Blackie walked over to the downed man and sniffed.
“That’s quite a brew he’s got on him.”
“On him or in him?”
Blackie crouched down and ran rough hands over Yates’ clothing.
“Outerwear is dry,” he commented. “I smell piss, so cannot confirm his underthings are dry any longer.”
“Charming,” I said.
“This wasn’t done in an hour, sir,” he said, looking up at me. “Not even two or three. He’s been like this a while.”
I refused to believe this was not a set-up.
“Get him up. Get him awake. I have questions.”
“Right you are, sir.”
A bucket of water later, a yell of surprise that threatened to bring down the house, and a hell of a lot of sputtering, and Dr Barclay Yates was awake enough to face my enquiries.
“What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” he shouted.
I pulled a chair out from the corner of the room and sat down. The relief almost made me groan, but I managed to restrain myself. I studied the dishevelled and now soaking wet man before me. He blinked owlishly back with red-rimmed eyes.
“There is a lady in the house, Dr Yates,” I said pleasantly. “Control yourself.”
“What have you done to Elizabeth, you baffoon?”
“I shall ask the questions if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I mind, sir. Why wake me? Why in such a disturbing manner?” He flicked fearful eyes toward Blackie and then settled them back on who he thought was the lesser threat in the room.
“You missed Fitzroy’s Regal Challenge’s race, Doctor,” I said.
“I did?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I…” He glanced around the room and then squinted his eyes at the bright light spilling in through the window. Raising a hand, he covered his face and said, “I missed the race?”
“Yes. Where were you last night?”
“I was…” His voice trailed off.
“Doctor?”
“I don’t remember. What day is it?”
“Race day.”
“Yes, yes, of course. How strange.”
He peered down at his hands and noted the trembling. He tightened his fingers into fists and rested them down on his thick thighs.
“I feel dreadful,” he said. “I need a drink.”
“Drinking’s what got you into this mess,” Blackmore said from over my shoulder.
“Water, man!” Yates exclaimed. “I must hydrate.”
“If you say so,” Blackie offered, moving to the dresser in the corner of the room and pouring the man a glass from the jug. He handed it to the doctor after checking with me first.
I sat back in my chair and watched the good doctor down the water and then request another. After two more, I held up my hand to stall Blackmore.
“That’s enough,” I said.
“I’ll be the judge of that, Inspector,” Yates said. “I am a physician after all.”
“Where were you last night?” I asked, instead of addressing that last comment.
He lowered the empty glass in his hand and stared at the floor.
“I don’t remember.”
“Try,” I instructed. “Your freedom rests on your ability to recollect.”
“My freedom? Just what are you getting at, Kelly?”
“Last night, Doctor?” I pressed.
“I cannot tell you what I do not know!”
“Then tell me this,” I said, leaning forward. “Have you visited Bohemia before?”
“Well, I, ah, yes.”
“New England?”
“Of course, everyone does nowadays.”
“Are you responsible for this?” I pulled the fly-sheet from my coat pocket and handed it to the man.
He stared down at the words and then licked his lips.
“It’s a hobby,” he said. “One I picked up in university.”
“Cambridge?”
“Yes.”
“And this hobby is vampires?”
“No,” he said. “Well, rather, the occult. Secret societies and their commitment to the supernatural sciences. It’s fascinating stuff. You’d be surprised how many upstanding members of society take an interest in the unexplained and unexplainable. New England is rife with superstition, and I find it most satisfying identifying those who have a penchant for such. I have written an article and plan to be published in the Scientific Journal. Would you like to read it?”
“I’d like a copy, yes,” I said.
“Splendid. Not many show an interest in my more unusual pursuits. If I succeed in having the article published, I shall make a name for myself.”
If he’d murdered the four innocents in our city, he would make a name for himself as well.
“And you cannot remember where you were drinking last night?” I enquired once he’d located a copy of his article for me.
