“Yes. Good work, Chief,” the old man grumbled.
Silence reigned for all of twenty seconds and then Drummond puffed up his chest again and pointed a finger at me, “He is unstable, Ian. He came in here blustering, making all manner of accusations, and I have done nothing to deserve this sort of treatment. Nothing, I say!”
I glowered at the man, but for shame’s sake remained silent.
His words held a glimmer of the truth; enough to stay my rebuttal.
Chalmers looked at the dissecting tools on the floor for a long time and then said, “My office, Kelly. Now.”
He turned on his heel and marched out, expecting me to follow. Not that I wouldn’t; Ian Chalmers was my superior officer despite our recent falling out. I took one last hard look at Drummond to let him know it would be in his best interests to stay out of my way.
But the damn man had grown an inch or so in confidence because he stepped into my path, blocking my exit from the surgery.
With a derisive smirk on his lips, he whispered harshly, “One down. One to go. And she won’t throw a fist like a man, will she, Kelly?”
“Get out of my way, Drummond,” I said.
“It won’t be your way for long,” he replied and smiled; there was nothing remotely friendly in that smile.
I walked past him, determined not to limp, and made my way to the superintendent’s office.
Bobbies clustered in small groups muttering to each other, their eyes tracking my progress and their words tripping off their lips ever faster. I saw shock and wariness there. I saw distrust.
If a detective could not count on the backing of his constables then likely their days were numbered.
With a heavy heart, I entered Chalmers’ office and shut the door behind me.
He stood behind his desk, hands clasped at his back, scowl permanently etched into his face. Even his white whiskers appeared more disagreeable than ever.
“I have tried,” he said, voice soft and in so being quite alarming, “to understand the pressures these murders have placed on you. The weight of knowing your wife may well be behind them. I have tried, damn you, Kelly, to understand your plight. But this…this is unacceptable.”
“Drummond is not without his guilt in this,” I said.
“You would argue your innocence by condemning another man? What has happened to you, Andrew? What have you become?”
I could not answer. I was not accustomed to making excuses for myself. But the damn man drew such a depth of anger from me whenever he vilified Anna. Drummond stood where Anna should have stood.
And yet, the police officer in me knew I was seeing this from a biased viewpoint. Drummond was qualified, competent and male. His penchant for gin aside, when the man was sober, of which he appeared to be more oft than not nowadays, he was an accomplished physician.
Chalmers had made the correct appointment considering today’s society. Would any other man have chosen differently?
And that thought, that knowledge, wounded me. Because if Anna knew I felt this way, I could lose her completely.
Hers was an impossible mountain to climb. Would that I could aid her in her struggle. Instead, all I did was prove how appropriate Drummond was for his role and how I, in contrast, was not fit for mine.
Chalmers sighed.
“I may well be the Superintendent for this Police Force, but I answer to people, Inspector. The council will hear of this, and not much I say will sway them. John Drummond has friends in high places.”
“I once thought you his,” I offered.
“I am. But at one time I was also yours.” He shook his head. “Your behaviour of late has made that impossible. Not to mention that Cassidy chit you have thrown your lot in with. Thank God for William Elliott is all I can say! If we can convince the man to look past her deficiencies, we may well have a chance of ridding ourselves of this trouble once and for all. He takes her back to London. You keep your head down. And everything goes back to how it was.”
I had thrown a punch at Drummond’s jaw for saying as much of Anna. And yet I stood before the superintendent, hat in hand, disgrace a cloak of my own making, and did nothing.
My body practically vibrated with the guilt that coursed through my wretched heart.
I was failing Anna.
I was failing myself.
“I cannot save you,” Chalmers was saying; the room slowly spun around my head as my vision dimmed. “I can, however, attempt to calm Drummond somewhat. If he does not press charges, then we may well see past this. But should he involve the council, there is nothing to be done for it; you will be on your own.”
Another head shake. Another look of disappointment.
“But your standing here with the men is not so easily rectified,” he said gruffly. “You must make amends with the constables. They look up to you, Kelly. They aspire to be you. And right now their hero is dirtying his hands. See what you can do to gain their trust again.
“And for God’s sake, man. Stay away from that woman. Let Elliott have a chance to win her heart. If you’re forever sniffing around her petticoats, she can hardly be blamed for spurning the man. You have corrupted her, sir. And as such, any further interference on your part will be your own downfall.”
He studied me for a moment longer and then said, “See to it, then.”
I nodded my head and walked from the room. Numbness invaded my body. An ache set up home in my heart. I realised that had Chalmers blustered and raged, I would not have felt so wretched. His steady voice and well thought out words had done more to concuss me than Drummond’s roughened knuckles did.
However, there was one thing to be thankful for; the bobbies who watched me with various looks of suspicion on their façades had not heard the superintendent and therefore could not be certain I had been in the wrong in the police surgery.
