Hounds of Autumn (26 page)

The creature contained items that Chloe remembered from the schematics that Inspector Lockton had allowed her to see, but there was more. Oh, so much more. But for what purpose exactly was this extra processing unit? And why were there too many connection wires, and each marked with a different color ink, all leading from the hound’s head?

She moved on to its abdomen and the panel that had been covered by the cloth with the dark bone button. She had not noticed it before in her search for a power switch, but this was very strange. The metal panel closure was too simple, just a hook pivoting on a screw into a small metal eye. There were scratches all around it, as if someone had fumbled with it over and over. She glanced at the hound’s feet and then pried apart its toes experimentally. Once straightened, the toes were much longer and more nimble than they at first appeared. She turned back and opened the panel and removed the module behind the panel, setting it aside.

“There you are,” she whispered, leaning down close to peer inside the hound.

The battery was marvelous, and now she really did wish she had a notebook. The hound’s battery fluid was low, which she could have guessed before opening it. The hound would never have succeeded in creating an alkaline solution for itself and then somehow getting it inside its body. At least she didn’t think so.

The door opened and a thin young man came in. She recognized him from the front desk.

“Is everyone else gone?” she asked.

“Most of them went back on duty around town. After you finish getting that thing shut off, then you’ll have to wait in the cell.”

“I know.”

“What’s that there?” He pointed to the module that she had set aside in her excitement to see the battery.

“I’m not sure.”

She opened it. Spools. There were two rows of brass spools. They all snapped into the larger module and she saw where the disconnected wires led from the spools into the main processing engine. And there was another part that led into what she had previously thought was an extraneous processing engine. She bent down close over the hound, not caring if her ample derriere stuck up in the air.

The extra wires, the eye apertures, the extra processing unit. She pulled open the hound’s head and disassembled it with trembling hands.

“Oh God. This is—this is incredible.”

“What is?”

She paused. “I’m going to prove that Dora Aynesworth is a murderer.”

Chapter 43

“W
ell, you’ll have to speak
with the sergeant about that in the morning.”

“The morning?” Chloe pulled out her pocket watch. It was half past seven. How in the world had time flown so quickly? She must have been working on the hound for hours.

“I really must speak with the sergeant immediately, or at least Inspector Lockton. I can’t wait for morning.” By morning, Dora could be gone, or she could bring forward more accusations that would need to be disproven. The hounds were circling, but she would not let Dora win.

“Both the inspector and the sergeant will have gone home by now. It’s just us and a few of the men on duty. Nothing to do until morning.”

The young man sighed and leaned back in a chair next to the door. Her cell door was open, and Chloe studied the locking mechanism. She had enough sense to know that even if she had a hairpin somewhere in the bottom of her bag, she couldn’t pick the lock.

But she had an idea. She worked fast, but with care, taking parts out of the hound and assembling them. She worked on her mechanism carefully, concealing the tiny thing behind the hound’s body or under the edge of her skirt. The guard tipped his chair back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Half an hour later, Chloe put the last pieces of the hound back together but left off the cloth cover. She had surreptitiously slipped all eight spools into her reticule, which now bulged. She hoped the guard would not notice.

In her palm was the small mechanism that was her only hope.

“Excuse me, but do you think I could get something to eat? I haven’t had any supper at all.”

The guard opened his eyes. “Oh, yes. I can get you something in a minute. I have to lock you in first though.” He studied her with concern. Perhaps he was unused to dealing with upper class ladies or women of any sort. She did her best to look vulnerable and frightened, which in a way, she was. But the dark thing within her was calm and felt no such emotions.

“Can I take that thing out of there?” He came into the cell, looking at the hound as if it might still leap up at him.

“It won’t turn back on. I made sure.”

It had hurt her to cannibalize the hound’s parts for her mechanism, but she was fairly sure she could reassemble it later. If there was a later.

The guard dragged the hound out of the cell while Chloe backed herself up against the receiving end of the cell door locking mechanism. She lost no time and stood with her hands behind her, working as fast as she dared. She blessed the extra pounds around her waist that helped conceal her hands.

“How long do you think I’ll be in here?” she asked.

“No telling. But hopefully you’ll be out in the morning.” She could tell that he didn’t believe it, but she needed to keep him talking.

“Do you really think so? Dora murdered my husband, and I need to talk to the inspector or the sergeant. Can’t they be brought in?”

“No, mum. The sergeant specifically told me he would not be in until morning.”

He stepped forward, keys in hand.

“Are your superiors pressing the police to make an arrest? Is that why you had to bring in Mr. Granger and me? So it looks like you are making progress on the murders?”

He appeared startled. “Now look here. This police force is a good one. They wouldn’t accuse anyone without good reason.”