“I don’t remember drinking at all, sir.” He looked down at his dishevelled self and then sniffed. “But I cannot deny I am feeling under the weather and smell rather ripe.”
“That you do, sir,” Blackie said quietly.
“My apologies for greeting you in such a manner,” the man said, making it more and more difficult to believe he was our murderer.
“Don’t trouble yourself, guv,” Blackie quipped.
“Thank you for your understanding,” Yates said.
I let out a sigh. If this man was our murderer, then I’d eat my hat.
But evidence was evidence, and the trail of breadcrumbs my wife had left me led to Barclay Yates.
I stood up. Blackie straightened in preparation of what was to come. He knew my mind. He knew my heart. Did he know too much?
I flicked my gaze over the sergeant and then forced my attention back on the doctor.
“Dr Barclay Yates,” I said with authority. “I am placing you under arrest for the suspicion of murder. Until we can ascertain your whereabouts this morning and last night, you are to be remanded in custody at the Auckland Central Police Station.”
The man blinked up at Sergeant Blackmore and me.
And then promptly toppled over in a dead faint.
“Well,” Blackie said, scratching at his beard, “at least he’ll not resist boardin’ the paddy wagon.”
I nodded my head and walked out of the room, leaving the logistics to the sergeant.
Part of me wanted the murderer to be Barclay Yates.
Part of me cringed at the idea that a murderer would faint.
And part of me acknowledged that I had not yet the answers I wanted.
The dark cloud of my deathly wife hung suspended above me, and I did not have a hope of escaping her storm’s rage.
I Wondered What Papa Would Say
Anna
Mina was in the garden with Constable Mackey’s sister. I watched them from the kitchen window above the sink as Mrs Hardwick scurried around the room behind me making lemon buns. The window stood ajar, just enough to smell the lavender in the garden and to hear Arabella Mackey’s soft, lilting voice and Wilhelmina’s delicate laughter.
The girl made my cousin happy and yet I had expected to find disaster upon my return from the races.
“They suit each other,” Mrs Hardwick said, dusting the cakes with sugar. “I was right worried when Inspector Kelly announced the sergeant’s transfer, but the lass has kept young Miss Cassidy occupied with stories that boggle the mind.”
“Boggle the mind?”
“Fantastical tales, miss. I have never heard the such.”
“Mina likes them?”
“She does fair love them, Miss Cassidy. There were a few tears, to be sure. But the lass has bounced back faster than I thought possible.” Hardwick paused, perhaps waiting for me to agree. I could not form words as I was not sure how I should be feeling. “Your inspector did a good thing, miss.”
I turned to face the housekeeper. “He is not my inspector, Hardwick.”
“Nonsense. He is you
rs, and he is a good man. Things will sort themselves out, you’ll see.”
I did not have the fortitude to battle my over-opinionated housekeeper, so I helped myself to a bun, avoiding the slap on the wrist that followed, and walked from the room with a muttered reminder to keep an eye on the garden for me.
Andrew had sent Sergeant Blackmore away and then arranged for a replacement for him for Mina. My heart swelled at the tenderness he’d shown my cousin. At the effort he’d made and the consideration he’d given. There were times when Andrew Kelly truly did surprise me. This was most definitely one of those occasions.
I shook my head, smiling to myself, and donned my coat, then picked up my parasol and left the building. I had a luncheon to attend, one in which I had not yet been forsworn from. As it was not officially a suffragette meeting, I thought my appearance would be accepted. With talk of women’s rights at the forefront of politicians’ minds and news-sheets’ front pages, the local businesswomen’s association had taken to more regular gatherings.
We might have all been carded members of the suffrage movement, but we were first and foremost businesswomen.
I expected to see Mrs Yates there, as well as my fellow suffragettes Maisey Kendrick and Louise Goodwin. Mrs Yates, of course, was a politician and part-owner of the Yates family stud. Maisey ran a florist shop, and Louise worked her widow’s grocery store. Much of what we had achieved in the past had been on the arm of husbands or fathers or even brothers. But finally, we were starting to see more and more women the sole proprietor or acknowledged part-owner of their own businesses.
