The Connicle Curse (11 page)

“W
e are wasting away up here, Mrs. Behmoth. Any chance of getting some lunch before nightfall?” Colin's evident frustration had boiled beyond the point of civility the moment I told him about Randolph's illusory comment concerning Mrs. Connicle and what she may have seen near Covington Market.

“Ya ask me that way again and I'll bloody well toss this tray out the winda,” came the hurtled reply.

“So you've got it on a tray then?” he snapped back, pounding away from the landing and dropping back to the floor to blast out several dozen more push-ups. He admitted to having been doing them since returning from the Hutton home, where Charlotte Hutton had readily acknowledged that her husband had indeed lost a pinky ring with a diamond
H
several weeks ago. Rather than being unnerved, however, Mr. Hutton had apparently dismissed the episode with a blistering glance at his wife. It had obviously annoyed Colin and I knew Mr. Hutton would likely come to regret that.

“We know Mrs. Connicle is prone to hysterics!” Colin groused with unreserved agitation as he bolted up from the floor the moment Mrs. Behmoth came into the room. “But to have her driver say such a thing makes me wonder if he's not trying to lead us astray. Or perhaps he has some motive in ensuring she believes such a thing could be true.” He swept the tray of finger sandwiches, cut fruit, and tea from Mrs. Behmoth and set it skittering onto the table near me.

“Mind how ya treat the ruddy dishes,” she griped, her meaty fists on her hips.

“I promise to get it all back to you in one piece,” I said.

“See that ya do.” She scowled at Colin before thundering back downstairs.

“I need to see Edmond Connicle's autopsy report,” he grumbled, snatching up two of the sandwiches and downing them almost without chewing.

“You've got the magistrate's order,” I reminded. “You can see whatever you wish.”

“Yes, yes,” he muttered absently as he handed me a napkin full of sandwiches. “We'll just have to go and visit that twit, Denton Ross. I despise him and his morgue.” Colin turned and glared at me, and I knew what he was going to say next. “We'll go and get the report. Together. Maybe take another look at the remains. If our client is going to start seeing her husband's ghost then we've got to give her proof of his death.”

“And what of Randolph?”

“What indeed . . .” Colin gave me a scowl and grabbed another sandwich and his tea as he stalked over to the fireplace. “I'll speak with him. I'll find out what the hell he's blathering on about. He's probably just gotten caught up in his mistress's hysteria. I hope so for his sake.”

I nodded. The thought that Randolph might have some ulterior motive had not occurred to me. “And when do you intend for us to go to the morgue?”

“At once.” He gulped down his tea and fairly slammed the cup onto the mantel.

The watercress sandwich I'd been chewing curdled in my mouth. I loathe the stench and sight of his morgue but have even less enthusiasm for Denton Ross himself. “I haven't even told you about Sunny Guitnu yet,” I said, set on stalling him as long as I could.

“Let's be off.” He tugged on his jacket. “You can tell me on the way.”

As much as I wanted to protest, to find some way to delay the inevitable, I knew there was no sense in it. So, quicker than my heart was ready, we were in the back of a carriage heading to the drab, stone-block medical building that housed the County of London morgue in its bowels. I relayed everything I had seen of Sunny Guitnu, and just as I had suspected, the first thing Colin said was, “We must find this detestable young cabdriver.”

I could not suppress a smile. “I thought you might be interested in him, so I gave your little underling an extra half crown to follow the young man when he left. See where he goes. Where he lives.”

“Brilliant,” he muttered as he gazed out at the soot-blackened buildings crowding past as we drew nearer to the morgue. I could see that he was deep in thought and wondered if he too was considering how unpleasant this was going to be. That Denton would most certainly do his utmost to try to find a way to thwart us.

I kept quiet until we had pushed our way through the double doors and, as always, the pungent scent of death struck us like a physical blow. It cloyed inside the nostrils with such intensity that it seemed every pore had to be absorbing the stink of it. My eyes stung and my tongue felt like it was swelling with the effort to keep my throat from becoming coated with it. I fought the urge to gag as I glanced at Colin and noticed that he had taken on a grayish cast himself. “I hate this place!” I growled.

“It serves a purpose,” he bothered to reply before pounding the bell on the front countertop. That singular note, high-pitched and jarring, was enough to momentarily shift my brain from the distastefulness at hand. It would do no good for Denton to find us with our lips curled and eyes glazed.