“I’m sure,” she said. “But all the same, I understand that there can be pressure exerted from the top. For example, I saw that Inspector Lockton wasn’t happy with the development. He doesn’t believe I am guilty.”

“He seems to like you. I know he asked for your help with a piece of evidence they found. He maybe wishes you were innocent.”

“I doubt he would be so unprofessional as to let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Now, do you still want something to eat? I’ll get one of the men out front to bring something.”

He pulled the keys from his belt, but she still needed more time.

“Please,” she said, changing tactic. “I’m too frightened to be locked up.”

He paused, and she felt a moment of guilt as she saw pity in his face.

“I’m sorry, but I have to,” he said.

A piece of the mechanism slipped under her fingers. She gave a little gasp, and barely managed to catch it. The young man misinterpreted the sound as fear.

“Don’t worry, now. No one will harm you.”

“I don’t know,” she said, letting her voice take on a tone of slight panic. “I—I have never been in a place like this, where common criminals have been kept.”

The fumbled piece was in place, and she now needed to get one final pin through it to make it hold.

“Have you held murderers in this cell? Real killers? Like the Ripper?” She looked around the cell as if one such killer might be still there.

“No, no Ripper here. It’s perfectly safe. Why don’t you sit down now? It will be all right.”

The last pin was in place. She lowered herself onto the bed and the cell door clanked closed. The guard left, and the dark part of her told her to stay calm so she did not make a mistake.

She slipped the reticule’s strap across her body so it would be secure and got to work. The still voice inside her told her she had to twist the small mechanism slowly, very slowly, and at exactly the right angle so the pieces would not break off inside. Seconds ticked by, and she was almost sure she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Her focus did not waver.

The mechanism made a sharp snapping sound and she pulled the door. It did not move, but she was close. She worked at it again, this time hearing a satisfying clank. She eased the door open and slipped into the hall.

She did not stop to look, for even if someone had spied her, she would not have stopped. Lockton’s office, said the dark part of her. The inspector was at the Aynesworth house and would not be there. She had just closed Lockton’s office door behind her when she heard two voices in the hallway.

No time. She flung open the window and threw one leg out. She managed to get her split skirts through and was glad she was not wearing heavy petticoats or, heaven forbid, a bustle. She let herself out the rest of the way, and most of her body was hanging into the alleyway before her toes touched the ground.

A moment later, she was off running. She raced past stinking garbage bins and assorted alleyway detritus. She cut down a side alley, turned and ran until she reached the railway station.

Where was the blasted thing? The steamcycle was not where she had left it and she raced around the side of the station. Any moment now, police officers would be out looking for her, and she had to be out of town by then.

She saw pair of workers loading crates. “You there! Where is the steamcycle?”

They looked at her as if she were speaking in Swahili.

“The bicycle, with the motor. Like a motorcar?”

“Over there. We haven’t crated it yet.”

The steamcycle was to one side, behind a stack of boxes. She guided it out to an open space, silently apologizing to the engine, which she hoped had enough water inside to cool it. She lighted the burner and gave the flywheel a spin to set it in motion. The roar of the engine was beautiful.

She tore out of town, her hair flying behind her and her eyes squinting into the wind. She had left her goggles in the rear basket, but could put them on later. For now, she had one goal: the mine.

Once she got as close to the mine as the road allowed, she opened the basket, dumped all the spools from her reticule into her satchel and flung it over her shoulder. She then found the lantern, lit it and raced toward the entrance. Already, there would be officers en route to the Aynesworth house and the more there were, the harder it would be for her to accomplish her mission.

She had the feeling again of being watched, but did not pause. If the moor liked her so much, as Mad Maggie had said, then she could use some help about now. A crow cawed. It was perched at the top of the mine entrance.

The inside of the mine was muddy and wet. New hunks of earth were all over the ground. Parts of the roof had come loose, but Chloe did not pause. Once she was in the side tunnel, her boots were sucked ankle-deep into the mud. She slopped ahead.

The crate was in its place, though sunk a few inches into the mud. She held the lantern aloft. The spools were still there, and she gathered all four of them and shoved them into her satchel.

She now understood how the hound could see in the darkness of the mine. Among other things, it had in its optical apertures a tiny light-emitting device that would probably be adequate to see in very dark places. She wondered why it had not used it at the stone circle. Then again, the light of the full moon might alone have been enough to illuminate the landscape.

But there had been something else in the hound’s construction that had been far more critical. There were optical pathways that led to an image capturing and storage system. It was a sort of camera.

Chapter 44

S
he had to abandon the
steamcycle far from the house lest the roar of the engine alert everyone to her arrival. She ran, not daring to use the main road for fear of being seen. It became cooler, as it had at the stone circle, and she felt the soft caress of the damp air on her skin.

