An Inquiry Into Love and Death

by Simone St. James

  I felt different, and yet the same. My body certainly felt different, a change I noticed as I walked. My chest and legs still hurt from the fire, and my palms were raw. There were aches from last night that were a mixture of pain and pleasure, as well. And yet whoever had tried to kill me yesterday, whoever had killed Toby, had not been stopped. I kept my wits about me, my guard up.

  The threatened rain had not arrived yet, but the air was wet and close, the wind an unseasonably warm breath. I watched the treetops move, the dying leaves flashing, listened to my footsteps on the damp earth of the lane, and thought, I was born here. I’d always thought I was a London girl, but I’d never felt the affinity for that place—or anyplace—that I felt for this one. I wondered where Elizabeth had lived after she married the butcher. Mrs. Trowbridge would know, if I had the courage to ask her.

  A motorcar was pulled up in front of William’s house, and two men were alighting from it: Drew Merriken and Teddy Easterbrook. They noticed me as I came up the lane.

  “Good morning.” Inspector Easterbrook was the first to greet me. “What brings you here, Miss Leigh?”

  I found I was staring at Drew, and made an effort to look away. “William’s—Mr. Moorcock’s—dog wandered into my garden this morning. He must have gotten loose. I’m returning him.”

  “Can it wait? We have a few questions for him ourselves. In fact—”

  “Teddy.” This was Drew. Easterbrook turned to his partner, his brows drawing down, but when he followed the direction of Drew’s unwavering gaze, he stopped.

  I looked as well. The front door of William’s house was standing open, showing the tidy and empty front hallway. There was no sign of William himself.

  The three of us were still for only a second, staring at the open front door. Something about it gave me an uncanny feeling. It seemed out of place, as if it had been jarred loose. The two detectives felt the same, for I saw them exchange a glance.

  Drew turned to me. “Stay here. And hold on to that dog. Teddy, around to the back if you would.”

  “Right.” The two men moved up the walk to the house, Easterbrook disappearing around the side of the house, Drew’s taller bulk taking the front door. I heard Drew knock on the open panel, heard him call out; then he disappeared inside.

  I stood in the street, my heart beating in my throat. Poseidon gave a low moan and sat at my feet between my ankles, pressing close to me. He didn’t look at the door of his master’s house, but off down the street toward Rothewell, his gaze focused on the distance.

  It seemed an age that I stood there, wondering what was wrong. Finally Drew reappeared at the front door and motioned toward me. I nudged Poseidon with my foot and came up the walk toward Drew.

  “Nothing,” he said in a low voice as I approached. “And I mean nothing. There’s no one here. Do you know where he might have gone?”

  I shook my head. “I thought it strange that the dog got out, but I assumed it was just a mistake.”

  “Well, the back door was wide open as well, and he isn’t here.”

  I followed him into the house, silently agreeing. Not a thing was out of place. Freshly watered flowers stood in a vase by the front window, and a handmade quilt lay perfectly folded across the back of the sofa. The curtains blew in the wind that came through the open doors.

  I moved back toward the kitchen. The dog wouldn’t follow me, but instead stood on the front stoop, his tail lowered and moving back and forth apologetically. Eventually he sat just outside the door, and I had to leave him.

  The kitchen was as neat as the rest of the house. Drew was standing at the back door, looking out at the garden. The teacups had been put away, the kettle cold and tidy on the unlit stove. The only dish to be seen was the empty pie plate from the last of Annie’s pie, scrubbed clean and dried, left in the middle of the counter.

  I was staring at the pie plate, which for some reason made me even more uneasy, when Teddy Easterbrook came back into the room. “Definitely nothing,” he said, his voice breezy. “I thought for a minute we’d get a nasty shock, and I even checked the closets. If he’s done for himself, I don’t smell anything, do you?”

  “For God’s sake, Teddy,” said Drew.

  Teddy glanced at me. “I apologize. I can be a bit blunt. It comes with police work sometimes. It looks like all his clothes and things are in the bedroom, so he can’t have gone far. Perhaps he just went to the store.”

