“Yes, miss,” Hardwick said as Andrew rumbled, “Did you not hear me? There is evidence.”
I walked into the parlour and checked the fire, before turning and facing the inspector.
“I heard you, Inspector. I presumed you’d wish to advise me of the evidence over libations.”
“You presumed incorrectly, Doctor.”
And we were back to ‘Doctor’ again.
I sat down on the settee and straightened my skirts. I’d worn a burnt orange brocade today, deciding I’d spend time with Mina in the garden. I rather wished I’d chosen the crimson taffeta instead.
I looked up as Andrew made his way to the fireplace. His not sitting when I did so was telling.
“Hardwick won’t be long if you’d like to wait for the tea before starting,” I said.
“Anna,” he murmured. “It has begun.”
My heart thudded painfully inside my chest. Andrew glanced out the window, no doubt checking on the bobbies and the carriage. The officers would be able to see inside the parlour if they chose to do so, and I thought perhaps they would have chosen such a thing.
Or been directed to.
“Tell me,” I said, forcing the words passed numb lips.
“Are you missing equipment from your surgery?” he asked rather than expound on his previous statement.
I hadn’t expected that; I should have.
My mind flashed back to the dissecting tools laid out so meticulously beside the heartless cadaver in my surgery. I hadn’t noticed at the time that they were my father’s. His and my tools of the trade were much alike; indeed, it was oft-times difficult to tell them apart. But on reflection, the steel handles were well worn and the leather wrap quite supple.
I have used my father’s tools on many occasions in the past. Enough times not to have noticed the disparity when presented with a surprise such as the body of the man currently lying in my surgery.
I endeavoured to right my lack of foresight now, however.
It was not too far fetched to believe the person who had managed to enter my surgery without Hardwick’s or my knowledge could have done so prior to the murder and taken my set of dissecting tools. The body had been fresh. Rigor-mortis had not yet set in. I hadn’t used my mercury thermometer, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly. Nor did I need to check now to know the body was cold, but death was not long passed.
Two hours, perhaps a little more.
I would have been in Mina’s room, getting her up for the day. While Hardwick did the rounds of the fireplaces and saw to the morning repast.
Their timing had been precise.
Just as the hole in the chest had been.
Was the heart even now in our larder?
“Anna?” Andrew said quietly. “You do not seem overly surprised.”
“We knew this was coming,” I murmured. “Two months she has allowed us to live in relative peace; undisturbed but constantly looking over our shoulders. It is not a surprise that she would come to play her hand at last.”
“Are you missing equipment?” he repeated.
“I do not know.”
“But you suspect.” Not a question, so I did not answer.
For now, words failed me.
“One body is missing,” Andrew said carefully. “The body we have at the station is without a heart. We suspect that the second body is also without that organ. I am fairly certain the equipment left nearby is yours.”
I nodded my head.
“It’s quite damning,” he added. “But if we can find evidence of a break-in in your surgery, then the evidence can be dismissed. May I check your surgery for such?”
I let out a slightly hysterical laugh. Andrew’s face grew dour.
“Anna,” he said. “Please do not say you have the missing cadaver.”
I sat up straighter in my seat, steeling my spine, and met the inspector’s eyes.
So blue.
So worried.
So cornered.
Chalmers had him on a tight leash since his sabbatical to London and Andrew was chaffing.
“I have the missing cadaver,” I told him and watched the man I loved become enraged.
Thankfully, I knew that rage was not for me but for another.
Hell is Andrew Kelly’s struggle with his murderess wife.
No, Hell was not being able to comfort him when he stood a mere few feet away.
Of Course, I’ll Help You
Anna
Andrew’s hand was white where it rested, clenched into a fist, on the mantle of the fireplace. He stared into the flames and said nothing. Hardwick had appeared with our tea and cake some time ago; I’d partaken my share of the offering and was considering tackling Andrew’s as well when he finally turned to face me.
“How can you eat?” he demanded gruffly.
“If I am to be hauled off to the gallows before noon, then I shall be sure to eat Mrs Hardwick’s Queen cake before I do so.”
Andrew studied me for a long moment and then said, “This is serious, Anna.”
“So are my needs, Andrew. I have not yet had breakfast.”
“My apologies. I have been up some time and…”
“Superintendent Chalmers wished for you to corner me before I had a chance to destroy the evidence.”
“It is not like that.”
I poured tea into a cup for Andrew and refilled my own. I sipped it, watching the inspector through the steam that gently wafted before me.
“Tell me,” I finally said, “what is it like? There is a Black Maria in front of my house, Andrew.”
His eyes darted out of the parlour window again, a look of disgruntlement firmly upon his face. I studied him; his beard was trimmed neatly, his cravat tied perfectly, his waistcoat a lovely herringbone tweed in grey which matched his long coat and trousers. He wore a gold fob watch chain, artfully displayed across his midsection. His cane was ebony and polished to a fine shine; the curved handle appeared to be bone; boar tusk perhaps.
He’d made an effort in his appearance despite the fact he’d been up since dawn chasing a murderer across the city.
I smiled into my teacup and sipped my tea.
