“Is tragedy romantic?” Isobel asked.
Sarah thought about it. “Not in actual life. No. But in fiction… it’s thrilling. At least I think so, like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Sarah. But so am I,” Riot said, plucking up his fork. “I maintain that Hamlet was a cad.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Gentlemen just don’t understand romance,” she said with all the confidence of a world-wise twelve-year-old.
She bade them goodnight, hugged them both, then paused at the door. “Was Jin in her room?” Sarah asked.
Isobel shook her head. “No.”
Sarah frowned. “Something’s not right with her. More than usual.”
With that, she left.
Isobel got a fire going in the hearth, then tucked her legs on the big chair and rested her chin on her hand. Why shouldn’t Jin be drawn to Chinatown? It had been her home. The place she was raised, a place to belong, where she wouldn’t be turned away because of the color of her skin.
They sat in silence. Riot delicately slicing meat off his chicken thigh. How he managed to eat roasted chicken off the bone with knife and fork, she couldn’t fathom, but he was meticulous about it.
Isobel stared at the flames in thought. She was thinking of Jin, of Sarah’s last words, and the romantic notions of young women.
“Do you think girls consider notes and secret correspondence romantic?” she asked suddenly.
Riot stopped chewing, and stared at her. He swallowed down his food, and took a sip of tea before answering. “Being neither young nor female, I’d think you’d be better suited to answer that.”
Isobel gave him a look.
Riot wiped his hands on a napkin, and sat back. His deck appeared in hand, and he plucked a card from it. “Say whatever you like, but you’re my queen, Bel.” He turned the card her way: the Queen of Hearts.
“I didn’t say anything.”
The quirk of his lip said otherwise.
“I am a woman, and young,” she admitted. “But I’m an unconventional one.”
The card disappeared into his deck.
“Are you sure you don’t do any magic tricks?” she asked.
Riot ignored her question. “Would you find a cipher from me romantic?”
“I’d find it intriguing. But only if it was interesting.”
“I’m always interesting,” he said.
“Let’s assume Estelle was telling the absolute truth, and she’s not prone to fanciful stories.”
“Did she strike you as such?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Ella meets this Bennett around town. Maybe while she’s watching Ruby, or at the theater. Perhaps he approached her after amateur night.”
“Wearing a clerical collar,” Riot added. “That’s a sure way to win a woman’s trust.”
“Irene Adler wasn’t fooled,” Isobel said dryly. “And a clerical collar is hardly romantic.”
Riot pointed a card at her. A jester. “See, you do have a mind of a normal young woman.”
“Who married a gunfighter.” It was meant lightly, but it conjured images of three dead men at Riot’s feet and a splatter of brains from Tim’s rifle.
Shaken, she pushed herself out of the chair towards the window. More to give herself some time to drive the casual spilling of blood from her mind. She thought of the man she’d killed that night, and of Curtis, whom she’d indirectly killed last year. How many lives had Riot taken in his lifetime? Did he ever think of those men?
Isobel unlatched the window and threw it open. Cool air soothed her. She sat on the parapet bench and drew her legs up. It was useless theorizing. Everything came back to one simple fact: they needed to find either Ella or Bennett. Or Madge Ryan.
“It worries me that she didn’t meet Bennett in the restaurant,” Riot said.
“Me, too. If the advert was a coded message, why did Ella leave him waiting? Unless the entire restaurant staff is lying.”
“Or simply mistaken. The Popular is busy.”
“The same could be said of the Western Union office. But that, at least, fits. Ella had to have made the telephone call from somewhere, and I confirmed that a call was placed between that office and the Spencer’s home, then another to Menke’s Grocery.”
A whisper of shuffling cards filled the ensuing silence.
Finally, she growled. “There’s a string of possibilities and no substance.”
The cards stopped. “There is one fact. Ella is missing.”
“And it’s very likely that she doesn’t want to be found.”
“We don’t know that.”
“No, you’re right. I keep putting myself in her shoes.”
“Running off with an older man?”
Isobel glanced at him across the room. “Look how that turned out for me.”
“Saddled with two children and a demanding lover.”
“I thought I was the demanding one,” Isobel said.
“We’re of like mind.”
“In that, at least.”
Riot gave her a look, and turned back to the case. “Some cases don’t leave trails, Bel. Sometimes it takes months of leg work, the public’s help, or a chance encounter. Tim’s eyes and ears around the city and beyond have been alerted. They’ll eventually turn up something.”
Something he said pricked her mind. A thought, just out of reach. “What did you say?”
“It may take time.”
Isobel gave an impatient gesture. “No, word for word. What did you say?”
Riot tucked his deck away, and repeated himself, sounding both amused and expectant. It was the word ‘trail’ that had snagged her mind. She latched on it. Ella had left a trail.
“I’m daft. It’s so obvious.” Isobel burst to her feet to redress. “But of course, you weren’t there…The waitress in the Popular said Bennett always had a book with him. Ella’s mother said she was a great reader, but there weren’t any books in her room. And today at the church, the pastor said Ella attended the literary meetings and always had a new book to recommend.”
