by Bryan Davis
“Yes. Trusting. Innocent. Naïve. She needs someone to watch over her.”
“How will you do that? You have no income, no safe place to stay.”
“I know, but she can’t return to where she was. The woman who looks after her is abusive. That welt is likely the result of a savage slap.”
The inspector’s brow lifted. “I can look into charging this woman, if you wish.”
“Even if you do, Justice would still have to leave. I promised I would take her in. I can’t abandon her now.”
“But where will you go?” He spread his hands. “Here? In the catacombs? Ridiculous. Even if so, how will you survive? What will you eat? Do you think Francine will bring enough food every day to—”
“You knew about that?”
“I am a detective. Of course I knew. I have kept my eye on Francine’s movements for quite some time.”
“Then you know of her willingness to serve others. Maybe she would take Justice in.”
“Certainly she would if asked,” the inspector said. “But would it be appropriate to put such a burden on her at a time like this? With the tragic death of her mother, the emotional exhaustion from the funeral, and the legal annoyances in the settling of the estate, she will have enough burdens already, not to mention the fact that a murder has taken place at her house, and the murderer is still at large.”
“You raise good points, Inspector, but do you have a solution?”
He cleared his throat and straightened his sleeves in a nervous sort of way. “Well, I was thinking she might live with us. My wife was a nurse until our daughter came along, so she is more than capable of caring for your sister.”
I looked into the inspector’s compassionate eyes. No doubt he would do all he could to ensure Justice’s good fortunes, but there was more to consider. “How old is your daughter?”
He hesitated a moment before answering. “One year last week.”
“Then your wife is already busy. A one-year-old is quite a handful.”
“This is true, but we are more than willing to help, and you have no viable alternatives.”
“I can’t argue with that.” I patted his back. “Thank you for the kind offer. We’ll ask Justice about it.”
With both lanterns in tow, we climbed to the top. When I surfaced, two carriages stood in view on the far side of the brook. One carried Justice and a woman I didn’t recognize, and the other carried Francine and an elderly male driver.
I walked toward them, the inspector following. As I drew closer, the unfamiliar woman spoke to Justice while looking at me. Justice climbed down from the carriage and spread her arms, calling, “Justin?”
I ran across the makeshift bridge and into her embrace. As we held each other, I kissed her cheek. “I’m here, Justice. I’m here.”
“I’m so glad.” She kissed me in return and drew back, her blank eyes wandering. The welt on her cheek, red and swollen, seemed to burn a hole in my heart. “Where have you been?” she asked. “You smell … musty, I think. And I smell lantern oil.”
Mother, it would be impossible to describe the delight I felt in seeing Justice. Although it had been such a short time, with all that had happened, and with the danger I was facing, I wondered if I would ever see her again. The thought of lying to keep her blissfully ignorant didn’t cross my mind until the moment I wrote this account. I am thankful that telling the truth was a more natural response.
“I was in the catacombs, and I needed a lantern there.” I guided Justice’s hand to my lantern. As she ran her fingers along its handle, I glanced at Francine. She sat quietly in the bench seat behind her driver, presumably Denis, her carriage alongside Justice’s. “Some people think I committed murder,” I continued, “so I have to hide from those who would have my head in a basket.”
Instead of an expression of shock, she offered a sad sort of smile. “I know, Justin.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “About the suspicions. The commissaire told me you were probably hiding. But no one mentioned the catacombs. I heard water running, and I smelled charred remains, so I guessed where we are. Francine confirmed my guess.”
I glanced at Francine again before looking again at Justice. “Do you believe I’m innocent?”
“Of course. You are gentle and kind. You wouldn’t harm anyone.”
“Thank you for believing in me.”
“Always.” She turned to the carriage she had been riding. “Madame Fortier, would you hand the basket to me?”
Madame Fortier, a light-haired woman in her mid-thirties, held a sleeping child in her lap. She passed a woven fruit basket to Justice. The inspector joined his wife and climbed into the driver’s seat. Sad doubt weighed down the couple’s expressions as he put on his hat and took the reins.
Justice held the basket by its handle and showed it to me. “You see, Justin? It’s perfect.” She ran a hand along the bottom. “Not a single flaw. Surely it will sell at the market.”
I looked the basket over. Indeed, she had woven it with great care and precision. Yet, one of the flat reeds was discolored, an obvious flaw to anyone with sight. The price of the basket would have to be discounted, perhaps severely.
Again, I could not lie, but love doesn’t always demand the whole truth. “Your weaving skills are excellent, Justice. I am so proud of you.”
Her face lit up like the sun. “Thank you. Now I can contribute to our household income. That is, as soon as your name has been cleared.”
“I’m sure you can, but until that time comes, I need you to go—”
“No, Justin.” Her eyes grew wide and wet. “I cannot go back to that woman.” She touched the welt on her cheek. “This is the one you can see. I have three more you cannot see, including a burn.” Justice broke into sobs. “She has gone mad, I tell you. Mad.”
I pulled her close and let her weep against my chest. As I shushed her, I whispered, “You’re not going back there, my dearest. Never again.” I looked at the inspector. He brushed a tear away and averted his eyes.
