Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series

by Nicola Claire

  “Where were you this morning?” he asked, continuing his pacing again.

  “I was questioning people in the slums.”

  “The slums? Why?”

  “There are whispers of extortion and the extortioner a member of the police.”

  “And should I investigate this alibi will it satisfy all those who press for your neck in a hangman’s noose?”

  I wished I could tell him that was so, but I had been met with fear and cowardice, and such opposition that I now feared the inhabitants of Freemans Bay would say whatever their blackmailer told them to.

  “It is the truth,” I said instead.

  “Which tells me that the problem in Freemans Bay is extensive.” He stopped and scratched at his long beard. “I have overlooked something,” he said.

  “As have I.”

  He turned and looked me in the eye.

  “Would that I could see inside your head, Kelly. To know you tell the truth and have not been corrupted by your wife. But I must follow the letter of the law. Five dead.”

  “I understand.” I sighed. “We have known each other a long time.”

  “A few years.”

  “Long enough to know the heart of a man.”

  “I would say that is more oft the truth than not, but anomalies do persist.”

  “I did not do the deed, Ian, but my wife’s hand is all over this.”

  “Your wife has not been seen on our shores.”

  Anna made a sound, and I turned to look at her. Her eyes, though, were averted, face pointed at the floor, back straight but head bowed. I turned back to Chalmers for whatever Anna had intended at the time she no longer wished to convey it.

  “The murderer is still at large,” I said to the superintendent.

  “Without his device to achieve the horrors he has thus far perpetrated.”

  “Think you not he may have another?”

  Chalmers’ face paled. “I would rather not think of such.”

  “Burying your head in the sand will not save the next victim.”

  “Regardless, your time on this case has come to an end. I am forced to remove you from your position.”

  “Ian.”

  He held up a hand. “I have appointed a replacement.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “Sergeant Blackmore has been recalled from Onehunga and will take up the mantle of Acting Inspector for the Auckland Police Force.”

  “This is a mistake.”

  “You do not trust him?”

  “I trust no one.”

  “Even your woman?”

  I opened my eyes and saw Chalmers staring at Anna. Anna, for her part, remained a lady and kept her eyes averted.

  “She is the only one I trust,” I said.

  “That, Kelly, is your problem. You have trusted the wrong person.”

  Chalmers turned on his heel and strode out of the cellblock, leaving us with a constable I did not know well in the corner of the room. He was far enough away not to have heard our conversation. But he watched with wary eyes that told me my previous standing with the constabulary was doing me no favours.

  I turned and looked at Anna.

  “You have been very quiet.”

  “I have had nothing to say,” she murmured.

  “That is unexpected.”

  “You think I would speak so freely with ears in the walls.”

  “These walls are safe, you may speak freely. The constable cannot hear us.”

  She lifted her head and finally looked at me. Her face was pale, and shadows haunted her beautiful eyes. She wore a striking dress today in a colour I adored on her. She was the picture of a proper lady surrounded by the filth of my world.

  Like everything Anna Cassidy did, she wore it well.

  “I had a visitor,” she explained.

  I shifted my body to better hear her whispered words.

  “A visitor?”

  The door to the cellblock opened again, and Sergeant Blackmore walked in.

  Turning my attention to the new threat, I corrected myself silently; Acting Inspector Blackmore. It had been the obvious choice; Chalmers had made the decision based on Blackie’s record and his close working relationship with me. I had not voiced my concerns to the superintendent about the sergeant. Anna was, in fact, the only person other than Blackie himself to be aware of the doubt I carried.

  I did not wish to think too much on it but faced with the reality of Blackmore now heading the investigation, I could not stop the thoughts from consuming me.

  “Blackmore,” I said in greeting. My tone had not been inviting.

  Blackie looked over his shoulder at the constable and then determining he was sufficient distance away, walked up to my cell. He nodded his head to Anna, acknowledging her as no other had done this day, and then said, voice low so it would not carry, “What are your instructions, guv?”

  Had I not been already holding myself stiffly, I would have been in need of a chair to support my weakened state. There were certain aspects to James Blackmore’s character that were inviolate. One was his use of the word ‘guv’ as opposed to ‘sir’ when emotionally affected. It was not a conscious thing; Blackie had no idea he said it on occasion. I always knew when my sergeant was pushed to his limits, emotionally compromised, and about to throw a fist at someone or something.

  This was a not a man presenting as the victor in my wife’s sordid and complicated battles.

  This was a friend upset at the course of events and wanting desperately to fix matters.

  I stared at him and then finally found the strength to approach the bars of the cell.

  “It is not you,” I said, matter of factly.

  “What’s that, sir?” he said, returning to his usual mannerisms. Perhaps seeing me capable of speech had alleviated some of his misgivings.

  “You are not her pet with knuckles raw and mannerisms too, and a demon lurking within him.”

  Anna rose from her seat and walked toward my cell, the better to hear and see what was happening. For now, I kept my attention on the sergeant, whose eyes had widened and then bemusedly moistened.

  “No, guv,” he said. “It were never me.”