“Chalmers merely wishes to follow up on a lead,” Andrew said. “The dissecting equipment found at the scene has your initials on the leather they were contained within. If they had belonged to anyone else, I would be there instead of here. But they don’t, Anna. I am sure they are yours for I have seen them a time or two on your person.”
“I believe you,” I said, placing my cup and saucer back on the occasional table. I stood up. Andrew straightened and gripped his cane tightly. “Come along,” I said. “We’ve a body to investigate.”
“I rather thought I was the investigator,” Andrew murmured.
“And I am the victim of deception. We all have our roles to play, Inspector. Come along.”
I preceded him from the parlour and crossed the hall to the surgery. The door opened on well-oiled hinges, and the familiar aroma of camphor and ammonia met my nose. The body was laid out in all its horrid glory, untouched and uncovered, for even in my distressed state I’d been aware it was a crime scene.
“The heart is missing as you suspected,” I announced, crossing to my father’s dissecting tools and hesitating. “These were laid out for me; I am sorry, but I did use the forceps and hook to check the pericardial cavity.”
Andrew appeared at my side and peered down at the tools on display.
“Like this?”
“Yes. Waiting for me as if I were about to perform an autopsy.”
“Have you touched the body in any other way?”
“No. Having ascertained the cause of death, I proceeded to find Mrs Hardwick. I had thought perhaps this was a patient’s kin, and she had instructed the body to be brought in here.”
Andrew studied me intently, but I thought perchance he could see through me. I hadn’t been sure of any such thing; I’d not recognised the face of the deceased nor had Hardwick stoked the fi
re when the body would have been brought within the surgery.
“You have ascertained the cause of death without having to touch the body?” Andrew confirmed.
I smiled at him; it held an edge. “I am quite well trained, sir.”
“I offer no argument there, Doctor. Pray tell, how did this man die?”
“The slash to the cheek distracted him. The punctures to the carotid artery disabled him. And the heart taken from his thorax killed him. It was done very swiftly, Inspector. A speed that countered the carotid rupture and therefore exsanguination via an artery.”
Andrew stepped toward the cadaver and stared down into the chest cavity. “There is no blood within.”
I stepped up to his side and peered down as well. Without thinking, I reached for the Coxeter’s again. Andrew made a sound in the back of his throat, but he did not waylay me. I pulled the flap of skin back and hummed when it was evident the inspector had been correct.
I’d missed it earlier. That observation did not sit well. The body had been rendered bloodless, but I stood by my assessment; the carotid was not the culprit.
“Curious,” I said, returning the forceps to their rightful place on the leather wrap.
“The body at the scene appeared the same,” Andrew advised.
“Did Drummond ascertain the cause of exsanguination?”
“Dr Drummond is on leave at present.”
I spun toward Andrew. “Who is acting as Chief Surgeon?”
Andrew shifted uneasily. “We’re using Dr Yates from Onehunga.”
“Onehunga? That is miles away. Why did you not call on my services?”
“It was not my decision. Superintendent…”
“Chalmers!” I all but shouted. “Of course, he did! He could not countenance a woman surgeon in his police station.”
“Indeed.”
The anger left me as quickly as it had come. It was a battle I had no hope of winning, yet for the life of me, I could not stop myself from trying.
If you believe in it, then you fight for it. That is what my father had taught me. I believed I was the right person for the position of Chief Surgeon to the Auckland Police. If I had to outlive Ian Chalmers to achieve it, I would. But I would stack the deck in my favour; we were getting close. General elections a mere few months away.
With the suffrage franchise making such headway, there was no doubt in my mind that we’d see out the year with a universal vote.
“I am aware of Dr Yates,” I said much more quietly. “I know his sister-in-law. Elizabeth is a suffragette.”
“He is a good physician, Anna.” Better than Drummond, he didn’t say.
“Where is Dr Drummond, then?”
“He married, apparently. I was not invited. They honeymoon. I am not cognizant of where and for how long.”
“Married,” I repeated.
“Surprising, I know,” Andrew said smiling. “But to some, he is quite the catch.”
I scoffed.
“Not all ladies have such high standards as yourself, Miss Cassidy.”
I arched my brow at him. “I do not believe Drummond was ever in the running, sir.”
“I was not aware it was a race.”
Our eyes locked and in the blue depths of his gaze, I saw his promise. One day, that look said. One day we would be free to love one another.
He was asking me to wait.
I gave him the only answer I could.
Always.
Andrew cleared his throat. His attention returned to the cadaver. “When did you notice it?”
“A mere quarter hour prior to your arrival. I’d been in the garden with Mina, having helped her dress for the day.”
“Miss Cassidy can confirm this?”
“Yes.”
“And Mrs Hardwick?”
“She had set the fire at dawn, as she does every day, and not yet returned to stoke it.”
We both looked at the cold hearth.
“Between dawn and eight,” Andrew surmised.
“I can confirm a better time of death for you, Inspector,” I offered.
“No need. Yates will see to it.”
Even if the name was not that of my nemesis, it chaffed.
“Very well,” I clipped.
Andrew said nothing.
“We’ll use the Black Maria to transport the body to the station’s surgery,” he eventually advised.
