A Case of Grave Danger

by Sophie Cleverly

  ‘Hmm.’ The inspector sat back. I could almost see the cogs in his brain whirring.

  ‘But I trust Mr Veil,’ he continued. Bones pressed his nose into his palms, as if encouraging him to continue. ‘I trust Violet too. You should believe her when she says her pa is innocent.’

  The inspector’s frown deepened, and he stood up. ‘Look, children, I sympathise, I really do. I want the right man – or woman – to pay for this. And perhaps you have the right idea. But you must understand this. You are no detectives. The word of a shoeshine boy and the undertaker’s daughter means nothing to the judge. In the eyes of the law, you are no one.’

  I felt tears suddenly prickling my eyes at his sharp words.

  ‘We will prove you wrong,’ I said, through clenched teeth. Bones turned and began to lick at my hands as they balled into fists, but I gently pushed him away.

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps you will. You two wait here, and I will have my men take you and your mutt back to the station. I have a job to do, child. And only twenty-four hours left to do it before your father goes on trial.’ He reached down for his pipe and pocketed it.

  ‘What?’ I gasped. The world fell out from under me. Did Mother know about this? Why hadn’t she told me that we only had twenty-four hours left to save him? Perhaps she couldn’t face it. I felt sick.

  The inspector looked down at me, no trace of his supposed sympathy in his cold expression. ‘Your father goes on trial tomorrow,’ he repeated. ‘We have more than enough evidence against him. I am just tying up loose ends.’

  ‘No,’ I whispered, staring at the ground. Oliver gripped my hand and Bones curled around my legs.

  ‘Please, sir,’ Oliver begged. ‘Listen to us! It’s not him! He saved my life. What else can we do?’

  ‘You can come to me with a written confession and the real murderer clapped in irons,’ Inspector Holbrook said. He looked both ways and then stepped out into the street. ‘Or you can accept that your father will die, and justice has been done.’

  I would not accept it.

  I brushed away furious tears as we once again sat in the back of the police carriage, Bones at my feet. It bumped and rattled over the cobbles, the wheels creaking ominously. Constable Williams sat on the bench opposite us, glaring. The inspector had been kind enough to confirm our suspicions that the victims were members of the club, but then had us unceremoniously taken away.

  My father, I thought. My intelligent, caring, wise, frustrating, bad-tempered father. He wasn’t perfect, but he was ours. He loved me. He loved Thomas and Mother. He looked death in its face every day of his life, bearing the weight of it without giving up. In less than a day he would go on trial, and then he would have to face his own death.

  I hated to think about it. It made my stomach churn and my skin sweat. This was no justice. Miss Stone was guilty, I felt sure of it, but what Inspector Holbrook was asking of us was impossible. Miss Stone had hidden every trace of evidence, even the files about the murder victims. She wasn’t about to lie down and give us a … a written confession.

  My eyes flicked up from the floor of the carriage, where Oliver had laid the heavy hammer, to the black wall opposite.

  What if … what if she had already written a confession? Inside a certain tattered deep red notebook?

  My heart began to race. Bones’s ears twitched and he looked up at me.

  What if we had a dog with an incredible nose who could steal it?

  What if we could lure her out? Somewhere she wouldn’t have the upper hand?

  What if my father doesn’t have to die?

  Oliver was sombre and quiet after we were booted out at the police station. Constable Williams had simply ordered us to go home, the only words he had spoken to us, followed by ‘go away’. I think I had preferred catching the Necropolis train with the dead. They were better company.

  Bones, on the other hand, was walking with a spring in his step. I think he could sense something different about me. The spark of hope was kindling once again in my chest.

  The chill wind blew in our faces and whipped at my skirts. A discarded newspaper fluttered past in the gutter.

  MURDER TRIAL BEGINS TOMORROW

  ALL WILL BE OVER FOR UNDERTAKER

  ACCUSED OF SENDING VICTIMS TO EARLY GRAVES

  I gritted my teeth.

  Oliver must have seen my expression.

  ‘I’m sorry, miss,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I replied, as we walked through a group of men in suits who were hurrying to get home. The clouds were grey and it felt like a storm was brewing. Oliver looked back at me, confused. ‘No, I don’t think it will be over.’