When Justice drew back, she sniffed, her own tears beginning to spill. “Where will I go?”
I dabbed at her tears with a clean portion of my sleeve. “The good inspector and his wife have offered to take you in. She is a former nurse so she is well qualified to care for you.”
At this point, Francine climbed down from her carriage and drew closer.
Justice whispered, “They have a little girl, Justin, and they are grieving the recent death of an older daughter. How could I add to their burdens?”
I whispered in return. “An older daughter died? When? Why?”
“I don’t know what caused her death, but she was ten years old and passed away in Inspector Fortier’s arms only six months ago. He wept as he told the story. I didn’t want to ask him for more details.”
“Ten years old?” A lump swelled in my throat. “I had no idea.”
Justice ran a hand along my arm. “Of course you didn’t, but now you know why I don’t want to go there. No matter how loving they are, I will be a burden.”
I brushed away a tear of my own, grief spiking my voice. “But I have no other options. I can’t let you—”
“You have other options,” Francine said as she walked closer. “I will take her.”
Justice turned toward her. “You will?”
“The very reason I came.” Francine curled her arm through Justice’s and looked at me. “Gossip is swirling in the city. I heard about Justice’s search for you, and I guessed that she would need a roof over her head. I am more than happy to provide it.”
“Francine,” I said, “of course I thought of you right away, but I assumed with all the burdens you’re carrying that you—”
“My burdens? Justin, yours are far heavier. I am delighted to lift at least this one for you.”
“Considering what happened to Marguerite, do you have any concerns about safety?”
“We have doubled our locks, including on the guest bedroom.
She will be safe.”
I tried to invent a new challenge, but nothing came to mind. Francine’s insistence was holding sway. “I’m glad to hear about the locks.”
“Then it’s settled.” Francine took Justice’s basket and guided her toward me. “Say good-bye to your brother, and we will be on our way.”
Justice kissed me on the cheek. “Come and see me soon.”
“I will.” I kissed hers in return. “Very soon.”
Francine leaned close to me, her words soft. “Did you find it?”
I nodded.
Her voice lowered further. “Midnight tonight. Everyone should be asleep by then.”
“I’ll be there.”
While Francine led Justice toward her carriage, I stepped closer to Inspector Fortier as he sat in his seat. “Are you content with this solution?”
“Content, though I do have reservations.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I will contact you when I have news about the case.” He gave the reins a snap, and the horse trotted away with its load.
When Francine’s carriage followed with Justice on board, I watched their progress until both carriages drove out of sight. Then, I walked in their path. I couldn’t hide in the catacombs until I was certain that Justice would be safe from any lurking menace. I needed to check on the security precautions myself.
Mother, watching Justice leave was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. She was so vulnerable, so easily victimized. She reminded me of the chick you once showed me, freshly hatched from an egg, wet and struggling to stand. It chirped, calling for its mother, though it had no idea where she was or what she looked like. Such is innocent blindness. A chick, or a young woman, has to trust in the goodness of someone else, believe that the wing she nestles under is one of protection.
Of Francine’s wings of protection, I had no doubts of my own. Yet Jean’s accusations of witchcraft still haunted my thoughts. I had to brush them away. It was superstitious nonsense. Besides, Francine would surely treat Justice kindly and keep her safe, not only for the obvious altruistic reasons but also—if someone were so unkind to suggest it—for self-serving ones. Caring for the blind sister of the man who was accused of murdering her mother would greatly enhance her reputation among the socialites, especially in her church. That thought provided comfort as I continued the long walk to the Noëls’ house.
Chapter Twenty
When I arrived at the Noëls’ house, I crept around to the back alley and surveyed the rear door and windows. Everything seemed secure. I walked to the other end of the alley and found the inspector standing near the corner of the front street. I backed out of sight and peered around the last house in the row. Why would he station himself there? Maybe he wasn’t convinced that extra locks would be enough to keep the occupants safe. And if he wasn’t convinced, then I shouldn’t be either.
The inspector walked toward the alley. I ducked behind a low brick wall and watched him over the top edge. He drew a revolver from his coat and scanned the area. After a few moments, he put the gun away and returned to his former station.
Now out of his line of sight, I hurried back to the rear of the Noëls’ house and hid behind a waist-high planter box. Misty rain spread through the air. Cold wind added a chill. Inspector Fortier would probably leave soon, which meant that I had to remain as Justice’s lone guard. Rain, cold, and hunger mattered nothing. I had to protect Justice.
The sky darkened to evening’s shade. Thunder rolled far away. Black clouds loomed on the horizon, promising a downpour. Able now to move unseen, I stepped away from my hiding place and into the alley. At the alley’s end, opposite of my entry direction, three figures drew closer, shrouded in darkness.
A swinging lantern in the hand of the smallest figure illuminated Jean’s face. He ran ahead, calling, “Justin, we found you.”
When he arrived, he pointed at the two others as they drew closer at a slower pace. One man hobbled while the other supported him. Soon, they came into the light. Michael, carrying a carpetbag on one side, supported Cameron Trotter by the arm on the other.