“The library.”
“And there’s only two free libraries in the city.”
Riot checked his watch. “Which are closed.”
“So?” Tobias White asked when Sarah returned. “What was your big plan?”
Sarah kept walking down the stairs. The boy followed on her heels, sliding down each stair instead of stepping. The result was a dull ‘bump, bump, bump’ behind her.
“I tricked Atticus into telling me what Mr. Lotario said.”
“That’s cheating!” Tobias hissed.
Sarah stopped, and shushed the boy. She glanced over the railing to see if anyone was snooping downstairs. But then there were doors and ears everywhere here. “It’s not cheating. We’re investigating. It was the quickest way to get information. You’re just upset you didn’t think of it.”
Tobias rolled his eyes. “I’m not a girl. I can’t just flutter my eyelashes and get my way.”
Sarah tilted her head. “I did not do that.”
Tobias fluttered his eyelashes in mimicry.
Sarah stuck out her tongue, and kept walking.
“Why did Mr. Lotario think it was—”
Sarah hushed him before he could blurt out the man’s name.
“Him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mr. Lotario could be wrong, you know.”
Sarah considered that. “It’s a place to start.”
“But why would it be him? That don’t make no sense.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Sarah corrected. With Maddie gone, there was no one to correct Tobias’s grammar and it fell to her. When she remembered. “And I don’t know. Maybe he needed the money.”
Sarah passed the second floor landing.
“Aren’t we going to watch him?” Tobias asked.
“I want to talk to Grimm.”
“Good luck with that,” Tobias snorted. “I’m going to
spy on Mr… you know who.”
Tobias left, and Sarah went off to search for Grimm, but he was still gone.
Sarah started awake, and shivered. She had left the window in her room open, and was sitting on the floor under it, waiting. She heard a familiar scuffing, and got up, or tried to. Her legs were asleep, and pins and needles sent her back down to the carpet. She yanked herself up by the sill and stretched her leg to the side, trying to work out the kinks as she looked out into the fog.
Jin’s rope ladder went right up past her window. It was stretched sideways, around the corner towards the turret room where Atticus and Isobel stayed.
Sarah listened to the low murmur of voices.
“… at least stop going at night,” it was Isobel’s voice.
“I can go where I like,” Jin shot back defiantly.
“True, you can,” Atticus said. “But we’re asking you not to. You know as well as anyone how dangerous those alleys are.” He sounded exhausted.
“I know what to watch for.”
“Jin,” Isobel said. Sarah could hear the restraint in her voice. “Please. For us. Don’t go there at night. Last time we went in there to search for you, Riot got pummeled close to death and tossed off a fire escape.”
Silence.
“Then do not look for me,” Jin finally growled.
“If you’re bent on visiting the Quarter, at least tell us where you’re headed and when to expect you back.” Atticus’s voice was deep and low, and Sarah had to strain her ears to hear this last bit. She should have felt ashamed for eavesdropping, but she didn’t even feel a twinge.
“I will come back before dark,” Jin finally agreed.
“We were about to turn the Quarter upside down tonight, Jin. If you’re even ten minutes late, we will,” Isobel said.
“Do not come looking for me!” The force of the words jerked Sarah backwards, even from around the corner and in a window.
“Why not?” Atticus asked softly.
Sarah held her breath, listening.
It was a long minute. Sarah imagined Atticus waiting patiently, holding Jin’s eyes in that way he did while Isobel bit back the urge to demand answers. Atticus won out.
“There is a chun hung with your names on it.”
“Isobel, too?” Atticus asked, surprised.
“For cutting off Big Queue’s queue.”
Isobel snorted. Clearly amused. But Sarah was not. Her stomach clenched with fear.
“Jin, I’ve had a chun hung on my head for quite some time,” Riot said.
“Someone tried to kill you the other night,” Jin said firmly.
“It wasn’t the criminal tongs,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“I know,” he said. “We’re not in much danger unless we go into the Quarter, but you are. You’re our adopted daughter now.”
“I will be careful.”
“Why are you going there?” Isobel demanded. Her patience had run out.
“Why can I not go?” Jin returned. “It is the only place I can go to a theater and sit where I want. It is the only place I can walk into a shop and not be chased away.”
Was it Sarah’s imagination, or did she hear a deep breath? Atticus likely put up a calming hand.
“You have every right to visit. You’re not a prisoner, Jin. But we do have rules. Don’t go into the Quarter at night. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she bit out.
Scuffing, and then a shadow appeared around the corner. Sarah ducked back inside the window and pressed herself against the wall as Jin passed by to climb up to her attic room.
Sarah stood for a few minutes, considering. She was the last person on earth Jin would confide in. And if she wasn’t confiding in Atticus and Isobel, then that meant trouble.
Finally, Sarah laced up her shoes, and shrugged on a coat.
Sarah found Grimm in the stables. He was sitting in the dark beside Sugar’s stall. The horse was snuffling his ear. His eyes were hidden by his cap and his shoulders were hunched. He rested his elbows on his knees, hands hanging limply.
Sarah rushed forward. “Are you all right?”
