I never thought she’d swing for it. I thought they’d just hold her until so
mebody got around to askin’ the widow to look at the watch. But McElhenny didn’t give a shit, and Donahue—who’d been workin’ the case with Hy—had fucked off back to Ireland, and Hy was off doin’ whatever he was doin’.” He shook his head. “And then the stupid bitch actually confessed.” Ryan gave a bark of grating laughter. “I couldn’t believe it! Still, I figured there’d be problems when the captain gave the watch back to the widow, but I saw Mrs. Dunbarton’s signature on the form identifyin’ it. And this wasn’t the sort of watch you’d mistake—it had a fancy ship on the cover.” His gaze turned inward. “I still don’t know why she lied. Maybe she just wanted it to be over with? Maybe she was glad somebody killed the bent bastard?”
Jasper pushed his racing thoughts aside and focused on the man across from him. “Why d-did you confess to Janssen’s m-murder?”
Ryan’s laugher was genuine this time. “Oh, you’re somethin’, my lord. Let’s just put it this way: I’ve got a wife and five brats. I might not like any of ’em too much, but it’s still my job to protect my family. Anyhow, I fucked up a simple job, and there ain’t no way I won’t hang for Finch. The money was to sign off on both, so I figured I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.” He narrowed his eyes. “You say I said any of that an’ I’ll call you a liar.”
“Who ordered you to k-kill Finch?”
Ryan laughed.
“I’ll pay you whatever they’re p-paying you—j-just to tell the truth. About all of it—who is p-paying you, who ordered you to k-kill Finch.”
Ryan shook his head. “And how will that protect my family? Besides, no matter what, I’ll still swing for Finch.” He gave Jasper a look of deep loathing. “Anyhow, I don’t care if you offered me every bloody penny in the Bank of England—I still wouldn’t do what you want. I was so damned happy when McCarty said he was gonna kill you. And he could have, too. But no, that would’ve been too easy—too smart. Instead he had to fuck about and play his little games, so somebody jerked his chain and reminded him that he’s nothing but a dog. So here you sit.” He grinned. “And here I sit—with something you want. For once in your life, my fine lord, you ain’t getting’ what you want—no matter if you offered me ten times what they paid. Has that ever happened to you before?” He didn’t wait for Jasper’s answer. “Your sort has been crushing people like me for centuries. You think I left Ireland because I wanted to?” He laughed harshly. “I had fourteen sisters and brothers—and nine of ’em starved when the man who owned the land we farmed kicked us off. Nine. My mother had to sell herself—sell her own children—to make ends meet.” Ryan’s jaw worked. “So, no—you can’t buy everything you want.” He shoved his chair back hard enough to hit the wall. “You can go fuck yourself.” He pounded on the door with the heel of his hand, and keys jingled in the lock so quickly that Jasper knew the guard had been listening.
The door opened, and Ryan stepped out into the corridor. “Don’t forget your promise. Two hundred; you gave your word,” he called over his shoulder as the guard led him away.
* * *
Jasper knew where he’d find her at this time of day.
The ten-minute walk from the Tombs to the girls’ school felt like twenty years.
Go home, Jasper. Forget what Ryan said—the man’s a murderer and a thief. He framed an innocent woman for murder and is proud of it.
Jasper knew the voice was right.
How can you know he’s telling the truth?
He couldn’t know.
If you go digging around, Anderson will find out. You know that he’ll make good on his threat if you renege on your deal.
He knew all that.
But still he couldn’t turn back. He had to ask her; he had to know.
A woman was locking the door to the New Beginnings School for Young Ladies, and she smiled when she saw him, obviously recognizing him. “Lord Jasper, how nice to see you again! You must be looking for Mrs. Dunbarton.”
Jasper had no idea who this woman was.
Her keys rattled as she unlocked the door. “She’s in the costume room. It’s just before you get to the girls’ quarters. She’s making a few last-minute repairs for our final rehearsal.”
“R-Rehearsal?”
“Yes—tonight is the first performance of the play.”
“Ah,” Jasper said, because he couldn’t think of anything else.
She smiled, her thin cheeks flushing. “I wrote it, you know.”
“Oh?” Jasper had no idea what she was talking about.
“The play—I wrote it. I wanted to call it Independence, but the girls were wild about The Fifty-Five Founding Fathers, even though there will only be seventeen of them on stage.” Jasper felt like he was in a play himself—a farce, where he was going through the motions while inside he was flying apart.
She opened the door. “Please remind Mrs. Dunbarton to bring a bit of extra glue. Patty’s wig keeps—”
Jasper shut the door on her last words, his rude behavior giving him a brief qualm.