  ‘Do you know something I don’t?’

  ‘I have an idea,’ I said. ‘Maybe. Perhaps it’s lunacy. But it could work. If we … if we even have time.’ I swallowed nervously.

  Bones started circling me, the way he did when I had a treat for him. Perhaps he thought I was on to something.

  ‘What is it?’ Oliver asked, his voice tinged with both excitement and fear. ‘What do we need to do?’

  I looked up at the darkening clouds. There wasn’t much left of the daylight, which could be a disadvantage or …

  Perhaps not.

  ‘We need to build a web, and trap the Black Widow,’ I said.

  e ran home.

  As I unlocked the shop door, I was met by the sight of Mother in tears.

  She was sitting at Father’s desk, and she lifted her head as we came in. ‘Where. Have. You. Been.’ Her voice rattled as though it were tired from sobbing.

  Oliver and I stopped still in the entranceway. Bones, however, bolted over to her and put his nose in her lap. She pushed him away. Her eyes stayed locked on me.

  ‘Investigating,’ I said. ‘Like you told me to! But Mother, listen, we have a plan—’

  Maddy came hurrying in and put her arm round Mother. ‘Miss Violet! You’ve been gone so long. We were worried sick. And then we got a telegram saying you were at the police station …’

  ‘They just sent us home,’ Oliver said apologetically.

  Mother got to her feet, making Maddy drop her arm. ‘None of this is the point! I had to force Thomas to tell me that you’d gone!’

  I noticed Thomas peering round the door and fought the urge to glare at him. Sorry, he mouthed.

  My mother’s face was etched with sadness and disappointment as she shook her head at me. I could understand that she was worried, but what we’d found out was so much more important.

  ‘We’ve been investigating!’ I said. ‘Look, it’s Miss Stone, it has to be! We’ve spoken to Inspector Holbrook and he doesn’t believe us, but all the evidence—’

  ‘I said you could investigate,’ Mother snapped back. ‘I didn’t say you could go running off without telling me!’

  ‘Just like you didn’t tell me that Father is being put on trial tomorrow!’

  Maddy gasped.

  Oliver’s cheeks flushed red.

  Mother went stony silent.

  ‘Is that true?’ came a small voice from the doorway. It was Thomas. ‘Father’s going on trial? Is he going to jail?’

  ‘Come on, young master Thomas,’ Maddy said, ushering him away with a frown towards me. ‘Let’s go back to the kitchen.’ Bones sloped after them.

  ‘But …’ My little brother’s protests trailed off as she pulled him down the corridor.

  I turned back to Mother, my arms folded. The tables had been turned.

  ‘I was only recently made aware,’ she said in a flat tone. ‘I didn’t know how to tell you.’

  ‘How about “Violet, your father will be in court tomorrow”?’ I said. I was being insolent, I knew, but I couldn’t stop myself. ‘We don’t have time for this! I’m telling you, we can save him! But we need to try this right now!’

  Mother’s eyes stared back at me, sunken and tired. Her brow was narrowed, her hair untidy. ‘Violet,’ she said. ‘You need to start doing as you’re told.’

  To my surprise, Oli
ver peered out from behind my back. ‘Um, you did tell her to investigate, ma’am. An’ – I think she’s right. We have an idea. It might save Mr Veil.’

  Mother sighed while I looked at him in surprise. ‘I’m not your mother, Oliver. But you do live under my roof. I think the time for investigating is over. You said you’ve told your suspicions about Miss Stone to Inspector Holbrook and he did nothing. So it’s over. I need both of you to be home safe.’ She wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye with a black glove.

  ‘I don’t think it’s over, ma’am!’ Oliver said, his cheeks flushing even redder. I felt a rush of pride that he was speaking up like this, just as he had done with the inspector. I’d been expecting him to try and talk me out of it, as he always had done. ‘We can catch this governess before it’s too late.’

  ‘It is too late!’ Mother cried.

  We both flinched. Bones barked and came running back, his nails skittering on the wooden floor. He skidded to a halt in front of me, ready to come to my defence.