A moment later a tall, painfully thin man with a heavily pocked, angular face shoved through the doors behind the counter and leveled a spare, disinterested look at us. He was wearing a leather apron atop a white smock that was splattered with all manner of unrecognizable effluvium. “What?” was all he said.

Colin gave a warm, easy smile. “I'm Colin Pendragon and this is—” But he got no further before the sour man interrupted him.

“I know who you are.”

Colin's smile widened unnaturally. “Very well. Then I presume we can dispense with the frivolities and get right to the business at hand.”

“What's going on, Mr. Armsted? Who is it?” Denton Ross's pinched, nasal voice drifted out from the back, setting my stomach on a round of dissent. Before his assistant could respond Denton pushed his way through the doors with his usual display of irritation. He too was wearing a gore-smeared leather apron over a long white smock, but he also had on gloves that were coated in a rust-colored ooze from the tips of his fingers to the middle of his wrists. “Oh.” His lips curled. “You two.”

“Well . . .” Colin glanced from the unmoving face of Mr. Armsted to the disapproving visage of Denton Ross. “Hardly the welcome we were hoping for.”

“Whatever would make you think you'd be welcome?” Denton sneered.

Colin plastered on his smile again. “I would agree there is much mileage between us, the enchanting Mr. Armsted notwithstanding, but I thought perhaps it time for us to put such things in the past.”

“Such things . . . ?” Denton seethed. “Is that how you characterize your treatment of me? Playing me for a fool and ridiculing my character?”

Colin seemed to ponder Denton's words a moment, though I doubted he did so in earnest. After all, we did still have the magistrate's order. “When I suggested you might be mistaken about the cause of death of the Connicles' groundsman,” he said with much forced integrity, “I never meant to offer up any sort of ridicule—”

“A pox on you, Pendragon!” Denton roared. “You and your blasted Pruitt!”

“Now you see . . .” Colin maintained his dubious grin as he took a single step forward. “One moment you are lamenting your fine character and the next you're attacking the one person for whom I would gladly disembowel you.”

Denton's bulbous eyes stretched the boundaries of their sockets even as Mr. Armsted feinted back slightly.
“Get out!”
Denton seethed. “Or I'll have the Yard toss your ass in jail again!”

“Really?” Colin scowled. “Can we not find some modicum of civility here?”

“Piss off.”

“You know we have a magistrate's order.” He turned to me. “Show it to him.”

My heart seized as I stared back at Colin blankly. “I thought you had it.”

Colin's lips pinched as he swung back on Denton. “You saw it at the Connicles' house yesterday. Don't be a ruddy ass.”

Denton shrugged with a jackal's smile. “Did I? I'm sure I don't recall. You'd best toddle on home and fetch it.” He glanced at the clock on the far end of the counter. “Of course we close at three. You'll likely have to come back tomorrow. Pity that.”

“Bollocks!”
Colin snarled. “Are you really going to be such a bloody tosser?”

“Oh.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Quite.”

Before I could think to raise my own protest, Colin turned on his heel and stormed from the room. Only then did I once more become aware of the cold, putrid air as I stared mutely across the counter at Denton Ross's ecstatic smirk.

P
aul's eyes were riveted on Colin's right hand as he carelessly spun a crown between his fingers. He was clearly deep in thought as he stared out the carriage window, his hand moving without the slightest hint of consciousness on his part, while Paul watched his movements as though they were an endlessly profound bit of magic. At first I figured the little urchin merely yearning for the coin, but then I noticed him trying to mimic Colin's actions with the half crown he'd just earned. It was a clever trick for a street lad to learn and I knew the rascal appreciated that fact as well.

“It isn't good to pick up bad habits,” I admonished.

“What?” Colin turned back and stared idly at the two of us.

“Paul is studying how you flip that coin about.”

He glanced down at his hand with a vacant look. “Oh.” He shoved the crown back into his vest pocket. “Helps me think,” he muttered as he set his gaze outside again. “I can teach you sometime if you'd like.”

I was about to protest when Paul abruptly slammed the roof of the coach with his fist and announced that we had arrived. We had come all the way up to Lisson Grove, where one slim four-story tenement hugged the next and the only nod to there ever having been groves was the postage-stamp-sized bits of weed and dirt out front.

“You followed that young cabbie from Sundha Guitnu's school all the way up here?” Colin turned to Paul with a dubious gaze.

“ 'Oo?”

“The young lady at the library,” I answered.