The school was silent but for the sound of his bootheels on the floor—nothing like the last time, when it had been filled with girlish chatter. He followed the hallway to a room he’d not visited because it had been occupied with girls working on some project.
Today the door was open. There were a half dozen large tables, all cluttered with fabric, pots of paint, tufts of what looked to be hair or fur, and other theatrical detritus. At the far end of the room he saw an open doorway.
Hetty was inside, plying her needle on a garment, sitting on a worn velvet sofa. On the end table beside her were bits of fabric and a spirit lamp with a small pot.
She must have heard his footsteps. “Oh, Miss Daniels, I’m glad you’ve not left. I’ve got this for—” She looked up and froze.
The flash of fear was gone so fast that Jasper wouldn’t have seen it if he’d not been looking so closely. Had she always looked at him this way and he’d missed it?
Her cheeks darkened, and he knew she was remembering last night, when he’d laid her out in her monastic cell of a bedroom and explored every inch of her body.
“What a lovely surprise, Jasper. I didn’t expect to see you until—”
Jasper’s shoe had become stuck on something, and he tried to tug it loose, almost pulling it off in the process. His blood pounded in his ears as he leaned against the wall to look at the sole.
“Oh, those girls and their glue. I’m so sorry, but I have something that will take it off. I’m afraid they got it everywhere.”
Jasper touched the sticky, clear blob and lifted his finger to his nose, knowing what he’d smell before he smelled it.
“It’s made from pine tar.”
He could hear relief in her voice; no doubt she was pleased to be discussing such a mundane matter.
Jasper was reminded of that day at Balaclava; there was no screaming and no loud explosions or smoke, but he had the same sick sense of inevitability in his gut.
He looked up slowly.
Her eyes flickered nervously. “Last year one of the girls read something about Elizabethan actors making their own glue for wigs, beards, and such, and they weren’t happy until they tried it. So now we use it in all our productions. I’m afraid it makes a dreadful mess.” She gave a breathless laugh, her eyes dropping to her hands, her cheeks flushed as she babbled. “My poor maid has been driven half-mad cleaning my shoes—”
“Stop. Just … stop.”
He thought she might keep lying, but all the energy seemed to drain out of her.
“It was the watch, wasn’t it?”
Jasper sagged back against the wall. “Good Lord, Hetty. Why?”
Her head whipped up, and the fire that defined her burned in her eyes. And something else, too—dislike, or was it derision?—for him?
“Why? Wouldn’t a better question be why a man like Felix was not only allowed to destroy, but to do so with the knowledge—if not the outright approval—of the men who run our city? Our country?”
&n
bsp; “It is m-murder, Hetty.”
She laughed, the sound wild. “It was vengeance, and not nearly enough for the untold girls whose lives he destroyed—including mine. Can you imagine what I felt when I learned I’d married a monster?”
“Surely there was another way?”
“What other way? Why did you bring Agota to me, Jasper? Why were you so insistent that she get out of the city? Wasn’t that breaking the law? After all, I’m sure Madame Solange paid for the girl and she was twelve, more than old enough by the laws of this city; laws made by the very same men they benefited. How many lives did Felix, Wilbur, and Alard ruin? How many more should they have been allowed to ruin? It wasn’t just vengeance, Jasper—it was justice, and it was mercy.”
“You speak of m-mercy, yet an innocent woman died for your murders.”
He saw something—pain? Regret? Shame? But whatever it was, she quickly tucked it beneath her mask. “Caitlyn Grady’s death was … unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate.”
Her eyes flashed at his flat, sick tone. “What? You think I was pleased with what happened?”
“You c-could have saved her.”
“Yes, I could have.” She flung the words at him. “But at what cost? It was a sacrifice of the one for the many.”
“The end justifies the m-means?”
“In this situation it does, Jasper. And if you cannot see that—” She paused and shook her head, as if she were engaged in an internal argument. After a long moment of silence, she said, “I want you to know that Miss Grady was not an innocent victim.”
“Are you saying that she did k-kill your husband?”
“I’m saying she knew what she was doing.”
“She was with a m-man that night. She couldn’t have—”
“You have nothing—no evidence, no proof—and you know nothing. If you accuse me of murder, I will deny it to my dying breath. Besides, I have an unassailable alibi; I wasn’t even in the city when Felix was murdered.”
The truth struck him like the proverbial lightning bolt, and he laughed. “I c-can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.”
She frowned. “What?”
Absence of Mercy Page 32