  “And let the dog free and left both his doors open?” I said.

  He glanced at me again, this time with just a little annoyance. “It’s a little odd, I’ll grant, but I hear he had a fever. Perhaps he’s ill.”

  Drew looked at Teddy, a flicker of apprehension in his gaze. “Do we know where Aubrey Thorne is this morning?”

  “You think he knows something about this?” said Easterbrook.

  “I have no idea.”

  I thought of what I’d seen the other night, of Aubrey Thorne coming out of this house, of the two men debating. Was it possible their disagreement had escalated? If what Drew had said about the smuggling in the cove was true, there could be a lot of money at stake. Would it be enough to boil over, if the two men couldn’t agree?

  “It seems to me, then,” Easterbrook was saying, “that the vicarage is our next stop.”

  “Agreed. I’ll follow you out directly.”

  Easterbrook paused at that and looked from Drew to me. I tried to appear casual and not to flush; Drew simply shot his partner a look that would have sent any other man hurrying from the room. I felt all of our careful precautions go up in smoke at the smirk on Teddy Easterbrook’s lips.

  “Right, then,” he said slowly. “I’ll just be out front.”

  “That was hardly discreet,” I said to Drew once Teddy had closed the door. “What possessed you?”

  But now Drew had turned his gaze on me. He was well dressed and clean shaven, but I thought I could detect tiredness in his eyes. Still, the way he looked at me made me blush with memories of the night before. “I don’t give a damn,” he said at last. “It’s too important.”

  “What is?”

  “We’ve had some more information. The deal we’re expecting is going to happen tomorrow night, in Blood Moon Bay.”

  My mouth dried. “The deal for the mystery item you can’t tell me about.”

  “Yes. I want you gone by tomorrow morning, out of here to safety. I don’t want you anywhere near here.”

  He was worried—I could see it. My girlish ideas evaporated.

  “All right,” I said.

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Yes.” In fact, I did. “I don’t have much desire to get myself in the cross fire of some ugly, illicit deal. I’ll get out of the way and let the rest of you do the work. I only wish I knew what Toby had seen, so I could help you. And now I wish I knew where William is. I hope he hasn’t been hurt.”

  “Why? The last time you saw him, you were so afraid that you hid behind his garden wall.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want him harmed. He’s kind, and a little lonely.” I glanced down at the pie plate again, the treat baked by his sister that he had so enjoyed. My brother is easily upset. It’s just merciful that he doesn’t remember. “If he’s done something foolish, then he deserves the weight of the law, but he doesn’t deserve worse than that.”

  “You’ve been crying,” he said.

  I laughed a little. “I’ve had something of a morning.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I looked at him, and all I wanted was to go toward him, to lay my cheek against him—on the woolen lapel of his coat, perhaps, feeling the warm strength beneath the scratchy fabric. I wanted to tell him all of my burdens, laying them out one by one, letting him take them from me.

  It wouldn’t happen that way. Drew Merriken didn’t make those kinds of connections—not with an
yone. Teddy Easterbrook was outside waiting, and there was dangerous work to do.

  But he had asked, for the second time, for me to tell him. And suddenly I wanted him to know. I wanted him to be the first person I shared this with, even if it meant I was sentimental and foolish.

  I took Toby’s letter from my pocket, approached Drew across the kitchen, and lifted the lapel of his coat. I slid the letter into his pocket, letting my fingers linger slowly on the warmth of his body just for a moment. Then I pulled away.

  “Read that,” I said, “when you have a moment.”

  Surprise flickered across his face, but he nodded. “We have to go.”

  “Whatever happened to William,” I said, “he went out the front door and down the road toward Rothewell.”

  His brows lifted. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Poseidon is his dog, and Poseidon is sitting at the front door, looking down the road. It’s the last place he saw his master, and he’s waiting for him to come back.”

