by Anne Mallory
Desmond was making inaudible gasping sounds. He was looking at the hand Christian held, tears leaking down his cheeks.
Just another twist. That’s all, his father would say.
A slim hand appeared on his sleeve. It didn’t tug or encourage. It just rested on top. Just another twist.
Christian let Desmond’s arm go with a snarl of disgust.
Desmond sank back on his heels, grasping his arm and staring at Christian with utter hatred in his tear-glazed eyes.
“Here now, what’s going on?” Mr. Wicket came bustling over to their table.
Kate rallied. “Mr. Desmond had some questions about the investigation.”
Mr. Wicket’s eyes darted nervously between Christian’s scowl and Desmond’s bowed head and clutched arm. Desmond struggled from the floor to a bench.
“Everything answered now?” the innkeeper asked.
Desmond grunted while Christian settled on a terse nod.
“Good, good. Now, Mr. Kaden, I know you no longer need to work for me since you are aiding Mr. Black, but I need your assistance to draw that map you requested earlier.”
Kate nodded and lifted her hand from Christian’s sleeve. She gave him a searching glance, and Christian returned a careless grin. They were always easiest when he was angry.
She frowned. “Perhaps you would like to accompany us, Mr. Black?”
Christian looked at Desmond’s bowed head. “An excellent idea, do excuse us, Desmond.” He patted him on the head as he passed.
Kate frowned more sharply as she turned and followed the innkeeper.
But really, what did she expect from him? Desmond was a maggot.
Once they were in Wicket’s office the man drew a rough sketch of the first-floor rooms where the guests were lodged.
“And the guests’ names?”
Wicket nodded and began to pen in the names. The common room stretched across the entire south end of the structure, and Christian could picture someone chasing Janson through the room with a bat in hand. Continuing along the west corridor were rooms occupied by Nickford, Tiegs, and Freewater, two of which they had searched the previous day. Christian mentally checked them off while trying to figure out how to search Freewater’s room again without raising undue suspicion. He had been gleeful at first when Freewater had reacted as if he had lost the journal, but if it hadn’t been on his person, then where would it be? The blasted thing had to be in his room somewhere.
Wicket penned in Black and Kaden in the first full north-facing room, and Lake’s name into the adjacent room to the east. The Crescents’ name was written on the north- and eastern-facing room, the largest in the inn, and the first of the gallery-accessible rooms. Other than the thought that Freewater could have passed the journal to Crescent, their room had held little interest, just like the couple themselves.
Christian would bet their lovemaking—no, copulation sessions—never lasted beyond five minutes, and never took place without the lights being fully extinguished. Of course, they would skip nights with full moons. Imagine the horror.
He caught Kate looking at him peculiarly and realized he had been grinning—a real grin. He quickly replaced it with a lazy smile. With brows drawn together, she turned from him. He momentarily regretted his action, then stiffened. No, he wasn’t going to regret anything. He didn’t need to pass some kind of acceptability test for anyone anymore.
She smiled at Mr. Wicket as he asked a question. Her eyes crinkled in the corners and her mouth quirked a bit to the left. He wanted that smile aimed at him. He wanted her to look at him as she had last night before they went to sleep. With a genuine smile, her eyes lit from within.
Damn it. Damn it! He didn’t want to rely on anyone else’s good opinion. He had long since stamped out the need for approval. He had, damn it.
“Mr. Black?”
“What?” His tone was a bit sharper than he intended, and Mr. Wicket looked unsure for a moment.
“I was just telling Mr. Kaden about the improvements to the gallery. Did you hear me?”
“Yes, of course I did. Please continue.”
He had no idea what they had been talking about, but he tried to concentrate as the innkeeper drew Desmond’s south-facing room as the L-shaped inn curved clockwise around the staircase to Olivia and Francine’s room. Christian tried not to notice the small lock of hair that peeked out from under Kate’s cap when she tilted her head just so.
The innkeeper grew more agitated as he labeled Julius Janson’s room, connecting it back to the common room, both having gallery access.
Kate’s head tilted back as a ray of sun pierced through the window and hit her cheek, caressing the rose and cream skin. One bright ray in an otherwise cloudy and stormy day.
Her mouth was moving. Perfect rosebuds. How was she fooling anyone with this masquerade as a boy?
He shook himself as he realized the innkeeper and Kate had continued the conversation while he had been daydreaming like an infatuated fool. Bloody hell. Might as well call him Lawrence Lake and be done with it.
“What about the ground floor and workers’ quarters?” Kate asked.
Mr. Wicket looked at her oddly, but sketched out both the ground floor and second floor. Christian examined the drawing of the servants’ quarters with interest, thankful to be looking at anything other than Kate. It was a square floor positioned on top of the northwest section of the inn. The Wickets were located directly over the northwest portion above their room and Freewater’s. To the south of the innkeepers’ lodgings was a room in which three names were written.
“Benji, Elias, and Mr. Crescent’s valet stay here?” Christian pointed to the square on the makeshift map.