Chalmers had done me a favour and not for the first time, I was embarrassed to realise I’d forgotten how good a superior officer he’d been in the past. It had only been with Thomas’ death that Ian Chalmers had changed in my regard. Perhaps it was his indifference at the funeral. Or mayhap it was more to do with his treatment of Anna when she showed such promise as a physician. In any case, I had begun to think of Ian Chalmers as aged beyond the ability to hold his position. I felt he had been compromised by John Drummond’s instant dislike of Anna. Of society’s expectations of such.
And to a certain degree, the man was swayed by those things. But at one time he had been an excellent officer. Thomas had admired him. Ian had admired Thomas.
What had happened at the end to sour that? Chalmers would never say and with Thomas long gone, I had no hope of finding an answer.
I entered my office and removed my coat, hanging it on the stand in the corner. Then I crossed to my desk and gratefully took the weight off my bad leg, massaging it with one hand while I opened the bottom drawer and withdrew a whisky bottle. I poured two fingers into a glass and took a healthy swallow.
Then I reached over to my tray and withdrew the autopsy report.
I stared at the words, unable to fathom an ounce of understanding from them.
I took another decent sip of my scotch.
It was this depressing tableau that greeted Sergeant Blackmore. One look at his face and I knew the day was not about to improve any.
“You and me need to ‘ave a talk, guv,” he said, his cockney accent thicker than normal. He shut the door at his back and took a seat across from me uninvited.
I studied him; his rough face, his grazed knuckles, his crooked nose, and the determined look to his eyes which were shadowed in pain.
I hazarded a guess it was emotional pain not physical. Not with James Blackmore.
I sighed and reached down to the bottom drawer and withdrew another glass.
No, this day was not about to get any better, but whisky might help.
Why Didn’t You Say?
Inspector Kelly
I stared across my desk at James Blackmore. He’d take
n the offered whisky without so much as a ‘by your leave’. He also had not commented on the damage to my person; the blood that so obviously coated my handkerchief. He stared into the bottom of his glass and watched the liquid swirl as he tilted his hand.
For all his bluster on appearing, he was now quite silent.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“Out,” he said succinctly. ‘Out’ was not an answer, but it was the only answer he was giving.
“You wished to discuss something with me,” I prompted.
He lifted dark eyes that spoke of anger and hurt to me. I took a sip of my drink to quell the emotions that look evoked within my body.
“What is it, Blackie?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.
Perhaps it was for the best that we had this out now. Perhaps it was fortuitous that I had my arse handed to me by Chalmers and then have to face my friend with words of honesty afterwards.
If he could, in fact, be honest.
My hand lifted toward the pocket that contained Eliza May’s letter. I stilled its progress and rested it on the desk’s surface instead. I studied Blackie as he contemplated how best to answer me. His knuckles were calloused, but he had not been in the ring lately; there was no evidence of recent injury. His nose was as crooked as ever; his hair a little long, touching his collar. I was uncertain if he had shaved this morning, but he had made an effort with his clothing.
He’d been at Anna’s. I took another sip of my whisky and waited.
“‘Ave I not been a loyal friend to you, sir?” he eventually asked.
“You have given me many years of loyalty,” I offered.
He shook his head and then downed the last of his whisky. I was tempted to refill both our glasses but refrained from that path. It was best to face this sober; for both our sakes.
“‘Many years,’” he said, placing the empty glass on the desk before him. “You ‘ave put a time limit to my loyalty.”
I had always wondered at Blackie’s acute assessment of any given situation. He was a fine detective. All that held him back was his penchant for fighting. The pugilist ring was no place for an inspector. Blackie, though, was neither constrained by his character nor ashamed of it. I envied him that self-awareness.
My past haunted me every day.
Would that I could read that sharp-witted mind. Would that I could be sure what he said next was the truth of it.
I could never trust him again, whether his loyalties lay with me or not. Eliza May had taken that from me. I cursed her in my mind and reached for the letter.
Withdrawing it from my pocket, I opened the still-crisp parchment and stared at the words. They cut like a knife even though I had read them repeatedly. Perhaps it was not so much the words but the woman penning them that did it.
Perhaps.
I handed the note to my sergeant and sat back.
He held my gaze for a suspended moment and then ducked his head and read. I was sure he read the note multiple times.
His cheeks pinked. His lips thinned. His free hand fisted on his thick thigh. I stared at the tight skin over his abused knuckles.
I do believe his knuckles are raw, and his mannerisms are too, and a demon lurks within him.
I averted my eyes and stared out the window.
“This…” he said. I turned my head to look back at him. His eyes met mine; a sheen of moisture covered them. He blinked, and the moisture was gone. “This is a lie.”
The words were spoken with conviction, and my heart so did wish for them to be true. But wishing for something and having it were two very different things. I knew this. I lived it daily with Anna.
I cleared my throat. “I received that at the boardinghouse in London, just prior to our departure.”
“Is the penmanship hers?”
I smiled a bitter smile. Blackie could always cut to the chase so easily.
“Yes. It is not Emily Tempest’s.”
Blackie stared down at the note again.
“It came from the Dutch East Indies?”