  “Infernal intelligence,” he said, and for the first time his voice softened a little. “It strikes again. Teddy and I are leaving Rothewell within the hour. We need to make it look like Scotland Yard has cleared out and gone home. But we won’t be far; we’ll be nearby, getting everything together for tomorrow night.”

  I followed him to the front door. As we came down the front steps, Rachel Moorcock appeared. She was riding a large bicycle, her long legs pumping under her skirt, her low heels jammed awkwardly in the pedals. Her grip on the bars had her hands nearly white, and wild, sweaty locks of hair stuck to her neck.

  She stopped the bicycle. She looked directly at me and ignored Scotland Yard. “It’s my father,” she said. “I’m worried about him.”

  I took a step toward her. “Has something happened?”

  “He’s upset.” Her face was red and her breath drew deep. “I haven’t been able to calm him down. It started when he first saw you. He wants to talk to you again.”

  I could feel both inspectors watching me. “Me?”

  “You.” She shrugged quickly. “That girl he thinks you are. He keeps talking about his fishing boat, and something terrible he thinks he’s done, but it doesn’t make much sense. He’s particularly bad this morning. He won’t eat. I’m worried.”

  “I’ll come, then.” I looked at Drew and Teddy. “Would you mind giving me a ride into town? My motorcar is . . . indisposed.”

  “Yes,” said Drew. He had regained his aloofness, though Teddy Easterbrook was avidly curious. “Of course.”

  “Wait.” I turned back to Rachel. “You’re all alone down there. Did you leave Sam and your father on their own?”

  She shook her head. “It’s all right. I left them with the vicar.”

  Alone with Aubrey Thorne. And William’s strangely empty house sitting open behind me. I turned and saw an expression on the inspectors’ faces that must have mirrored my own.

  “What?” said Rachel to the three of us. “What is it?”

  “We’ll meet you down there,” said Drew. “Let’s go.”

  Thirty

  We drove as fast as we could down the hairpin turns into Rothewell, with Drew in the driver’s seat, but still Rachel beat us. She must have pedaled like the devil to have arrived so fast, spinning downhill at breakneck speed. She was flushed and windblown as she led us to the back of the store and opened the door.

  “I’ve put up the Closed sign,” she said. “I haven’t been able to deal with customers this morning.”

  It was quiet inside. I didn’t hear George York raving, or calling, or making any sound at all. Teddy touched Rachel’s arm as she headed down the hall. “Please,” he said softly. “Let us go first.”

  She looked at him in confusion and fear, but stepped aside. She motioned to the door to her father’s room and watched them enter. I moved next to her.

  “Thorne?” said Drew as he approached the door. “Are you there?”

  There was a pause, then a low voice. “Yes. Come in.”

  The two inspectors exchanged a look of some kind of wordless readiness, and Drew opened the door.

  Nothing happened. I heard no excitement, no raised voices. I followed and looked into the room.

  George York lay on the bed, as he’d been the last time I saw him. His eyes were closed, and he had one hand folded neatly across his chest. The other hand was held between the large, long-fingered hands of Aubrey Thorne, who was sitting in a bedside chair, looking up at us. I stared at George for a long moment. He looks dead, I thought.

  “Well, well,” said Aubrey, and his voice was tired. “Scotland Yard is here.”

  “Papa!” Rachel pushed between us and ran into the room. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”

  My heart fell; then George turned his head as she touched his forehead and opened his eyes. “Dear girl,” he said fondly.

  “What’s gone on?” Rachel looked up at the vicar. “What happened? Where’s Sam?”

  Aubrey looked at her, and his expression was utterly unreadable. “I’ve been sitting with your father, as you asked,” he said. “He’s calmed down.”

  “He was beside himself when I left!” Worry made her voice shrill, almost accusing. “What did you do?”

  “Rachel, my dove,” said her father. “This is the vicar. Do you know him?”

  She looked down at him, making an effort to gentle her voice. “Yes, Papa. How are you feeling?”