  “I see that,” I said and Anna let out a huff of air.

  “Truly. Men can be so blind,” she murmured.

  Blackie offered her a smile, and I found myself staring at her with not just a little affection.

  “I have been too close to the crime,” I announced.

  “Of course,” Anna agreed. “And yet no other knows her better than you.”

  The reprimand was gentle but no less effective for its pleasant delivery.

  I turned back to Blackie.

  “She is at large, as is her accomplice,” I advised. “There may be another device; we cannot be certain. But Eliza May always planned for contingencies. Her machinations were never so one dimensional as not to have a backup. Freemans Bay means something. The extortion there needs to be uncovered. We have searched for the murderer to no avail; perhaps if we seek the extortionist, we will have better luck in uncovering Eliza May.”

  “I’ll head there,” Blackie said.

  I opened my mouth to say take Constable Mackey for support and then snapped it closed again when reality hit my heart hard.

  Blackie saw the look on my face, and his own grew shadowed. If I did not hear another ‘guv’ in the next five minutes, he’d be breaking down walls with his fists to free us.

  “Trust no one,” I said instead, for who could he trust in this endeavour?

  “I will not let you down, guv,” he advised, and I let out a breath of air I’d been holding. “Doctor,” he said, tipping his hat. And then he walked from the cellblock, leaving the place far emptier.

  “Don’t say it,” I said, watching my friend go.

  “Say what?”

  “I took long enough to see the truth of it.”

  “You were blinded.”

  “Anna,” I said, turning to face her. “It is not like you
to allow me such leeway. You speak your mind, and it worries me you are not here. Blackie will see to our freedom. He seeks justice, and it will prevail.”

  “Are you sure? This is your wife we’re talking about. I have an alibi, a visitor who can vouch for my whereabouts, not to mention a morning filled with patients and a housekeeper who never misses an opportunity to observe comings and goings on Franklin Street.”

  I frowned at her, considering her words.

  “Then why has Chalmers not released you?”

  Her smile turned sad. The look in her eyes told me I would not like what she had to say.

  “The patients were all from the slums,” she said. The extortionist would see to the majority’s silence. An innate fear of authority would silence the rest. “Mrs Hardwick was tending Mina,” she added. And Wilhelmina Cassidy required constant supervision, making any observations the housekeeper made subject to questionable timelines.

  “And the visitor?” I asked.

  She stepped closer. A look passed across her eyes that I had never before seen. Wariness. Worry. Heartache.

  “Anna, what is it?” I said, wrapping my fingers around her own as she gripped the bars between us.

  She glanced over her shoulder to the constable who was indeed watching, but rather than tell us to step apart, he only crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the far wall. I could not tell if that was acceptance, acquiescence, or merely his lackadaisical nature.

  “You have never described Eliza May to me,” she said, stunning the breath right out of my lungs.

  “You ask that of me now?”

  “Perhaps I should have asked you sooner,” she admitted. “When we heard she was intending to visit our shores. I certainly should have asked you when the cadaver made an appearance in my surgery. I will admit that I did not wish to know of her beauty. To discover her features were superior to mine. I am not accustomed to such fits of jealousy, but where you are concerned, I am incapable of not feeling too much.”

  She licked her lips, pressed herself closer to the bars, her fingers clenching and releasing beneath my hold.

  “You are mine, Andrew Kelly,” she rushed to say. “And I have spent a great deal of time pretending the other woman does not exist. Despite the fact that I am the other woman and she is the wife. I have sinned and am shamed by those sins.”

  “Anna, you take too much upon your shoulders. You are not the one who should carry this guilt.”

  “I have desired a position that is not rightly mine,” she forcefully continued. “I despise the man who has rightly claimed it. I have not turned the other cheek as the Lord tells us. I am not worthy of your love. And yet I cannot imagine a world without you in it, without you being mine. I cannot.”

  “I am yours. Completely.”

  “Then tell me. Tell me of Eliza May.”

  I shook my head, my thumbs caressing her fingers. She needed to know. I should have spoken of this earlier. Forewarned her. Prepared her. For my wretched wife may well work from the shadows, but she is prone to step from them when the time suits her needs.

  My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

  My breaths all but left me.

  Sweat coated my brow.

  “Anna,” I said. “Who was your visitor?”

  “Blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. Aristocratic features. She is slight of build and taller than me by an inch. And she speaks with an uncommonly deep affectation.”

  That was my wife. Beguiling and attractive. Composed and accomplished. A rose with hidden thorns.

  “Who is she?” I rasped.

  Anna let out a soft sound of regret and said, “Mrs John Drummond.”

  She Raises The Axe Above Our Heads

  Anna

  I watched as Andrew’s world crumbled, the realisation of who Eliza May had attached herself to settling deep within his head and heart. He stepped back, away from me, as if to place much-needed space between our bodies. His fists clenched, his muscles bunched, horror and comprehension settling into his paling features. He turned abruptly and paced across the cell, and then in a fit of rage he uplifted the end of his cot and threw the thing against the wall.

  I had never seen Andrew lose control like this. I had never seen such heartache.