It was an exciting time to live in.
I had missed the suffrage meetings, I realised; the gathering of like-minded women. But this businesswomen’s luncheon was the next best thing. With a skip to my step and a hum on my breath, I walked down the road until I spotted a hansom cab, climbing aboard and directing the driver to Drake Street.
Excitement bubbled up within me as the Empire Hotel grew nearer. Even the darkening clouds in the sky could not dampen my mood, it seemed. Drake Street was busy, leading as it was onto Victoria and Queen Streets; the area of the city where hotels and taverns and restaurants could be found in abundance. I studied the exterior of the Empire building, the red brick façade and multitude of arched windows, and prepared to alight the buggy.
Paying the driver, I stepped down from the cab, straightening my cloak. With one last look at the austere entrance, I strode across the path and pushed through the front door. The sound of laughter and low feminine conversation greeted me, followed by the smell of broth or stew; something meaty and appealing.
Maisey and Louise rushed forward immediately upon spotting me, smiles on their faces, welcome in their eyes and flushed cheeks. I had forgotten how fulfilling it felt to be at one with my sisters.
How I did miss the suffrage meetings!
“Anna! Oh, how wonderful,” Maisey said, clapping her hands eagerly. “You are here.”
“Mina did not accompany you?” Louise asked.
“Not today, sweetings,” I said. “She has a visitor.” It was a truth, even if it was a slight twisting of the realities my cousin now faced.
“Oh, she should have invited her friend to the meeting,” Masiey said. “All the merrier!”
I smiled as Louise said, “There is someone you simply must meet, Anna. A kindred spirit and new member of our erstwhile team.”
I arched my brow and allowed my friends to pull me deeper into the room. Women welcomed me with smiles and nods of their heads. A few offered kind words in greeting. Some simply watched, unsure I was certain of how to react to me being there. I had not been arrested for the murders, but the Bohemian body found in my surgery and my tools at the side of the second cadaver had left a mark on my soul, it seemed.
Most did not judge, or perhaps they did not think of such things at all, but some watched warily from behind coy hands, their lips moving in hushed whispers to their dining companions.
I ignored them all as best I could and came to a stop in front of a well-dressed lady. She wore a modern brocade dress in fashionable colours, the quality of which was the best one could get in all of Auckland City. I didn’t for a moment think she had purchased her garment locally, however; she had an air of sophistication about her that had you thinking of London or Paris, not the Antipodes. Her eyes were a startling blue and her hair a pale blonde. Rouge was delicately painted on her cheeks, bringing out her high cheekbones and fine ancestry.
“Mrs Drummond,” Louise said, and my heart sank. “May I introduce you to Dr Anna Cassidy?”
I smiled, but my face felt frozen. This accomplished-looking woman was John Drummond’s new wife? What had he told her of me? What opinion had she already formed from his harsh descriptions? I did not want any of these thoughts to sway me, but John Drummond had been a thorn in my side for far too long.
“Dr Cassidy,” the woman said in a surprisingly deep voice. “Won’t you please join me?” She indicated the seat at her side. “I have heard so much about you.”
I did not doubt it, but one glance at the tables nearest our location and I realised there was no escape to be had. Most of those who sat close by were the women who watched me with wary eyes. I was in a viper’s nest, and my dear friends had inadvertently brought me to the snake herself.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the seat she offered. Maisey and Louise, having done their duty at introductions, flittered off to help another poor unsuspecting soul.
I turned my attention to the woman before me and met amused eyes as they watched me flounder.
“You must not fret, dear Doctor,” she said. “I am well aware of the relationship you have had with my husband. And I tell you now; it means nothing. Nothing at all. I am quite capable of making up my own mind.”
