The Devil's Teeth (Ravenwood Mysteries #5)

by Sabrina Flynn

  "Why is my son in there?" Mr. Sheel asked.

  Sheriff Nash squared his shoulders. Isobel and the doctor had summoned him first. "I had to put him somewhere secure, until I can transfer him to a cell."

  Mr. Sheel stiffened with outrage. "What on earth?"

  Nash held up his hands. "Hear me out. There have been some… developments."

  Mr. Sheel glanced at Doctor Bright and Isobel. His jaw worked slightly. "What happened?"

  Nash cleared his throat. "Your son was erm… That is John tried to kill Titus last night. Early this morning."

  Mr. Sheel's fists curled, and his wife placed a handkerchief over her lips.

  "I did not!" John shouted from inside the room. "I told you, I only wanted to see my brother!"

  "These are serious accusations, Sheriff. I'll take my son's word over some half-cocked theory. I want him out of there. Now." The father wrenched opened the door, and John walked out.

  "It's not a theory, Mr. Sheel." Isobel said. "John sneaked into Titus's room last night, and placed a pillow over his mouth. The doctor and I were there, and saw him do it."

  Mr. Sheel laughed. "Some playfulness between brothers. That's all." He patted his son's back.

  "John confessed to pushing Titus into the well. And to doing the same to Gabriella Banker," Isobel said the words without emotion. Each word a blow, one after another. But both parents only shook their heads.

  "I can confirm every word," Julius said.

  "Impossible. He was distressed. Isn't that right, son?"

  "It is, Father. They misheard me is all. I said I tried to help. That I once pretended to push Titus in. But it was only a game."

  Mr. Sheel nodded. "There you have it."

  Nash held up a small, hinged pocket mirror. "We found this in his pocket. It was Gabriella's. It has her initials on it."

  "She gave it to me," John said.

  "That girl fell down the well. It was an accident," Mr. Sheel said. "And you didn't fill that death trap in. Your incompetence nearly killed my boy, Nash."

  Nash's fingers tightened around the mirror.

  Isobel looked to the mother. "Mrs. Sheel. How did you get those bruises around your neck?"

  "I don't remember," she said with a shaky breath.

  John smiled at his mother. "The doctor shoved me to the ground."

  "Because you attacked Miss Amsel," Julius said.

  "That woman was scaring me. She's crazy."

  Isobel ignored the boy. "Mrs. Sheel," she said softly. "Titus is in danger. Tell Sheriff Nash the truth. How did you get those bruises?"

  "I gave them to her," Mr. Sheel said quickly. "It's my right as her husband. It's not against the law for me to discipline my wife."

  Isobel stifled a growl.

  Mrs. Sheel stayed silent.

  "Titus will be able to clear up this accusation," Mr. Sheel said. "Meanwhile, I want you out of here." He pointed at Isobel. "You're not getting a dime out of us. Not after this… After these lies."

  John turned slightly, so Isobel was the only one who could see the small smile on his face. Every fiber of her body bristled with rage. Julius placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her a step back.

  "I think that's best, Miss Amsel," Sheriff Nash said. "Titus will clear things up when he wakes."

  "I should check on him," Julius said and turned to leave, but Mr. Sheel was shaking his head.

  "No, I don't want you near my son either. We'll take him home with us, and get a real doctor."

  Heels clicked down the hallway. A nurse in a blue dress hurried their way. "Doctor Bright. I was on my way to find you." She smiled at the Sheels. "Your son is awake." She beamed. But the hallway was silent. And her smile fell.

  Julius cleared his throat.

  But Nash beat him to it. "I'll talk with him."

  "And me," Mr. Sheel said.

  Julius shook his head. "I don't recommend upsetting Titus. It would be best if the sheriff spoke with him first."

  "He's my son, Doctor. I'll speak with him," Mr. Sheel said.

  "Sheriff," Julius implored.

  Nash shook his head. He gripped John's shoulder, and they followed after Mr. Sheel towards Titus's room.

  Isobel fell in step beside Mrs. Sheel. "You have to tell him," she hissed.

  "John is my son," Mrs. Sheel said faintly.

  "He tried to kill Titus."