  The constable who had been watching from the corner approached cautiously, his billy club in his hand.

  “Sir,” he said. “You need to calm down.”

  Andrew let out a wounded roar and lifted the cot again, slinging it against the cell bars.

  The constable jumped back; the billy club lost to the floor in his hurried escape. The bars did not even buckle, but the unexpectedness of Andrew’s actions shocked the man enough to make him fumble.

  “Sir!” he shouted. “If you do not calm, I shall be forced to call for reinforcements.”

  Why he had not already was puzzling, but I did not have time to work the puzzle out.

  “Andrew,” I said, stepping up to the bar and closer to the inferno. “I know you are angry, but you must cease this. Please,” I begged.

  He slowed in his pacing, his breaths hard puffs of air expelled with unreasonable force. He hung his head, sweat beading his brow, his fists shaking.

  “Drummond,” he said, then turned to the constable. “Get John Drummond in here.”

  “I…” the constable swallowed. “I am not authorised to arrange visitors.”

  Andrew spun around and slammed his fist into the nearest wall, making the skin on his knuckles split, and blood begin to pour from the open wounds onto the cell’s floor.

  I let out a gasp and clenched my hands around the bars between our cells.

  “Andrew!” I cried. He winced, but his eyes remained on the mortified constable.

  “Are you authorised to call the police surgeon if a prisoner is injured?” he enquired.

  The constable gulped and then nodded his head. He rushed to the door of the cellblock in the next breath and called out to someone through it.

  I kept my eyes on Andrew, waiting for a repeat performance. He sucked in air, trying to calm himself; the initial volcanic eruption had passed. All that was left was the destruction it had caused.

  “Let me see your hand,” I said.

  “Anna,” he murmured. But he crossed to my cell and held out his hand. The knuckles were already swelling.

  I gingerly pressed a finger to each one, watching as he grimaced but said nothing. He still had full range of movement, so thankfully nothing was broken.

  “You are an idiot,” I told him.

  “I am sorry.”

  “Your apology is not accepted.”

  “What must I do to earn your favour?”

  I peered up at his face and noticed his eyes were smiling. I huffed out a disgruntled breath of air and said, “I shall think upon it.”

  “I wait with bated breath for your approval.”

  “Andrew,” I said, lowering his hand and shaking my head. “She does not deserve this self-flagellation.”

  “It is not an effort to criticise myself that I do this, but rather a reflection of my rage at her.”

  I arched my brow and then pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and proceeded to wrap the material around his knuckles and hand. Tying the knot as tightly as I dared, I let his hand go and stepped back.

  “It makes a certain kind of sense,” I said.

  “Her choosing Drummond as a puppet?”

  “You think him the murderer?”

  “I do not know what to think other than he harbours a viper.”

  “You were not swayed by her in the past,” I pointed out.

  “I was not a drunkard nor a poltroon.”

  I nodded my head. “What is your plan?”

  “Being as I am confined to a cell, I have only one recourse available to me. I shall confront him.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “I grow desperate,” he admitted. “To end this. To find her. She has us at a disadvantage; pretending we know nothing will not even
the scales. But drawing her out might just make it possible for Blackie to corner her.”

  “She has remained one step ahead of us from the start.” I shook my head and sighed. “When will John Drummond learn his lesson?”

  The Police Surgeon had shared sensitive case information with Ethel Poynton in the past. Aided her, albeit unwittingly, in her pursuit of bloody death in the name of her father. He had only barely saved himself on that occasion, by confessing all in a court of law and taking the public bashing that had followed. His close friendship with the superintendent had not harmed him at all, but I was not sure how he would escape the mayor’s justice on this occasion. And that was assuming he had been duped as he had been in the past.

  “We shall see if he is the man he needs to be in due course,” Andrew muttered.

  He turned and righted the cot. It was bent from his attentions, and he did not bother to straighten the metal legs again. He placed it at the rear of the cell and began to pace. I hoped Dr Drummond was in the station; otherwise, Andrew may well pace himself into a cot-throwing rage again.

  My fears were unfounded as the door to the cellblock opened a short while later and in walked John Drummond. He had a proud look to his step, a confidence he rarely wore when in the presence of Andrew Kelly. He looked down his nose at me and smirked, and then walked up to Andrew’s cell door as if he had nothing to fear in the world.

  “Heard you needed medical attention, Kelly,” he growled. “Guilt beating you up?” He laughed. It was too loud and sounded slightly forced. He was nervous facing Andrew, I realised.

  Theirs had been a difficult association from the start. Andrew’s close friendship with my father, Drummond’s predecessor, had meant there was an inequality in their working relationship from the start. Drummond had been jealous of the unconditional support Andrew as Chief Inspector had given my father. And had made his jealousy known in the way he interacted with Andrew on the job.

  Andrew for his part had disliked Drummond immediately upon making his acquaintance. I did not know for certain why, but I suspected it was because of Drummond’s constant derogatory statements regarding my abilities as a physician.

  I pitied the man, but if he were the murderer, working at Eliza May’s behest, then he deserved everything he got.