I rushed to them and grasped Cameron. We helped him sit with his back to the house opposite the Noëls’ home. Jean gave the lantern to me, whispering, “This is ours, but you can use it till we leave.”
After setting the carpetbag down, Michael knelt next to Cameron and gestured for me to come closer. “This man says he knows you. He is one of us and has lost his ward, a girl named Justice. He searched for hours until his candle melted to a mere wafer. The candle’s light led him to this area, but he was unable to find her. When I discovered him, he had already collapsed. I helped him rise, and he maintained enough sensibility to move his legs, but he hasn’t been able to tell me who he is.”
“He’s the ghost version of my father.” I crouched and set the lantern close to Cameron. He appeared wan and wasted, as if devoured by malnutrition. “Father, were you looking for me?”
His eyes fluttered open. “Justin?”
I leaned close. “Yes. I’m here.”
He slid his hand into mine. “You must find Justice. She is not yet blind.”
“Do you mean my sister? She is already blind.”
“No, no. Not your sister. Until Justice is blind, she is dangerous. You must pursue her. Stop her before it’s too late.”
“Too late? Do you mean before your time here is over?”
“My time is over, Justin. Hers will go on. She was never human. She cannot die, but her purposes can be thwarted. She must be fully blind so she can never do to others what she did to me.”
“How? Why?”
“Don’t you remember?” He caressed my cheek. “You saw me, Justin, but you ran before I could explain.”
“The night you killed that woman?”
“But I didn’t kill her, I …” His eyes widened, and he looked skyward. For a moment, he smiled. Then his head lolled to the side. Seconds later, he faded and disappeared.
The tingle of his touch lingered, growing hot on my cheek. I climbed to my feet, staggered to the wall on quaking legs, and leaned against it. “Michael, what does all this mean?”
“I don’t know.” He rose and joined me. “But it seems that you need to find Justice, whoever she is.”
“I’ve seen her. The first time was on a city street, then soon after at the masquerade party. She appeared to be Jean’s age. I saw her once again at the funeral. She was older, maybe eleven or twelve.”
“How odd,” Michael said. “Jean doesn’t age, nor did Pierre.”
“Maybe Justice is even older now, so I have to search for a female of any age, but where and how? And what did he mean by her needing to be blind?”
“Again, I don’t know.”
“I can help,” Jean said, looking at Michael. “Justin and I can search for her together.”
Michael frowned. “You have yet to pass the test. We have time for only one more trial.”
“The test?” I asked.
“It is the reason we were in the area. Jean hoped you would witness his final trial.”
Jean took my hand. “I’m going with Justin. To blazes with the trial.”
“Your lack of temperance might send you to blazes.” Michael’s stern expression faded as he let out a long sigh. “Perhaps we have time, depending on how long the search takes.”
“She must be close,” Jean said. “Justin’s father was coming this way.”
I pulled my coat close and shivered. The misty rain stopped, but thunder in the distance promised more bad weather. “Now that darkness has fallen, I don’t see any hope of finding her.”
“Then what should we do?” Jean asked.
“I’m not sure. If only—”
A stroke of lightning interrupted. The flash illuminated the Noëls’ house and a face in the window. Justice stared at us, though not my sister. Although they looked alike, somehow I knew. Then darkness veiled her. Another stroke crashed somewhere nearby. This time, she was gone.
I whispered, “S
he’s inside.” Large raindrops pelted my head. A deluge would follow soon. “I need to get in there. She might cause trouble.”
“I believe you’re right.” Michael gestured toward the carpetbag he had brought. “I collected your belongings and put them in there. I assumed you weren’t returning to the catacombs.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Michael took Jean’s hand. “Now that you have found her, we’ll be going.”
“No.” Jean pulled away. “I want to stay. I want to help.”
Michael stooped and looked at him eye to eye. “Jean, your eternity is at stake. We have time for one trial. One. You know what such a trial entails. Think carefully about your decision. I will honor it.”
Jean looked at me, then at the Noëls’ house. After a few seconds, he lowered his head. “I will go with you.”
“Good.” Michael straightened and picked up the lantern. “There is no time to lose.”
“What about the storm?” I asked.
“It won’t affect us.” He faded to near transparency. In the dim flash from a distant lightning strike, raindrops passed through his body. “Godspeed to you, Justin. I greatly appreciate our talks. I hope we meet again someday.” They walked away and blended into the darkness.
Their departure drained me, as if I had lost two dear friends. Although dead, they seemed more alive to me than nearly anyone who had crossed my path here in Paris. For their help and encouragement, I am grateful to this day.
Now alone and with only occasional thunder interrupting the silence, my father’s words echoed. She was never human. She cannot die … she must be fully blind. … I didn’t kill her.
Since he was the teacher and Justice was the student, he couldn’t have been a murderer. After all these years, the truth finally came out, spoken by the ghost of my father. He was innocent of the crime. Yet, who was this girl named Justice whom he was assigned to teach, and why did he want her to be blind?
A clap of thunder jolted me from my trance. I hurried to the Noëls’ door and found it locked. Since it was still a few hours before midnight, Francine was not yet expecting me.