  "I don't believe it. It was a mistake to hire you." Mrs. Sheel quickened her pace. And Isobel followed, feeling helpless.

  The parents went inside. Nash ordered John to wait with the doctor and Isobel, then he too stepped into the room. Grimly, Isobel watched and listened, and was not at all surprised.

  "Titus." Mrs. Sheel sat on the bed, and hugged her son. He was pale and weak, but recovering. The young were resilient.

  The boy hugged his mother back, taking refuge in her arms.

  "Father," Titus said, when he pulled away from his mother. His father nodded, but didn't reach out to his older son.

  "Titus, I'm Sheriff Nash. We've met before."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I'd like you to tell me what happened," Nash said in a deep, gentle voice.

  "There's a detective who claims your brother pushed you into that well. But that couldn't…"

  "Mr. Sheel," Nash cut in. "Let Titus tell the story."

  Mr. Sheel ignored the Sheriff. "It couldn't be the truth, now could it, son?"

  The boy stared at his father. He seemed to shrink, and pale even further. He looked like a ghost.

  "Surely it was an accident," Mrs. Sheel said. There was a note of begging in her voice.

  Silence. And then with a faint, wavering voice he sealed his fate. "I slipped."

  John Sheel looked up at Isobel, and smiled.

  "That little…" Isobel fumed. But words failed her. There wasn't a fitting word for that boy. John Sheel was a murderer. After the Sheel's had left with their sons, Nash and Isobel had joined Julius in his office.

  And now Isobel paced like a caged tiger.

  "That child is a psychopath," Julius stated.

  Sheriff Nash turned his Stetson over in his hands. "Are you sure you heard correctly?" he asked. "You both were run ragged, working on very little sleep—"

  "John tried to choke me," Isobel growled. She unbuttoned her collar, and brandished her bruises. "You need to throw that boy into a cell."

  Nash held up a hand. "Look, Miss Amsel, I appreciate you finding Titus. I do. But I can't do anything else. Unless Titus backs up your story… my hands are tied."

  "I heard every word, too," Julius said.

  "And I don't doubt you."

  "The facts are proof enough." Isobel began ticking off her fingers. "The knots. The magnifying glass. John Sheel tried to kill me with a reflection when I was climbing the Palisades. He nearly did me in."

  "A boyish prank," Nash said. "That's how the courts will see it. Without Titus's testimony we don't have proof."

  Isobel cursed under her breath. "John admitted to his crimes!" she fumed. Silence followed her sharp outburst.

  "And now he's denied them. As did the victim."

  Isobel took a breath.

  "Sheriff, this boy is… deeply disturbed. He'll kill again. Or try to," Julius said.

  "And I'll be watching him," Nash said. "Trust me. I'll sit down with Mr. Sheel, and have a good long talk with him. The father will watch his son. You can be sure of that."

  "How?" Isobel growled. "After he murders someone else? After his brother dies in a convenient accident?"

  Sheriff Nash was silent. But the firm set to his jaw made it clear his silence wasn't the thoughtful sort.

  "Sheriff," Julius said, catching his attention. "When you speak with the Sheels, I'd strongly suggest that they allow me to treat the boy. I may be able to reach him."

  "Before something bad happens? How can we risk that?” Isobel asked. "I'll press charges for his attack on me. With the doctor as a witness…" But even as she said it, she knew it would fail. She was a wom
an in an asylum convicted of a crime. And she'd be testifying against a wealthy man's son. Her only witness was another outcast of society: an alienist whose methods were frowned upon by his own peers.

  "Miss Amsel," Sheriff Nash said. "I'll scare that boy senseless, and I'll watch him like a hawk. I promise you that."

  "And when he's grown?" she asked.

  "I don't have any answers. But maybe he'll straighten out."

  "I'm not one for optimism when it comes to humankind."

  Sheriff Nash dipped his head. "I can understand that. And for what it's worth—"

  Isobel cut him off. "You're not the first man incapable of looking past my gender, Sheriff."

  "Well, you don't make it easy. Just so. I'm sorry for doubting you."

  "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. There's an innocent man in your jail, and you have his blood on your knuckles."