  My mother’s chest was heaving. ‘It’s tomorrow, Violet. We can’t stop this now. We can’t. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Mother, I—’

  ‘No! I will have no more of this! Go to your room!’ she said, her voice cracking.

  My skin felt hot, my fists clenched. The air was heavy with the moment. This was a crossroads, I knew. One path was clear and easy: I could listen to my mother, do as I was told. We’d stay safe and cosy in our beds, but Father would almost certainly be sent to the scaffold. The other path: dark and thorny and tangled. It was dangerous. We would be pitting ourselves face to face against the Black Widow. But it could save Father.

  When had I ever chosen the easy path?

  ‘Come on, Oliver,’ I snapped. ‘We’re leaving.’

  I headed towards the back of the room, to the door that led into the hallway. Bones and Oliver trailed after me reluctantly.

  Mother’s nostrils flared. ‘Violet Victoria Veil,’ she said, in a tone of voice I’d never heard her use before. ‘If you leave this house, I will not let you back in again.’

  We locked eyes.

  And then, without another word, I left.

  I gathered my skirts, and I ran again.

  This time, out of the house, out into the yard, through the gate and out into the cemetery. I was vaguely aware of Bones alongside me, of him overtaking and leaping through the stones. I could hear Oliver panting as he followed.

  The wind whipped at my hair, swept the tears from my cheeks. This was no time to worry, to be sad.

  ‘Violet! Slow down! This hammer is heavy!’

  My legs stumbled and I found myself clutching a chest tomb in a bid to stay upright. Bones circled and came back to me. My breaths rattled in my chest.

  Oliver caught up with me and dropped the hammer in the grass. ‘Are you all right?’

  I turned to him, a realisation slowly dawning. ‘You didn’t call me miss,’ I said.

  He took his hat off and rubbed his head self-consciously. ‘Sorry,’ he replied.

  ‘No! Don’t apologise!’ I insisted. ‘Oliver, your confidence is growing. And we’re going to need it. This plan is pure madness.’

  He adjusted his hat again, pulling it down to stop the wind catching it. ‘I think I might be mad as well, following you like this. But I think it just might work.’ He shrugged.

  I looked around the darkening cemetery to get my bearings. We were close to the exit, so we could head out to Ashes Lane. I prayed Mother wasn’t coming after us. Perhaps she’d never forgive me for this – but I knew, somewhere deep in my heart, that it had to be done. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s stow the hammer away, and then we’ll send Bones on his mission.’

  Not long later, we stood shivering at the back of the houses in Ashes Lane, behind the fence that Oliver had jumped.

  ‘All right,’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘We just have to pray she hasn’t locked her back door.’

  Oliver was bouncing up and down on his toes, which probably was rather conspicuous – though he would be hard to see out of the tiny, blackened windows anyway.

  I turned to Bones and pulled out the diary page. I held it down for him to sniff, which he did inquisitively. ‘Remember this, boy? Can you find it again?’

  Bones cocked his head to one side. I had to hope that was a yes. If Bones wasn’t as intelligent as I thought, our plan could go very wrong. I tried not to think about it as I patted him on the head and scratched his ears.

  ‘Are you ready?’ I asked Oliver. The large amount of bouncing and shuffling he was doing led me to believe he was very nervous, but he clearly didn’t want to let on. He nodded and blew on his hands. ‘Let’s go.’

  He scrambled over the fence, while I pressed myself back against the rough splintered wood and cursed my long skirts that got in the way of such things. I didn’t want to risk getting stuck again. Bones circled back and took a flying leap over into the backyard.

  There was a click in the growing darkness. Had Oliver done it? Opened the door? I bit my lip and braced myself, ready to run.

  I held my breath.

  A few scuffling sounds came from behind me. ‘No!’ someone shouted.

  Oliver jumped the fence and landed with a heavy thud. ‘Run!’ he cried.

  My legs were ahead of my mind. Skirts in hand, I began to run.

  Then I heard barking and shouting, and like an arrow, Bones came flying past with something in his mouth. Was it the diary? It was too dark to say, and he too fast. Bones was a shadow racing through the streets. The air was thick with smoke from the home fires burning as people huddled indoors to keep warm.