  “The vicar has saved me from Walking John.”

  For a second we were all stunned, taking this in. “Papa?” said Rachel.

  “He saved me. Walking John came for me. But the vicar . . .” He smiled, his lips stretched painfully across his teeth. “He saved me. It’s all right now.”

  “Thorne,” said Drew. “What happened?”

  Rachel’s voice cracked. “Where is Sam?”

  Aubrey looked at us, and for a moment I thought he was going to tell us that Walking John had really come into the old storeroom, right there in daylight, and tried to take the old fisherman from his bed. Instead he put a hand on his forehead, rubbing slowly. I noticed his eyes were sunken with worry, dark circles beneath them. “Nothing,” he said softly, and seemingly with effort. “Nothing happened. George thought . . . he thought Walking John was here. I told him I’d made the ghost go away. A little fiction, that’s all. I sent Sam to see Mrs. Trowbridge at the post office.”

  “It was wonderful,” said George. “You should have seen him go.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” said Drew.

  “There’s nothing to explain,” said Aubrey. He pitched his voice lower. “George was agitated. His mind wanders. He thought he’d seen Walking John coming for him. It was the only way I could think of to calm him.”

  “And you sent the boy off down the street,” Easterbrook added.

  For a second, fear flashed in Aubrey’s eyes. “I didn’t think Sam should see his grandfather like this, that’s all. I thought it would be better if he left. Mary Trowbridge will take good care of him, I’m sure.”

  Rachel pressed her father’s knobbed old hand. “Well, thank you,” she said to Aubrey, still unsure. “Though I’ll have to get Sam back. I don’t like to impose on the neighbors. Sam is used to seeing Papa like this, anyway. Whatever happened, you seem to have calmed Papa.”

  “Elizabeth!”

  George had caught sight of me. Everyone looked at me.

  “Come!” said George, motioning to me. He tried to sit up in the bed, but he was so frail, the motion was almost pitiful. “Come! Rachel, it’s all right. Send the vicar home. Elizabeth will take care of me now.”

  He was agitated again, and I regretted having come into the room. I wanted to protest, but it seemed that would only excite him further, so I stepped forward. Aubrey stood, and I mo
ved into his place. I sat down and took George’s thin hand in my own. “Ah,” I said. “Hello.”

  “I have much to tell you,” he said, leaning toward me.

  I patted his hand, unsure what to say, and he leaned back in his pillows. I felt everyone’s gaze on me. No one in the room knew that the girl I’d been mistaken for was my mother. It must have seemed utterly inexplicable to them, but there was nothing for it. I patted the old man’s hand again.

  Aubrey moved to the door, but didn’t yet leave. Instead, he said to me, “Miss Leigh, I must apologize.”

  I raised my eyes reluctantly to his. A rush of cold, tingling numbness came over me that I recognized as fear. It was instinctive, born of how close I’d come to death only yesterday, and it had nothing to do with the pain I saw in his face.

  “I never had a chance to say how sorry I am about the fire,” he said.

  I made an effort to speak without screaming. He can’t hurt you, not with two policemen here. “I’m sorry you lost your archives.”

  “It was just paper,” he said softly.

  I couldn’t look at him anymore. If he knew who had locked me in that room—or if he had done it himself—he said nothing. He showed no guilt, no innocence. I turned away.

  I heard him leave the room, and the inspectors followed. I looked down into my lap.

  Rachel adjusted her father’s pillows. He seemed to have melted back into the bed now, his bones nearly sinking into the mattress. I surmised I wouldn’t have to sit here very long before he drifted off to sleep.

  “I don’t suppose you know what that was about,” said Rachel. “What do a couple of police inspectors want with Aubrey Thorne?”

  I tried to think of what to say. “William Moorcock seems to have disappeared.”

  She straightened and looked at me in shock. “Disappeared?”

  “His house was found empty, the doors open, and his dog let go.” I had put Poseidon back in the house before we left, though he had been reluctant. “Have you seen him?”