  Sheriff Nash turned his hat in his hands. "I'll make it right with Samuel. You have my word." He slipped on his Stetson and walked out of the office.

  Isobel sat down on the settee. Her mind grappled with failure, with a situation so far removed from logic that she had no words. "The parents are fools," she muttered.

  Julius lowered himself into his consultation chair. His smile was gone. The laugh lines had reversed, showing their true nature—the marks of a hard road.

  "As disillusioned as they may be, John is still their son. And they love him. Would you let yourself believe it?" he asked. "That one of your daughters was a murderer?"

  Isobel thought of Sao Jin. Of her violent streak, of the revolver she had pointed at the doctor. She met Julius’s gaze, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "I wouldn't have allowed it to get to this point."

  "How?" Julius wasn't asking about John Sheel.

  "I'll find a way," she vowed.

  Julius leaned forward. "So will I. With that boy. I have to believe a child like that can be helped."

  "And if he can't be?"

  "It doesn't mean we won't try."

  Both retreated into their own thoughts for a time. It was a comfortable sort of silence.

  Eventually, Julius roused himself. "Did you know it was John who would be coming through that window?"

  "I did."

  "But how?"

  "John was always one of my suspects."

  "One?"

  Isobel gave him an apologetic smile. "The last murderer I caught was a coroner. I was working on a case with him. And you did cross my mind, Doctor. Your protectiveness of Samuel and the cufflink under his floorboard were suspicious."

  "You thought I harmed Titus?"

  Isobel raised an eyebrow in a kind of shrug. "Trust doesn't come easily to me. At the very least, I thought you might have helped Samuel cover up a crime."

  Julius folded his hands over his waistcoat. But he wasn't upset, only thoughtful. "I can understand why you'd think that. But why did you suspect John?"

  "Why not?" she countered.

  "Most wouldn't suspect a child. I certainly didn't."

  "I'm not most." Isobel twitched her lips in a quick smile. "I don't shy away from uncomfortable truth and call it coincidence. John's story never set well with me. There were inconsistencies at every corner. When we found him he claimed he had been paralyzed with terror. Instead of running home to tell someone about his brother, he shot a quail and cooked it. The ashes in the fire were still hot."

  "Some fall back on the simple things when faced with tragedy."

  Isobel acknowledged the observation with a nod. "It wasn't one thing, but a culmination of clues that became hard to ignore." She counted off her fingers. "The type of knot used on the twine discounted Samuel, and told me that whoever was aiming that glass at my face was also present at the well. Jin found a length of twine tied to one of the bushes. The two pieces of twine matched. Hunters use lures all the time to attract prey. And what boy wouldn't stand at the edge of the well to look for a cherished gift?”

  Another finger ticked. "The birthday celebration. When I questioned John it was clear he was angry at having to share a birthday party with his older brother. And on the wrong day, no less. Not only that, John is a hunter. He considers himself equal to Daniel Boone and Wild Bill, and he was gifted a peashooter. That would wound anyone's fragile ego. By themselves, these don't make a murderer, but John has a cruel streak. Fighting with a brother is one thing, but fighting with a brother who is trying to stop you from shooting someone's dog is quite another."

  "And the mother's distance," Julius pointed out.

  Isobel nodded. "Mrs. Sheel was stiff with her younger son. Hesitant. He didn't want her comfort. When I questioned her about the bruises on her neck, she became defensive. Now I know she was protecting her son despite his abuse of her."

  "Why did you pause in the Sheel's sitting room. You looked at their family bible."

  "John claimed his mother read to them every day from the bible. But he said that she never started at the beginning—the Old Testament. Most mothers don't read that part to their children. It's too brutal. Too graphic. When I looked, the bookmark was buried in the New Testament, but the pages were open to Genesis."

  "And that is significant how?"

  "Cain murders his brother Abel. Joseph is thrown down a well by his jealous brothers."

  "I didn't take you for a churchgoer, Miss Amsel."

  Isobel smiled. "I'm not. But that doesn't mean I don't read. Beheadings, floggings, a woman driving a tent peg through a man’s head, and prostitutes saving the day. It's like an ancient penny dreadful."