“The post stamp indicated as such.”
“So, she sent it prior to her departure for New Zealand.”
“Or had someone send it for her.”
Blackie glanced up. “That is a possibility.” He studied me. “You believe the words.”
I believed there was an element of truth to them. Eliza May was not afraid to twist the truth, but her delight in her machinations lay in their sincerity.
“I believe it to be an honest warning,” I said.
“How can she be honest, guv?” Blackie exclaimed. He stood up and started pacing. “This woman kills for her kicks, she does. How can you believe a word out of her rotten mouth?”
The unsaid being, over him. How could I believe Eliza May and not James Blackmore?
I was ashamed to see the truth of it. And yet I could not see a way out.
“If this is an honest warning as you say,” Blackie said gruffly, “then it speaks of someone other than me.” He shook the note at me. “I am not this demon. This pet of hers.” He spat on the floorboards beside him. “I am not, I say.”
He spoke with fervour. His demanding gaze pierced right through me. I wanted so much to believe the man. He had been my friend once.
“Can you not see,” I said quietly, “what ignoring this missive could bring? I must think of Anna.”
“And of our history? Of the ‘many years’ of loyalty? Do they mean nothing?”
I shook my head, my chest aching. My stomach revolting at what this woman was making of us.
“I will uncover the truth of it,” Blackie declared. “I will not rest until you see she does not refer to me.”
“If not you, then who?” I demanded. “Who, Blackie? ‘His knuckles are raw, and his mannerisms are too, and a demon lurks within him.’ Who should I look to for that description? Who?”
“There is many a man who could fit that bill, sir, and you know it.”
“Many a man who means so much to me?” I countered.
He blinked.
“Think you not, sir, that she don’t know that? She knows you, she does. She knows more than you want her to. Where you live. Who you care for. She don’t want any of that for you. She seeks your suffering. I know not what has made her so, but I do know evil when I sees it.”
And Eliza May was evil.
“Regardless,” I said. “Until this ends, we cannot go on as we are.”
“But…”
“I’m reassigning you, Sergeant,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.
“No, sir. I beg you.”
“Onehunga requires a senior officer to take charge of its station. You will answer to the Onehunga Borough Council. Expect some unrest there. They have recently acquired a new mayor. Mrs Elizabeth Yates.”
He stared at me as if he didn’t know me, and then my words reached through the fog of disappointment, and he said, “A woman mayor. Won’t Dr Cassidy be pleased?”
My heart thudded painfully in my chest.
“But not so, I dare say, all of Onehunga’s constituents.”
“Right you are, sir,” he said softly.
He looked down at the letter he still held in his hands. His fingers tensed, but he did not destroy the paper. Stepping forward, he carefully placed the missive on the desk between us.
“Is this a permanent reassignment, sir?” he asked.
I couldn’t answer. I so wanted the next words from between my lips to be a denial. And yet, I knew my wife and I knew the extent she could go to win the games she played.
“You start today,” I said.
He stared at me and then swallowed thickly.
“Onehunga is a fair distance away.”
Some ten miles away. Not as far as I could have sent him. But far enough away for Eliza May to have difficulty using him. And close enough to call him back when this was done with.
Or so I prayed.
“I will not be able to visit Miss Cassidy,” he said.
/>
I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted me to say.
“She will be upset,” he murmured. As if the chit’s emotional state was more important to him than his position within this police force.
I felt an uninvited sense of regret weave its way into my being.
He lifted pleading eyes to me. I expected him to beg for his position. For a chance to prove himself here, instead of wasting away in a backwater borough.
But again, James Blackmore surprised me.
“I beseech you, sir, watch over the gal for me. Watch over her as you watch over Dr Cassidy. She is not like your doctor, sir. She is not like any woman you would meet today. She is delicate and exceptional. She requires a soft hand and softer words. But most of all, sir, she requires routine. A pattern she can find solace in. Without which, I fear her world becomes too disordered. Too chaotic. It would take little for her to lose herself in such a place. I fear for her; I do, sir. I fear not for me and you, but for Wilhelmina Cassidy.”
I was stunned speechless; sure that my jaw trailed on the ground between us. I snapped my mouth shut and blinked at the man. This man who throws the hardest of punches. Who takes a fist to the chin as easily as he swills his whisky. Who can hide in the slums and not be noticed.
Who can sit in a garden with a damaged young lady and give her peace when others have failed.
“I…” I said, and straightened my body; sitting more upright in my seat to better face him. Guilt assuaged me. Anger ruled me.
But not for Blackie. For Eliza May.
“I will see to her, Sergeant,” I said. “You have my word.”
He studied me for a long moment and then nodded his head; a weight lifting off his shoulders, evidenced in the lightening of his eyes and the wrinkles that surrounded them. Without another word he exited the room, leaving me alone with my unruly thoughts.
His trust in me was humbling.
My distrust of him was, without a doubt, my lowest achievement to date.
Damn her. Damn Eliza May.
Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Page 13