“And I within it?”
“No, Anna. I will not see you in such.”
“And yet you brought it with you, Inspector.”
“Chalmers…”
“Yes. I do believe you said as much already.”
Andrew sighed. “My hands are tied, Anna,” he murmured. “See you not the bind I am in?”
I did. I saw it clearly. Andrew’s absence had become something of a thorn in his side on returning to New Zealand. The superintendent had decided his loyalties lay elsewhere and he was doing everything in his power to test the inspector; to push him to his limits and prove his suspicions once and for all.
I had yet to meet a man as loyal as Andrew Kelly. Chalmers did not know of the fortune he held within his grasp.
“I understand,” I said. “It is merely…”
“I know,” he murmured in reply.
He stood close; staring down at me as I stared at nothing. I could not look at him when he was so near I could feel his body heat and he spoke to me so very softly. I would not survive the heartache.
One day. I was not sure when that day would come to pass, and I was not sure I could cling to it strongly enough to survive the journey.
I shook myself awake; pushed the melancholy away. It would not serve me well now or on the morrow.
“Do you truly believe this is her?” I asked.
“Who else could it be?” Who else would place my dissecting tools at the scene of a gruesome murder but his Machiavellian wife?
He crossed to the window and tested the lock. The window opened easily.
“The latch is loose,” he said. I wasn’t sure if it was. “I’d hazard a guess that there is evidence of disturbance in your window garden. I shall have Sergeant Blackmore check it.”
“He is in the right locale for such an undertaking,” I observed dryly.
Andrew scowled at the window and then pulled back.
“Anything else missing, Doctor?”
The inspector had returned in his entirety.
“I have not checked, but I will be sure to advise you if there is.”
“Thank you. I must bring the constabulary in here.” It wasn’t a request for permission so much as a warning.
“I’ll check on Mina,” I offered. I did not want to be here when they took away the body. The Police Force had taken a lot away from me already; one more thing might just be the one thing too many that made me break.
“Please tell the sergeant I wish to see him,” Andrew advised.
“Of course.”
I’d made it to the door when he spoke again.
“Anna,” he murmured. I turned. Our eyes locked. “If it is Eliza May, you must take care. She is setting the stage. This is merely the prelude to a longer act and one, I fear, I cannot yet fathom.”
I looked at the body lying out on my surgeon’s table.
“The heart is an obvious statement,” I observed.
“Our love for one another,” Andrew confirmed.
I nodded, not meeting his eyes again.
“But the carotid artery? I cannot see the significance.”
“There will be one; we have yet to determine it, but it will exist.”
“‘We,’ Inspector?” I did look at him then.
“The Auckland Police Force, Doctor.”
“Ah,” I said in understanding. “Do give Dr Yates my best.”
Andrew nodded.
I turned and left the room, aware he watched me go until he could no longer see me.
Hardwick was fussing in the kitchen, so I used the side door into the garden at the rear of t
he house. The early morning sun reflected off the birdbath in the herb garden, a gentle rush of water sounded out from the stream behind the apple trees. Tuis and wood pigeons warbled in the branches of a pohutukawa tree. The cat from the mews slunk along beneath the shrubbery.
I rounded the corner of the building and spotted Mina and Sergeant Blackmore. My cousin was laughing. I stilled, not wanting to disturb the pleasant setting. Not wanting to intrude on what looked decidedly intimate for a garden scene.
Blackmore wasn’t sitting too close to Mina, nor was he touching her in any way. But there was a type of intimacy here. Mina’s lap was covered by a woollen blanket, and her hands were resting clasped before her; so pale; so fragile. The sergeant appeared to be regaling an amusing tale, using expansive hand movements and an expressive, if not slightly crooked, face. Sergeant Blackmore was a pugilist, and yet I had never met a man so caring of Mina as he.
He visited every other day.
I lifted my skirts and approached the couple. Andrew would be expecting Blackie in due haste, and they’d had time enough alone unsupervised. I could hardly call the view from the kitchens where Mrs Hardwick was toiling as a sufficient chaperone for my unmarried cousin.
“Dearest,” I said, announcing my arrival. “What a splendid day.”
“Anna,” Mina greeted with a warm smile, a sparkle hinted in the depths of her eyes. Something I had not seen for far too long now. My eyes flicked to Sergeant Blackmore’s.
“Doctor Cassidy,” he said by way of greeting.
“Sergeant,” I returned. “The inspector requires your assistance in the surgery.”
“Your surgery, miss?”
“Yes, indeed. There is a body.”
Mina shrank in on herself, and I could have cursed my stupidity right then and there.
“You don’t say,” Blackmore replied. “I’ll ‘ave to finish me tale another day, then, Miss Cassidy,” he said to Mina.
She bit her lip and nodded her head, but the spark had fled from her eyes; leaving behind a listless blue that was almost a grey.
I suppressed a sigh and met Blackmore’s slightly accusing eyes.
“A pleasure as always, Misses Cassidy,” he said, tipping his hat to us and then moving off toward the kitchen entrance and Hardwick’s no doubt observant gaze.
Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Page 2