by Evelyn James
“There has to be another way.”
“We can’t think of one,” O’Harris told him. “This person who has taken against you is using items associated with your bounty hunting days in his attacks. We need to know why. That may lead to tracking this person down. We don’t know what they intend, but I have a feeling that ultimately they will be after your blood.”
Clark did not flinch at this blunt statement, though Polly started to softly weep.
“I don’t know if I want to remember,” Clark insisted. “Maybe some things are better forgotten.”
“My mesmerist can place you in a trance where he can speak to your unconscious mind, have you speak about your memories, but when you wake you shall not recall any of it,” O’Harris explained. “The thing is Clark, nothing is ever really forgotten. It is all still there in your head, and it will come out in ways you do not understand. Sudden aversions to things, places or objects. Fears you cannot explain. Nightmares. Waking dreams. All sorts of unpleasant, insidious ways. Trust me on this. Your mind will let things slip through in the most alarming ways, because it just can’t handle blocking out so much. I work every day with men going through the same thing, men who have attempted to push out from their heads the trauma that happened to them in the war. They never succeed.”
Clark had lowered his head. Out of the corner of his eye he was watching Polly. He curled his fingers into the cloth of his shirt sleeve.
“I ain’t never backed down from a fight,” he said. “I’ve stared death in the eye. I’ve always done my duty and looked out for others. I don’t like that some mad man is attacking those around me, to get at me. I want to stop him.”
“You can, if you will just give my idea a shot,” O’Harris said.
Clark had his attention on Polly, his face slack with the emotion of seeing her distress.
“Damn cur, attacking an innocent girl!” He declared. “I’ve killed men like that all my days. I don’t even know why I stopped. Clearly there is one last bounty out there to collect and I have to pull on my spurs and hold fast my courage.”
Clark turned his gaze on O’Harris.
“I can’t say I like it, the idea reeks of meddling with things you shouldn’t, but I’ve got to protect folks,” Clark did not look convinced even as he spoke. “I’ll try your way. You bring this fella to me and see if he can help me remember. No one ever could call me a coward.”
Chapter Fourteen
Arrangements would need to be made for the mesmerism session, so Clara returned home feeling exhausted by all the recent drama. She hoped that nothing more would happen at the funfair overnight. Having talked to Maven, he had confirmed that Gunther would be watching Clark’s caravan at all times. The problem was, he could not also watch Clark’s friends and who knew whom might be next on the killer’s list. Mary and David were both unguarded and potentially exposed to danger. It depended on what this madman intended; was he harming those Clark cared about as a prelude to killing the man? Clara hoped the mesmerism session the next day would give them some clues.
Barely in her front door, Clara was confronted by Annie who had a strange pout on her face, a mixture of annoyance and concern. Clara wondered what she had done to elicit such a look.
“There is someone to see you, they are sitting in the morning room. They refused to be in one of the front rooms as the windows looked onto the street.”
Clara could only frown at this peculiar circumstance.
“That is very cryptic,” she said.
Annie’s response was to raise her eyebrows and give a muttered ‘hmm’ under her breath, before she stalked away to the kitchen.
Clara headed for the morning room where she saw a slender woman stood before the window, gazing out into the garden. She was wearing a long, grey wool coat, the sort that was currently very fashionable and removed all idea of shape from the wearer, rather like a rug with sleeves tossed over a person. She had dark brown hair arranged into a bun and wore no hat. Clara noticed the hat a moment later lying on a chair, it was also grey. Along with the neat but well-worn shoes on the woman’s feet, the impression the clothing gave was that the lady was of modest but serviceable means, perhaps a higher-up servant or shop worker.
“Good afternoon,” Clara announced herself as the woman seemed distracted by her own thoughts.
The woman spun around sharply. She was wearing round spectacles with thick lenses that made her eyes appear huge. Her pale face gave the impression of someone who has been recently very ill. The only snatch of relief from the woman’s gloomy appearance was a pale blue stone in a silver brooch, that she wore at her neck. As she turned, one slender hand went up to it and touched it unconsciously.
Clara smiled at her guest.
“Hello Chang.”
“Damn, how did you know?” Chang dropped his hands to his sides and glared at her in irritation. “I was assured these glasses completely removed the oriental slant of my eyes and no one on the bus noticed I was a man. I had several fellows kindly offering to give up their seat for me.”
“I suppose I know you too well,” Clara shrugged. “Also, I make a livelihood of observing people and seeing through the masks they put up. I did not expect you here, what if your sister has someone watching my house?”
“I told you I came by bus, and I had someone go ahead and check the street for anyone watching. There was no one. Besides, I have arranged for Jao to be kept busy while I talk to you,” Chang grinned and all pretence of being a humble old maid was gone. “I learned my sister had a small shipment coming in on a yacht this morning. Some of my lads have been feeling rather restless and jumped at the chance of intercepting the delivery. About now Jao is learning that her smuggled opium has been stolen from under her nose. That should keep her busy.”
“You place a lot of faith in your men, how do you know they succeeded?” Clara pointed out.