Wicket nodded. Christian traced his finger to the east of the innkeeper’s room. There were two rooms labeled. Daisy and Bess, the serving wench and cook, respectively, were listed with Mrs. Crescent’s maid, while Mary and Sally’s names were written on the easternmost room. Marks indicating a staircase were located in the southeast corner.
“And Tom and Gordon stay in the stables?” he clarified.
“Yes, usually.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wicket. This will be most useful,” Kate said, gathering up the papers.
“I only hope you two will catch the fiend who murdered Julius. He was a good man, didn’t you know?”
Christian didn’t, but he refrained from saying so.
“Such a loss. Was hoping that Mary would accept his suit. He approached me about pressing it.”
“When did he do that, Mr. Wicket?” Kate asked.
Mr. Wicket looked surprised, but answered, “The night before last, actually. Right before the taproom fight. I was going to talk to Mary about it the next day, um, yesterday.”
“Mary didn’t know?”
“I think she suspected. Shy girl, my Mary. Think she liked Julius though.” Mr. Wicket looked wistful. “Fine cricket player, Julius was, not sure what we will do without him.”
“I’m sure the team will rally in his fine memory.”
“Good bunch of men, our team. Very spirited. Julius and Donald are two of our best. Now we will lose both.”
“Both?” Kate asked and glanced at a stoic Christian. He must have forgotten to tell her about Desmond.
“Donald is taking a position in London with a barrister. Some connection through his family.”
“Maybe you should recruit Lake for your team. I hear he is a fine player as well,” Christian said smoothly. His sudden concern and identification with Lake was irritating, so he ignored it.
Mr. Wicket’s brows drew together. “Something would have to cause Mr. Lake to move from Lehigh. He is a good player. Not as talented as Julius. Or as spirited. But better than Donald. Always drives Donald something fierce.”
Kate raised her brows. “I thought the rivalry was between Janson and Lake, not Desmond and Lake.”
“Lake’s rival has always been Julius, and vice versa. Donald, as Julius’s friend, has always focused on Lake, but the
reverse hasn’t been true. Something occurred last year that really sparked the rivalry between Julius and Lake. I was hoping things would settle down for Mary’s eighteenth birthday celebration next month.”
Wicket really was blind if he didn’t understand. Mary was a pretty girl, curvy and natural. A year ago she had probably blossomed into the woman she was now. Christian shook his head.
Mr. Wicket continued on, blithely unaware. “Lake expressed interest in attending. Nice to have some crosstown interaction, even if he is on the opposing team.” Mr. Wicket chuckled at his own joke.
Christian and Kate excused themselves minutes later and headed back to the dining room. Lake was speaking earnestly to Mary. The girl was blushing. Desmond was at a table across the room with a scowl on his face.
“It all comes back to Lake, doesn’t it?” Kate muttered.
Christian shook his head as he watched Lake and Mary and noted minute gestures of affection between them, gestures he had in the past avoided like the plague. “No, it all comes back to Mary.”
Kate looked at him sharply, and he could see her mind start to churn. Before she could question him, Freewater scuttled over to them from his corner.
“I want to participate in your search of the rooms.”
“What?” Kate looked incredulous.
“I want to help you search the rooms.”
Christian narrowed his eyes as fierce triumph and irritation warred within him.
Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but that is just not—”
“Why do you want to help?”
Kate looked at Christian in shock as he abruptly cut off her explanation. He was staring at Freewater, his gaze shrewd. After hearing his contemplative thought about Mary, Kate’s mind was in turmoil. That Freewater should suddenly pop up like a child’s toy was disconcerting.
Freewater straightened importantly. “I want to help your investigation.”
“No you don’t.” Christian’s tone was moderate, as if talking about the weather.
“What do you mean, no I don’t?” Freewater blustered.
“I mean exactly what I said; you don’t want to help investigate Janson’s murder.”
“Why else would I offer to help?”
“Did you lose something, Freewater?” Christian purred. Kate stared at him. His eyes were mocking, but there was something fierce and narrow behind the mocking.
“Didn’t lose anything. There’s just nothing to do in this blasted inn while we wait to be set free.”
Christian examined his nails. “You can play cards or gossip with the others. You could hide away in your room as you did before, doing who knows what. We can’t help you, Freewater, if you don’t help us.” He continued to examine his nails, his voice idle.
Freewater clenched his lips, his face turning purple. “Fine. A journal was stolen from me.”
“Stolen?” Christian’s eyes grabbed Freewater’s. “Why would someone steal your journal?”
Freewater hesitated before answering. He seemed to be waging an internal battle. “Because the journal was valuable. Priceless.”
“Oh yes? What did the journal contain?”
“It was a private account.”
“A gentleman’s account? Why would that be valuable, or priceless, as you say?”
Freewater gritted his teeth. “The gentleman has a lot to lose should the journal fall into the wrong hands.”
“Sounds like the journal already did.” Christian’s eyes were icy, and Kate, already feeling as if she was missing something, grew more suspicious. Christian seemed to notice her reaction, even though his eyes never left Freewater’s. He gave a small negative gesture with his hand and she stayed silent.
“The journal was given to me,” Freewater sniffed.
“By the owner?”
“Yes,” he said, but Kate noticed Freewater’s left eye twitch.