I was startled into silence, but only briefly. Her forthright attitude was refreshing, but I was not certain I could trust it.
“Your husband is a fine surgeon, Mrs Drummond,” I offered. “It is only personally that we clash.”
“Nonsense. John has a taste for gin and a temperament for theatrics. But oh, how devoted he can be.”
I smiled, unsure whether to laugh at her blithe acceptance of her husband’s attributes or agree with her wholeheartedly.
“Marriage suits you well?” I enquired.
“Marriage, my dear Doctor,” she said, sitting forward as if to impart a secret worth the telling, “is delicious. I highly recommend it. My darling husband does whatever I ask of him. We, women, do so deserve to be worshipped.”
She laughed at her own words, the sound throaty and quite striking. The woman was striking, I thought. And not just a little straightforward. I was not used to such open discussion of personal matters, and yet we were sitting in a businesswomen’s association gathering; where else could women speak so freely?
“I must admit, you are not what I expected,” I offered.
“Because I have opinions of my own?”
“Perhaps,” I acquiesced. “Bear in mind, I have known Dr Drummond for years.”
She offered me a knowing smile. “They say, leopards can’t change their spots. They just haven’t met a woman with an agenda.”
I huffed out an amused breath of air.
“And what, pray tell, Mrs Drummond, is your agenda?”
She took a sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, effectively displaying her fine clothing to perfection.
“Baubles and trinkets and a wardrobe full of only the best,” she said, then winked. “He has deep pockets, Dr Cassidy, and I aim to help him reach as far as one can into them.”
I shook my head. “You are incorrigible, Mrs Drummond.”
“I am a woman who knows her own mind. Take note, Dr Cassidy. I do not need a man. I have had many. And what they have left me with is an uncanny ability to turn a rough diamond into a jewel worthy of keeping. John Drummond is polishing up quite nicely. You need not worry. I shall have him fully in order in no time at all.”
&nb
sp; Of all the things the woman could have said, I had not anticipated that. I could not form an adequate reply if I had tried. Mrs Drummond was quite something else, but I sensed no subterfuge, no ill intent from the lady. She was full of life, a thirst for it in fact. She was a breath of fresh air, and although I did not want to like anything that John Drummond touched or coveted, I could not help liking this woman.
I smiled at her and took a sip of the wine that had been placed in front of me.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs Drummond,” I said.
“Dear Dr Cassidy,” she replied with all the pomp and ceremony I was certain was expected of the lady, “the pleasure is all mine.”
The afternoon passed in pleasant conversation. I moved on from Mrs Drummond, as she was much in demand and I did not want to appear greedy. Although not exactly the sort of woman our franchise needed on first inspection, there was something about the lady that drew people in.
I was not aware of what business she ran, if any, other than her new husband’s finances. But she did make the luncheon entertaining, telling tales of the men she had known and the places she’d been. She seemed far too exotic for John Drummond, but then, the man had improved his demeanour of late. Perhaps she saw something I did not.
I was deep in amused thoughts when I came face to face with Mrs Elizabeth Yates.
“You!” she said, her voice raised.
“Elizabeth,” I offered, trying to ignore the startled glances coming our way.
“Don’t you ‘Elizabeth’ me, Dr Cassidy. How dare you!”
“Mrs Yates,” I corrected, reaching out to touch the woman on the arm, “You have me at a disadvantage.”
She threw my touch off, almost connecting her hand with my cheek. I stepped back. She advanced on me.
“It’s all your fault!” she screamed.
The room fell silent.
“He’s innocent, but you had to get involved and condemn a decent man. What is it with you and doctors? Why can you not allow another to share the light you so love? Must it always be about Anna Cassidy?”
A horrible yawning pit opened up inside me at the realisation of what Elizabeth spoke of. I had helped Andrew direct his attentions to her brother-in-law. To Dr Barclay Yates. Had Andrew arrested the man already?
Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Page 19