“Even if they didn’t, the commotion caused will be disrupting Jao’s day. But the men I sent are good. Jao might have snatched people from me when she started her gang, but they were not my top men. No, I have always treated the best of my men well and they have stayed with me in this dark time. No doubt, the resentment of others who are less favoured is what drove them to join Jao. It means she has the second-rate gangsters,” Chang was very confident in this. “Anyway, it was only intended as a diversion, to ensure I could meet you without any trouble.”
Clara was worried by Chang’s cocky arrogance, but there was not much she could do about the situation now. He was here and that was that.
“What did you do to upset Annie?” She asked as she sat on the sofa.
Chang looked confused as he joined her.
“I can’t recall doing anything. I was most polite.”
“She has not brought you any tea,” Clara noticed. It was unusual for Annie to not bring a visitor tea, even one she did not care for.
“Oh, I refused tea. English tea is very disagreeable.”
Clara chuckled.
“That’s how you upset Annie then. Refusing tea is equivalent to an insult to her.”
Chang was obviously bemused at this statement, then he softly chuckled too and a little of the tension lifted.
“I shall recall that in future. I would not wish to offend Annie again,” he said. “Do you think she guessed I was not a woman?”
“I could not say without asking her,” Clara replied. “Now, I imagine you are here because of the message I sent to our go-between concerning my idea?”
“I am,” Chang nodded. “I felt I needed to come in person. Your suggestion is a good one and I liked the idea of giving the police a big kick up the backside.”
“The chiefs of police,” Clara corrected. “This is not about getting at the inspector, he has been trying his hardest.”
Chang’s dark gaze implied he cared very little about the inspector or what consequences might occur to him.
“Anyway, I see this as a very fortuitous circumstance. The Earl of Bristol is attendin
g the pageant and he is a good friend. I think he shall be very willing to participate in our escapade. I like this plan, a way of having Jao arrested and put out of harm’s way without violence.”
“There needs to be evidence that she orchestrated the kidnapping,” Clara reminded him. “I don’t suppose it will take much to get the Chief Constable to react quickly. He shall be so disturbed that an earl was abducted on his watch that he shan’t need much persuasion to point the finger at the wrong culprit.”
“You see, Clara, you are as cynical of the intellect of the police as any good criminal.”
Clara snorted.
“I never doubt Park-Coombs. We have had this discussion before, and I am certain he is not corrupt. However, I think some of his superiors have forgotten what policing is about when they became involved in the politics of running the force.”
Chang’s smiled suggested he thought she was being naïve, but he was gracious enough not to voice his opinion.
“What of these locals who want to help?” He asked.
“Jao has stirred up trouble and upset a lot of folks, they want to take their revenge.”
Chang nodded.
“All the better for us. Let me contact the earl and then we must have a proper meeting with everyone who is going to be involved present.”
Clara felt a pang of anxiety slowly creep into her. She knew they had to do this, for if they allowed Jao to carry on without interference she would soon have the town in chaos. Tempers were on the cusp of boiling over, and something stupid was liable to occur if nothing was done. The men who had come to Clara were clearly ready to take the fight to Jao, and if Clara did not help them to do that in a controlled fashion, she feared they would do something reckless, like attacking some of Jao’s men and starting a gang war.
With any luck this scheme would see Jao stopped without anyone getting hurt. Yet, there were so many ways things could go wrong. Clara tried not to focus on those concerns, they had to take this chance.
“You trust these men who have come to you?” Chang asked abruptly, as if he had read her thoughts.
“I trust their anger,” she replied. “They were fuelled by outrage, that was plain. If you mean to imply this is some sort of trick by Jao to lure you out, well, that means you think she knows we are working together.”
“No,” Chang said, shaking his head though it was plain the notion had crossed his mind and was troubling him. “She isn’t that cunning, and she could not have foreseen that you would come up with this kidnapping plan which would require you to involve me. There would be easier ways to lure me out, if she wished.”
Clara did not want to think about those ‘easier ways’, she had a nasty feeling they might include her being kidnapped and held hostage.
“We shall be as cautious as we can be,” Chang decided, nodding his head in resolve.
He seemed calm and self-confident again, but when the front door suddenly opened and closed, he jumped out of his skin, revealing that he was really taut as a wire over the whole affair. Tommy’s voice echoed down the hallway, calling out to see who was around.
“Tommy back from cricket practice at the convalescence home,” Clara explained. “He is coaching the men, some have never learned, others are refreshing their skills.”
“In this weather?” Chang glanced at the grey sky out of the window.
“It isn’t raining,” Clara assured him. “Besides, this is England, and nine times out of ten the weather is disagreeable to outdoor pursuits, so you just have to get on with it.”
Chang looked baffled at this mentality. He rose, retrieved his hat and then felt in his coat pocket for his money, to count out his return fare on the bus.
“Now, that is where you have made an error,” Clara pointed her finger at his hands and the coins.
“What?” Chang looked both bemused and annoyed that she had found a mistake in his disguise.
“No woman, no matter how poor, would leave the house without a handbag if she could help it. The sort of woman you are pretending to be would most certainly never carry loose change in her pocket. If she truly did not have a handbag, then at the very least she would be carrying a money purse in her pocket.”