“Describe it.”
“Dark brown leather, about a fingernail thick, gold embossed.”
“What name is engraved?”
“Darton.” The name was ripped from Freewater’s throat. Kate thought it sounded vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. She watched Christian’s eyes turn hard, and she had a feeling that while she might not be able to place the name, Christian certainly could.
“Hmmm…we haven’t come across a journal of that description so far, have we, Mr. Kaden?”
She shook her head.
“That is why I should be involved as well,” Freewater said.
“We can’t have you involved in the investigation, Mr. Freewater.”
“But—”
“It would compromise the entire process. It’s against Runner’s Code Section Forty-one. Firm statute, that one.”
Kate had no idea what Christian was talking about, and she thought Christian probably didn’t either. He seemed quite capable of making things up on the spot, however.
“I need that journal!”
“We will see if we can’t find your missing journal, Freewater. We will, of course, inform you, should we find it.”
Kate thought that from the look on Christian’s face and the tone of his voice that was very unlikely, but Freewater tersely nodded.
“I will pay handsomely for its safe return.”
“Excellent. That will encourage faster results.”
Freewater seemed to think that it would too, since he nodded.
He shuffled off to his dark corner and Christian smirked.
“What was that about?” she hissed.
“Why, nothing, nothing at all. We’ll attempt to find Freewater’s journal, just as I said we would.”
“But what do you know of it?”
“Tut, tut, Kate, so suspicious. I know only what you do, that Freewater lost a journal that really belongs to someone else.”
Daisy approached with a bean stew that smelled as tasty as the beef from the day before. Kate picked small slivers of the table’s wood from her nails as Daisy touched and cooed over Christian. She curled her nails into her palms instead.
After an unbearably long time in which Kate shredded her bread to crumbs and nearly cracked her bowl with the force of her spoon thrust, Daisy finally swaggered off.
Ready to deliver a scathing comment, Kate pointed her spoon at Christian, whose eyes were smoothly mocking. “I really don’t think—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?” Mr. Wicket interrupted, waving his stubby arms.
“You really don’t think?” Christian mock whispered to Kate’s half-delivered invective.
Kate glared as Mr. Wicket finally gained the attention of the room.
“I have just received an update from the men clearing the roads. Coaches and carriages may be running as early as tomorrow afternoon.” Someone gave a little cheer. “Mr. Black will be continuing his investigation, searching rooms, and speaking to each of you, so please be polite and forthcoming so you can all be on your way tomorrow.”
The little innkeeper was such a contradiction. On one hand he seemed to understand his patrons; on the other he seemed not to notice anything in his own household and village.
She glanced over to see Christian looking thoughtful and determined. They would be able to leave tomorrow, and that meant Christian Black would saunter right out of her life the same way he had sauntered in.
She swallowed.
They had the rest of the day and night and maybe tomorrow morning to discover the killer’s identity; after that, the murderer might go free. A chill went through her, followed by steely resolve. She couldn’t let that happen. This was something she could control, unlike all the other things in her life. She was finally doing something constructive. Justice could be served here, and she intended to see it happen.
Chapter 12
Keep your wits about you. Your instincts will never lead you astray.
George Simon
to Kate, age fourteen
They searched Tiegs’s room first, even though at this point they
were looking less for actual evidence, which had most likely been hidden or destroyed, and more for indicators about the people and clues to the puzzle. When Christian had told Tiegs that his room was the next they would search, the man had given them a nonchalant wave of his hand. Kate had thought it odd, as secretive as Tiegs seemed.
One of his two bruisers followed them upstairs and watched intently as they searched through Tiegs’s belongings.
With the big man standing at the door, arms crossed, hairless head gleaming in the firelight, Kate was less inclined to search than she had been at first. Christian seemed to take the behemoth’s presence in stride, even going so far as to ask if the man was nervous that they might find his lace undergarments.
The man hadn’t been amused.
“Look at this.”
Kate glanced up to see Christian holding a bat. Crossing over, she touched the bat, and could see stains on the end. They appeared to be old stains, and the wood was nicked and chipped.
“Is Mr. Tiegs a cricket player?”
The bruiser grunted.
“I’ll take that as a yes then.”
“Perhaps that was why Tiegs was talking to Lake?” Kate murmured. No use giving the bruiser information for Tiegs to use in case he was the guilty party.
“It could also explain how Janson knew him.”
“I’ll ask Mr. Wicket.”
Christian nodded.
She found a pocket watch next and showed it to Christian and whispered, “I was hoping the pocket watch we found on Janson’s body would be the one I saw that night, but I think this is the one I saw. This chain looks similar, even seeing it from a distance.”
Christian just nodded his head.
Their search turned up a small arsenal of weaponry packed in a large trunk. Three rifles, four pistols, and a sword.
Kate thought she might give Tiegs a wider berth than she already had.
The bruiser remained in the room even as Christian and Kate proceeded across the hall to Olivia and Francine’s room. Christian knocked lightly on the door.
“Oh, Mr. Black,” Olivia purred as she wrapped one delicate hand around the oak frame. “I was wondering when you would make it to my room.”