by C. J. Archer
"The thing is, Mr. Hardacre is saying it's all a lie and he was in fact here looking for a man who killed his father, Wilson Sweet."
"His father or his uncle?" I said, rather devilishly.
Brockwell raised his brows. "Father, I believe. What does his uncle have to do with anything?"
I handed him a teacup and saucer. "You ought to ask him that. Or his mother."
"So you deny that Gideon Steele, also known as Chronos and perhaps William Wordsworth, lives here?"
"He did," Matt said, "but we did not know his connection to any murder until Mr. Hardacre accused him last night. I wouldn't believe him if I were you, sir. He's a liar."
"It's not just him. Mr. Abercrombie accuses Miss Steele's grandfather of murder too. Are you saying a pillar of the community is also lying?"
"The only thing Abercrombie is a pillar of is his own over-inflated self-worth. Whether Mr. Steele is guilty of any crime is open for debate, but the point is, he's not here and we don't know where he is."
Brockwell looked to me. "Did he leave you a departing message?"
"Yes."
"May I see it?"
"No, you may not."
He sipped. Naturally it took longer than an ordinary sip. Naturally it made my blood boil listening to him slurp.
"Matt is correct," I said crisply. "We don't know where my grandfather went and I say good riddance. He brought nothing but trouble to our door. We've had enough excitement. We only wish to live quiet lives now."
Brockwell considered this with a tilt of his head to the side. "Why did you lie at the hospital and say the man you collected was named William Wordsworth?"
"Because Abercrombie and Hardacre would have hounded Mr. Steele if they learned he was here," Matt said. "It was easier to lie than to face them. The thing is, Inspector, both those men want revenge upon India and her family. They cannot be trusted. They'll accuse Mr. Steele of anything if it means upsetting her."
Brockwell set his teacup and saucer on the table. "Thank you for the tea."
He was leaving already? He believed us? I glanced at Matt but he did not look my way.
Brockwell got to his feet and looked around. "Where is your rug?"
"Pardon?" I blurted out.
"Last time I was here there was a carpet on the floor. It's gone."
"I spilled tea on it," Matt said. "The housekeeper took it away to clean it."
"And the bullet?"
Oh hell. He knew. Eddie must have told him he'd fired his weapon. But had he told Brockwell that the bullet hit Matt? I stared into my teacup, not daring to look at Brockwell for fear of giving myself away.
"What bullet?" Matt asked.
"Hardacre claims he shot you."
Matt stood and stretched his arms out. "As you can see, I haven't been shot. Hardacre is madder than we thought if he says that."
"He says the bullet injured you but you recovered thanks to your magic watch."
Matt chuckled. "He's been reading that article. It seems everyone in London is obsessed with the notion of magic lately. I can assure you, Inspector, no magic was performed here last night. Don't you think if magic could cure bullet wounds the world would have known about it before now?"
"I would have thought so." Brockwell didn't so much as smile. He didn't find the thought amusing or absurd.
"Do you believe in magic, Inspector?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"No, Miss Steele, I do not."
"I didn't think so. I may not be all that good at judging character but I had you pegged as a very practical minded man who needed solid evidence presented before he believed the fantastic."
Of all things, that coaxed a smile from him. "Thank you, Miss Steele. That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."
"Certainly," Matt said, indicating Brockwell should walk ahead of him. "What will happen to Hardacre now?"
"He'll go to trial but his crime is not a capital offence. He'll serve time in jail. It's likely you'll be called as witnesses."
"Of course."
Brockwell accepted his hat from Peter at the door. "Mind you, be careful now, sir, miss. You two seem to attract more than your fair share of dangerous activity." He nodded in farewell and headed out the door into the rain.
I quickly turned to go, determined to avoid Matt. I did not succeed.
"India!" he called.
"I have to see to Miss Glass," I said from the staircase. "She requested I go for a walk with her."
"It's raining."
"Then we'll play cards."
I suddenly found him alongside me on the staircase. "You can't avoid me forever," he said quietly. When I didn't respond, he added, "I will find out why you won't accept me. I can read you like a book. It's only a matter of time before I reach the last page and all is revealed."
I lifted my skirts and ran up the stairs. I dared to glance back when I reached the landing, only to see him still standing where I left him, his hand on the balustrade, his gaze fixed on me. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. Without another word, he turned and trotted back down the steps.
THE END
Coming Soon:
THE CONVENT’S SECRET
The 5th Glass and Steele novel by C.J. Archer.
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Also by C.J. Archer
SERIES WITH 2 OR MORE BOOKS
Glass and Steele
The Ministry of Curiosities Series
The Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy
The 1st Freak House Trilogy
The 2nd Freak House Trilogy
The 3rd Freak House Trilogy
The Assassins Guild Series
Lord Hawkesbury's Players Series
The Witchblade Chronicles
SINGLE TITLES NOT IN A SERIES
Courting His Countess
Surrender
Redemption
The Mercenary's Price
About the Author
C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She spent her early childhood in the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, Australia, but now lives in suburban Melbourne with her husband, two children and a mischievous black & white cat named Coco.
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