Mad Maggie had said that things here on the moor did not change, while things in London did. And Chloe knew that with her modern machinery, she herself was a part of that change. But perhaps she had lost touch with something older and more primal. This place was wild and dangerous, and though some streets of London could be deadly as well, it was in a different way. There were strange places here, like the stone circle, the mines and bogs and there were large, empty places where a person could become lost. There were few places in London where one could be completely alone, and here, it wasn’t any different. The moor was watching. She knew that now. But she didn’t mind. She welcomed it.

She heard a snuffling sound, then a soft nicker. She froze and looked back along the road, expecting to see a constable on horseback, but no one was there. Up ahead, something moving was blocking the road. She crept closer, keeping to the dark and hidden places.

A herd of ponies was blocking the road. A sturdy little mare raised her head, her dark eyes meeting Chloe’s. She tossed her gray mane and gave a soft whinny, baring her large, blocky teeth. Well, Mad Maggie had said that the moor liked her. She ran on.

No sooner had Chloe passed the ponies than she heard hoofbeats. Two constables on horseback were galloping toward the Aynesworth house, but they pulled up short at the ponies. As she ran, she heard them shouting at the animals to clear the road. Then she heard one of them yell something about bees. She didn’t stay to listen.

She rounded the back of the house and slipped through the servants’ entrance. After climbing the servants’ staircase, she tore through the house toward her laboratory. The door was ajar. She entered and turned to lock the door, but there was no lock.

“Brrr?”

She lit the gaslight on her work table and found Ambrose’s spool playback machine. She had just opened the case when the door opened. Chloe spun around to find Miss Haynes.

“I thought I heard something,” Miss Haynes said. “Then I saw the light under the door.”

One of the bookshelves that had held Ambrose’s possessions had been emptied and covered with a dust cloth. Miss Haynes pulled off the cloth, threw it to the ground and kicked it to block the crack under the door. Chloe set up the spool playback machine on Ambrose’s desk, facing it towards the wall beside the door. She emptied the spools from her satchel.

“We have to play these. One of them has what we want.”

Chloe threaded the first spool in the machine and when she stepped back, Miss Haynes cranked the handle, making a ratcheting sound. The bulb glowed orange, burned gradually to white and then a grainy brown and white image appeared on the far wall. It was Camille, glowing with life, smiling and pointing to the flowers blooming in her greenhouse. She moved from plant to plant, turning toward the camera, pointing at each pot. Though there was no sound on the recording, Chloe knew she was describing each plant as one would for a child.

“This isn’t it.” She pulled the spool out, careful to avoid the hot bulb, and threaded a new one.

This one showed Camille in her laboratory, and Chloe recognized the hound’s battery on the table in front of her. The hound must have had a second battery inside it while Camille recharged the original. Camille pointed to something inside the battery, and the image grew larger as the hound moved closer to see.

Chloe pulled that spool out also and was threading the next when the door crashed open.

“I told you I heard something,” said Dora, standing in the doorway, a lamp in her hand. She strode in with a constable, Ian and Alexander. Where was the second constable Chloe had seen on the road?

“What is this?” said Ian, putting up a hand to shield his eyes from the light pointed at them.

“It’s a projector. The spools are from the interior of the hound, and one of them shows Dora killing Camille Granger.”

“This is madness,” said Alexander, turning on a gaslight on a nearby table.

Chloe recognized the constable as the one who had used the cricket bat. He stepped forward.

“Mrs. Sullivan, I am placing you under arrest.”

She backed away, and Miss Haynes, bless her soul, cranked the handle, saw that the next image was not what her mistress had described and threaded the next spool. Dora also saw the attempt and tore the next spool from the machine. She pulled the protruding film out in one long coil and took the glass cover from the top of her light. She then flung her lamp into the cold fireplace where it crashed into flames. The flames licked at a number of crumpled papers that Ambrose or Mr. Frick must have tossed in and the flames grew. Dora tossed the coil of film into the fire. It writhed and melted in on itself.

The officer grabbed Chloe’s arm and she tried to yank free. “Ian!” she called. “You have to see what is on the spools. Don’t let her destroy them!”

“Brrr?”

Miss Haynes had threaded the next spool and was cranking the handle when Dora shoved her aside and went to pull it out of the machine. Miss Haynes regained her balance and pushed down on Dora’s hand, forcing her to press hard on the burning bulb. Dora howled a curse and after cradling her hand for a moment, struck Miss Haynes across the face, sending her staggering backward. She bumped the table and a spool fell to the floor and rolled away.