  ‘She’s following us!’ Oliver panted.

  I whipped my head back. Sure enough, there was Miss Stone, feet pounding on the pavement as she pursued us and what might just be the key to saving my father’s life.

  iss Stone was surprisingly fast, but we were faster.

  We dodged the few people that remained in the streets. A horse reared and whinnied up ahead as Bones ducked under its legs. He was far ahead, but I knew he knew where to go. The cemetery. Home. Safety.

  The wind blew and a fine mist of rain fell, making the pavement slick, but we couldn’t stop. The Black Widow was behind us. She knew where we were going too.

  I was counting on it.

  I prayed silently that my feet would stay firm. We dodged leaves and debris and market stalls being put away. Loud shouts followed us. Causing a scene, as Mother would say.

  It wasn’t long before I saw the familiar high walls and gates of the cemetery up ahead. We skidded past the funeral chapels, past Alfred who was bent over in the shed with his back to us – no doubt about to lock up for the night. No use shouting for help there.

  It was uphill, now. My breaths were ragged and gasping as we followed the path through the gravestones. There was no sign of Bones now. I could hear the footfalls of Miss Stone approaching. She was closing in.

  With a desperate glance at Oliver, I whispered: ‘Here!’

  We stopped at the fork in the path, by the familiar tomb of the Hamiltons. Oliver dived behind a tree, and out of sight. I crouched down, breathless now.

  Danger, the voices seemed to whisper with the rustling of the leaves. She’s coming …

  Miss Stone’s footsteps slowed, and I could just make her out now – both of us wearing black as night crept in on the autumn day. I watched as she lowered her own skirts to the ground and began walking slowly, purposefully towards me. A lump stuck in my throat.

  ‘Miss Veil,’ she called from the path. ‘What a surprise.’

  ‘Enough games, Miss Stone,’ I panted back. ‘I know what you are!’

  She tipped her head to one side. ‘And what is that?’

  ‘A murderer!’ I shouted. ‘You killed those four men, didn’t you! And you nearly killed my friend, just because he almost ruined your game!’

  She stopped and pushed the lace coverin
g from her face. Her piercing eyes stared back at me, until finally she spoke in an ice-cold voice. ‘It wasn’t a game, Miss Veil. It was necessary.’

  Disbelief washed over me. ‘How can you say that? You killed people!’

  Now she raised her hands. ‘The dead feel nothing. Their lives mean nothing any longer. Do you think these men did the world good when they were alive?’ She shook her head sadly. ‘They were cruel. They beat their servants and their wives, who confessed everything to me. They saw no problem with turning people out on to the streets.’

  A chill ran through me, but I soon realised it wasn’t her words – but the ghosts around me, a frisson of their anger. The wind whipped up and my hair stood on end. I swallowed, and took a step back. ‘Perhaps so, but that doesn’t give you the right to decide that they should die. To decide that my father should die for these crimes he didn’t commit! This was all about him, wasn’t it?’

  She frowned at me, a crack in her mask. ‘You broke into my house. You stole my diary. I knew more pages were missing. Yet you preach your morals at me.’ She sneered.

  I wondered for a moment why she had said more pages, and then I remembered the first entry we had found – the one she had accidentally dropped when she was handing out the accusations. ‘You said someone took the sunshine from you. You blame my father for everything, don’t you? What was your sunshine?’

  She carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘The men of this world think they can treat our hearts without care. They break them and crush them.’ She drove her fist into an open palm. I felt my skin crawl, seeing her cold white hands and knowing what she had done with them. ‘Whether servants or lovers or –’ the briefest flicker of a pause – ‘daughters. I couldn’t let that continue.’

  I felt shivers go down my spine. This was important. She’d let her guard slip just for a moment, and suddenly I understood even more.

  You knew a love like the light of the sun, as I did.

  Something that my father and Miss Stone could both understand. Having a child – having a daughter.

  ‘That photograph of a girl on your mantelpiece. It wasn’t you, was it? You have a daughter. Her name is Emily Stone too.’