Grimm looked up quickly, causing Sugar to start. He tensed, on the verge of running, but when his eyes focused on her, he relaxed.
Grimm started to stand.
“You don’t have to get up for me,” Sarah said.
But Grimm stood anyway. He removed his hat and held it in his hands. His left eye was swollen shut, and his face puffy with bruises.
Grimm turned to a lantern. While he lit it, Sarah stepped forward to scratch Sugar’s nose. Sugar nuzzled her neck, knocking her a step to the side.
Grimm came closer, and Sugar sniffed at his coat, nibbling on a button, until he rested a calming hand on her forehead.
“You’ve been following Jin into Chinatown, haven’t you?” Sarah asked.
Grimm didn’t seem surprised that she had pieced it together. He nodded.
Sarah turned to look up at him. Lantern light played over his black skin. It glowed with a kind of luster, tracing his features. Noble forehead, broad nose, and defined cheekbones, he was tall and his shoulders slim. His eyes were disarming—close to amber in color. He was the strangest, most beautiful boy she had ever seen. There was something angelic about his appearance. But his usually calm eyes, currently just one, was full of sadness.
“What’s she doing there?” Sarah asked.
Grimm shrugged.
“Did she punch you?” She pointed to his eye.
Grimm shook his head.
“Someone else did?”
He nodded.
“Why are you following her?”
Grimm started to reach for the notepad he kept in his inner pocket, but stopped. “She’s in danger,” he whispered, his voice a rasp.
Sarah stood stunned for a full minute. Her mind worked, and her mouth fell open. Grimm had spoken.
“You can talk!” Her squeak startled Sugar. The horse jerked backward with a snort.
Grimm sighed, shoulders slumping.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said.
He shrugged.
“What happened? Who’s after her?”
“Herself.”
Sarah frowned. Well Grimm could talk, but he sure wasn’t making much sense. She looked out of the stable and up to the attic window across the courtyard. “What should we do?”
Grimm shook his head. He didn’t know what do to.
Sarah wanted to go straight to Atticus and Isobel and tell them, but the conversation she had overheard was fresh in her mind. It was dangerous for them to venture into the Quarter. Besides, they knew Jin was going there, and, short of locking her up, they couldn’t stop her. What was Jin after?
It didn’t matter.
“Grimm,” Sarah said. He looked at her expectantly. “I have an idea. I… I know someone who might be able to help.”
He looked at her in question.
“I can’t tell you,” she admitted. “But it’s kind of you to watch out for her. Give me a day to contact my friend. He’ll know what to do.”
With a smile, Sarah left the beautiful boy to tie a black ribbon around a laundry sack that was waiting for the morning’s pick up.
25
When In Doubt
Thursday, October 11, 1900
Isobel stopped at the threshold to the library, and inhaled. It was so sudden that Riot nearly ran into her in the act of removing his hat. He took the opportunity to study her. He couldn’t help it. He was finding it difficult to keep his mind on task when she was about.
And it wasn’t just that he was a smitten new husband. Other men noticed too. Wisps of blondish hair escaped from her felt hat. No flowers, no decorations, only a simple band, but there was something about how she wore it—a flash of eyes from under the brim, a tilt of the head.
She tugged off her leather gloves, and surveyed the shelves like a queen surveying a newly conquered kingdom. She wore a simple blouse and tie and her customary
split riding skirt with a neat jacket, and a stylish overcoat that came to her thighs. Although bespoke and nicely tailored, it wasn’t the clothes that lent her a queenly air. It was her presence, Riot decided. A combination of confidence, curiosity, and arrogance. He tore his eyes from her and searched the room for any threats. Not many in a library, but still, old habits kept him alive. And they would keep Isobel alive too, if he could only stop staring at her.
Tables, chairs, and books. People sat reading in quiet. Every sneeze and sniffle amplified.
Riot held a swinging gate open for Isobel, and she gave him a small smile. He had worried over the events in the Morgue—that he had shattered her trust, that she would put up her armor and refuse to be catered to. But she had grown during the past year, in confidence and wisdom, and the danger of the situation had not been lost on her. At least he hoped. Isobel did like her prey relaxed before she pounced.
Isobel set her sights on a rosy-cheeked woman sitting at the librarian’s desk. Riot took her hint, and made for the counter, where a sharp-nosed man opened one book after another, stamping each one, making notations on three different index cards, then setting the book aside. The stack of books nearly dwarfed him.
“Good day,” Riot said.
“Sir, how may I assist you?” Splendid. British. By the book, no doubt. Riot didn’t waste time with a story.
“I’m with Ravenwood Detective Agency.” Riot slid his card across the counter. “Does a man by the name of John Bennett frequent your library?”
The man looked pointedly at the books. “Unless ‘John Bennett’ is the title to a book, I can’t help you.”
“This particular person may be a danger to your young female readers.”
The man stared at him. “That’s not my concern.” He stamped another book.
“Do you know a girl named Elouise, or Ella Spencer?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You may very well be a danger to our young female readers.” The man gave a pointed look at Isobel’s back. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you admiring that young woman.”
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