Chang frowned, first at the money in his hand, then at the offending pocket.
“This business of disguises is more complicated than I thought,” he said. “I am very new to it. I never required one before.”
“Given time I am sure you will figure it out,” Clara smirked, slightly satisfied that she had found a chink in Chang’s armour. They were enemies, in normal life, after all. This temporary truce was only for the duration.
“Might I borrow a purse?” Chang asked, now worried about his appearance.
Clara retrieved a small change purse she carried in her own handbag, it contained a little money for things like bus fares and buying newspapers. She emptied it and handed it over.
“Thank you, I shall return it,” Chang said with surprising formality.
Clara was even more amused.
“I think I can live without it. I have others in my bedroom. Distant aunts are very fond of sending coin purses as Christmas presents, seeing as they have no idea what else to send. It is either that or handkerchiefs, of which I also have a plethora.”
Chang finally saw the humour in the situation.
“In another life, imagine if we had been friends Clara?” He said, his eyes sparkling at her and Clara wondered if he was contemplating scenarios where they were more than friends. She hid the shudder that almost came over her at the thought. Chang was a snake, a man who dealt in dark business, they could never be friends. “We could have dominated London, the pair of us.”
“I am not criminally inclined,” Clara reminded him.
“That is such a shame,” Chang sighed. “You have quite the mind for deception, what a pity it is going to waste.”
Now Clara was offended.
“I do not consider what I do wasting my mind,” she informed him.
“Let’s not argue over it,” Chang said in appeasement. “For the time being we are worthy allies. No doubt you will be relieved when I return to London.”
Clara did not reply, she thought he wanted her to say something back along the lines of she would be pleased, and she did not want to give him the satisfaction. All the same, her lips pressed into an unconscious expression of her annoyance.
Chang had his grin back.
“I have outstayed my welcome,” he said, and Clara was sure he sounded pleased with this. “Until we meet again.”
He placed the grey hat on his head, carefully placed his change in the borrowed purse and exited the morning room. Clara showed him to the front door with some relief and watched him go. She noticed that despite her criticisms of his disguise, Chang did make the effort to modify his stance and demeanour once outside to appear like the innocuous, down-at-heel woman he was trying to pretend to be. His confident walk was gone, and he hunched a little as he shuffled to the front gate. At a distance, no one would think he was a man in a skirt.
Clara closed the door and turned around. Tommy was standing in the doorway of the parlour.
“New client?”
“Not quite,” Clara replied. “More like an old one. But I don’t think I will see her again.”
“Isn’t she the maid from the house on Park Hill? The one they have had for decades? Used to chase us away from the house with that big broom of hers.”
Clara tried to recall this maid that Tommy clearly remembered vividly. Her memory slowly conjured up the woman and it suddenly struck her that Chang had unknowingly mirrored the woman perfectly. She laughed to herself.
“What’s funny?” Tommy asked.
“Coincidences and synchronicities,” Clara said. “How life has a way of forming patterns. It starts to make you wonder if there is a sort of plan to the universe.”
“Steady on old girl, that almost sounds religious,” Tommy raised an eyebrow at her. He was the spiritual one while Cla
ra was distinctly uncertain about God.
“How did the cricket go?” Clara said changing the subject. “Oh, and John is organising for Clark to be mesmerised.”
“John,” Tommy grinned at her use of O’Harris’ first name.
Clara punched his arm playfully.
“Stop teasing me,” she told him firmly.
Chapter Fifteen
Maven was sceptical about mesmerism. He had had a mesmerist working in the funfair for a while, a man who was a better confidence artist than he was anything useful. He had all sorts of tricks for supposedly reading peoples’ minds and he could convince people that they would leave the funfair feeling happier, more confident, more assertive, or whatever it was they felt they were lacking in their lives. It was all going wonderfully, and he was very popular, until the police arrested him one day for tricking a wealthy gentleman into handing over a large sum of money with the promise he could make him lose weight just by the power of his thoughts. Naturally, the gentleman had not lost weight, if anything he had gained some as he had stopped worrying about what he was eating, assuming the mesmerist’s mental powers would overcome his gluttony.
Arrested for fraud, Maven never saw the mesmerist again and was rather glad. He was not keen on another mesmerist, albeit one with a medical degree in psychiatry, coming to mess with Clark’s head.
“It’s all word games and suggestion,” he told Clara firmly.
They were stood to one side as O’Harris introduced the doctor to Clark inside his caravan. It was the day after the attack on Polly, relatively early in the morning so the interview would not disrupt the funfair. Maven had pulled Clara away, bristling with outrage as he learned of the plan.
“No one asked my permission!”
“Why would we need it?” Clara asked him innocently.
“This is my funfair!”
“Then, if it will make you feel better, we shall ask Clark to come with us back to O’Harris’ convalescence home for treatment.”
“No, it would not make me feel better!” Maven huffed and puffed. “Look, Clark put on an excellent show last night, a bit different from usual, a bit more… real, but no harm in that. People loved it. So really, if he is good to carry on, why does he need to be mesmerised?”