More people were in the room now, and the voices churned together into a cacophony of shouts.

“You have to let me play them!” Chloe pleaded with the constable, but his attention was on the other two women.

Miss Haynes went again for the spools, trying to gather the remaining ones into her arms to protect them, but Dora shoved her aside. The lady’s maid lost her balance, caught her foot on the edge of the carpet and fell hard on her backside. The constable released Chloe for an instant, instinctively stepping toward Miss Haynes who, though resourceful and determined, still looked every inch the vulnerable female. Dora towered over Miss Haynes, and the constable insinuated himself between them.

Miss Haynes was getting up with the constable’s help, so she must be all right, Chloe reasoned. Chloe ran back to the machine and grabbed the next spool.

Dora turned from the constable and tore the spool from Chloe’s hand. Dora had the advantage of height, but Chloe had a good two stone on her and she threw her weight into Dora, pushing her down on the desk which quaked under their combined impact.

Chloe made a grab for the spool, but Dora elbowed her hard in the ribs. Dull pain spread through her side, but her whalebone corset took the brunt of the impact. Dora bucked and broke free. She made for the fireplace, ripping the film out of the spool as she went. Chloe tried to pull her back, but strong arms restrained her and Dora tossed the film into the flames.

The shouting was louder now, but Chloe did not heed the words being screamed back and forth. The dark thing within her was roaring. She had only one purpose.

Miss Haynes was back at the projector when Dora turned back. Chloe elbowed the person holding her and kicked with the heel of her boot. She heard a grunt and was free. Chloe caught a glimpse of blue serge, and knew where the second constable was.

“That’s enough of that,” growled Dora as she rushed forward and yanked Miss Haynes backward by the hair. The large constable pulled Dora away, dragging her backwards as Miss Haynes regained her composure and cranked the handle.

“Brrr?”

“Don’t you touch my daughter!” shouted William at the constable as Dora cried out piteously.

Chloe let them argue. Dora was now screaming and Miss Haynes pulled the spool out of the projector as Chloe grabbed the next in line. A second scream joined Dora’s, an unnatural sound, as high and unwavering as a train whistle.

Chloe knew what it was, but glanced up anyway. Giles must have been on top of the nearby bookshelf as he was now wrapped around Dora’s head, yowling and clinging with all his might. Some of Dora’s hair had fallen down over her shoulders in thin dark coils, but Chloe knew that even the generous amount left on top of her head would not protect her from the cat’s claws. Ian was trying to pull the cat off, but Giles clawed and ripped again, tearing at her ears, face and neck. Chloe heard Robert yell her name.

Ian managed to pull the cat from his sister’s head, but Giles thrashed so wildly that Ian was forced to release him. The cat pushed off of Ian and leapt onto the table, knocking over the lamp that Alexander had lit and sending it rolling off the desk. It hit the floor and shattered at the base of the window. A few agonizing seconds passed as smoke curled up from the carpet and then a flame blazed. The flame caught the curtains and climbed.

Robert stomped the carpet, and others were tearing the curtains down and stomping them. Chloe cranked the projector handle, but the mass of people running back and forth prevented her from seeing what was on the wall. Someone called for water, but the flames were already out.

Dora was beside Chloe in a moment, dragging the constable by the arm.

“Arrest her!” Dora’s face was mottled and her hair was wild. Blood was beading up from the long thin cuts along her face and neck.

The constable hesitated.

“I know it was you,” said Chloe. “And I know why you did it. Mr. Graves. The blackmail. And the pennyroyal tea.”

She saw a flicker of something behind Dora’s eyes. Then her face grew wild and her lips pulled back from her teeth. She gave a roar, guttural and terrible and launched herself at Chloe. Her momentum pushed both women against the wall. Chloe’s world blurred and her ears roared as Dora struck her across the face again and again. Pain exploded from her nose, the side of her face and her mouth. Chloe got one hard strike at Dora and had just registered the metallic taste of blood when Dora was gone. The constable had her arms pulled behind her back. Aside from Dora’s curses, the room had fallen silent, absolutely silent. Dora turned to look at something.

All Chloe heard was the blood pounding in her ears and the ratcheting sound of the projector. Miss Haynes was motionless with her eyes fixed on the far wall and the constable eventually turned as well.

Alexander was turning the handle. On the wall was the back of a dark-haired woman, kneeling over the prostrate form of a blonde woman who was motionless on the ground, a broken zoetrope on the ground nearby. The camera moved now and then, blurring and refocusing on the image, but there was no mistaking the dark-haired woman’s arms as they rose and fell over and over, until they slowed and stopped. She heaved aside a rock that was light with dark smears. She rose and stood for a long time, looking at the dead woman at her feet.