  "You think John read it?"

  "The exciting bits," she said. "What child hasn't? Given John's cruel streak, it isn't a stretch to imagine he'd be drawn to such stories. And maybe get a few ideas of his own. There was also Gabriella Banker. Both boys knew her. They explored together. And from what Mr. Holm said, she outdid them. A boy's ego will generally be hurt when a girl outperforms him. I left a string of fuming boys behind me as a little girl. But the final straw was the chair in Titus's room."

  "What of it?"

  "It wasn't by his desk. It was by his door. There were deep gouges in the floor that matched the chair's legs. Titus used it to jam the door shut. To protect himself."

  "Titus might have done that to keep his father out."

  "He might have, but in this case, Mr. Sheel wasn't anywhere near the boys. My father and Hop confirmed that. If it hadn't been for the strange circumstance of the magnifying glass, I might have suspected a random traveler or a miner. But it was too convenient. And it didn't explain the rest. The only piece that fit into the jumble of clues was John. But I barely realized it in time. And when I did I knew he'd be back to make sure Titus never uttered a word."

  "Impressive."

  Isobel felt her cheeks warm. "Thank you."

  Julius cleared his throat. "If I recall my Sunday School correctly, Joseph's brothers lowered him into a well and sold him into slavery. Out of envy."

  Isobel frowned at the rug. "Envy has a powerful bite. Joseph's brothers eventually felt remorse, but I'm afraid John Sheel will never feel that."

  "We can hope," Julius said.

  "Never a strong suit of mine."

  "And yet you hold out hope for Sao Jin."

  Isobel said nothing.

  "May I ask, Miss Amsel…"

  "Probably not."

  He harrumphed, and she arched an impatient brow for him to continue.

  "Why are you adopting those girls? Have you considered the implications?"

  Isobel was quiet for a time. It was a good question. A powerful one. And she didn't take it lightly. "I probably haven't," she admitted. "I can't, because life is as unpredictable as the sea. Riot and I will try to keep our heads above water, and we'll help Jin and Sarah do the same until they're able to strike out on their own. I think that's all any parent can do. The rest will be up to them."

  Julius pondered her words. "Do you know, Miss Amsel, you may be the sanest person I've ever met."

 
"Insults are beneath you, Doctor. But given what you just said, I hope these past days absolve me from future talking sessions."

  Julius only laughed.

  "I thought not." Isobel climbed to her feet. She felt old and tired. And fragile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to fall into my bed."

  "I believe I'll do that very same thing. Sleep well, Miss Amsel. You did everything you could."

  The words stuck with her. Despite everything, she felt a failure. And with every step that feeling intensified. Her mood spiraled into a hole as dark as the well she'd pulled Titus from.

  29

  The Trouble with Rings

  RIOT

  A throat cleared. "So."

  Riot glanced up from his desk. Tim stood in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Badge number checks out." But the grin on the old man's face said otherwise.

  "But?"

  "Issued in 1897 to an Officer Clemens, who went to a saloon to celebrate his new job. He was promptly killed in a drunken brawl. Him being one of the drunks. His badge was stolen somewhere between the saloon and the grave."

  "Where it appears on a man three years later. Any idea who the other fellow involved in the fight was?" Riot asked.

  "It was a woman," Tim corrected. "Mad Meg had a mean left hook, and the inebriated new officer hit his head on a spittoon, just so. No charges were pressed due to embarrassment."

  Riot leaned back in his chair. "I hope you'll do me the same favor, Tim."

  "Already planned to. I suspect that wildcat of a woman you're fixin' to marry will be the death of you."

  Riot ignored the twinkle in the old man's eye. "The house?"

  "Inherited after Nicholas's grandmother died of cancer last year. Nicholas graduated with honors in chemistry from the University of California. He's been working for Mr. Joy for the past four months."

  "Who was taking care of the house while he was across the bay?"

  "It was being rented to a distant relative, who recently got married and moved to Sacramento."

  Riot frowned at a missive on his desk. He hadn't heard from Isobel since that single, brief telegram about Jin.

  Tim knew him well enough to know where his mind was. "She can take care of herself," Tim said.