“Bloody well right,” he said as he shoved the coin he'd earned up his left sleeve. “'At's why I were tellin' ya I oughta earn a shillin' or two more. Cost me a sack a change ta come all this way.”

I tossed him a skeptical look. “I'll bet you stole your transportation on whichever back bumper suited the direction you needed to go.”

Paul scowled at me even as Colin waved us both off. “Why don't we make sure this is the right place before you start bartering for more money.”

“Oh, it's right as rhubarb,” Paul said as he shoved past Colin to jump out of the carriage first. “Ya got nothin' ta worry 'bout.”

Colin chuckled as he climbed out. “Right as rhubarb?”

Paul led us to a flat on the second floor near the back. The building was well cared for, if modest, and looked aged by some forty or fifty years. This cabdriver, whoever he was, obviously came from solid working-class stock.

Colin gave Paul another shilling before shooing him off, with the promise of further recompense if everything bore out as he'd said it would. As soon as the boy scampered away, Colin turned and knocked on the door. It took several moments for someone to answer, but as the door yawed open I saw at once that Paul had indeed earned his fee. Before us stood the same pasty, redheaded rogue with the long face and aquiline nose that I had seen extorting jewelry from Sunny Guitnu at the university library.

Colin slid his eyes to me and I gave the slightest nod. “Good afternoon,” he said, offering a warm smile. “My name is Colin Pendragon and this is my associate, Ethan Pruitt. I'm a detective working on behalf of Mr. Prakhasa Guitnu regarding a most insidious theft—”

“Who?” The young man cut Colin off with a frown, though I could see that his fingers had tightened around the doorknob.

“He has a daughter named Sundha,” Colin went on. “I understand you are acquainted with her?”

Before he could answer, a worn woman of middle years came up behind him, peeking over his shoulder at the two of us. “Who is it, Cillian?”

Colin's face lit up as he offered the woman his best dimpled smile. “Colin Pendragon and Ethan Pruitt at your service.”

“Colin Pendragon?!”
Her hand went up to her mouth as she gasped. “I know ya from the papers. I dun't believe it!” She elbowed poor Cillian aside as she swung the door wide. “Come in.” She flushed as Colin and I crossed the threshold. “I jest dun't believe it. Wait'll me girls hear about this.” Her smile looked about to rend her face as she waved us into the sparse but immaculate sitting room. “I never thought we'd have a famous man in our little flat.” She turned back to Cillian, still hovering at the door. “Come away from there and fetch us some tea, boy. Where're your manners?”

“You mustn't fuss,” Colin said as he took a seat across from the woman. “In truth, it's your Cillian we've come to see.”

“Cillian?!” She shifted her eyes to him and her brow curled down. “Has he done somethin'? I'll clock his arse if he has. He knows better.”

“Not at all.” Colin gave an easy laugh that seemed to assuage her. “In fact, your boy's done a great turn on a small case we're involved with. You must be quite proud of him.”

“Most days,” she answered warily. “He is a good lad. Been helpin' provide for us since his da passed away when he were jest a tot.” Her smile began to waver. “Is this anythin' I need ta be worried about?”

“Not in the least. But we would appreciate just a few minutes with your son alone. I'm sure you understand.” He glanced at Cillian, who had still done little more than take a single step from the door, making me wonder if he was considering an attempt to flee.

“A course.” She exhaled as she stood up. “Then I'll be the one ta fetch the tea. Ya make yerselves ta home. Dun't mind me.” She scuttled out of the room but not before jerking her chin at her son in an obvious effort to get him into the room.

“Please don't trouble yourself,” Colin called after her. “We won't take a moment more of your Cillian's time than we must.” He glanced back at the young man and dropped his voice. “Will you
please
come in here and sit down.”

“What's this about?” he shot back, his eyes darting nervously even as he finally came in to join us. “I don't know about any theft.”

“You were seen by Mr. Pruitt this very day with Sundha Guitnu at the university library.”

“So?”

Colin's eyebrows drifted up as he glanced at me. “Ah. A step in the right direction.”

“You were arguing with her,” I said. “And after a minute she paid you off with a piece of jewelry. Most certainly one of her father's pieces. That is called extortion.”

Cillian's face went slack as he looked from me to Colin before leaning forward and rubbing a hand across his forehead. His fiery hair contrasted sharply with the waxen discomfort that had settled on his face, and suddenly I found myself feeling unaccountably sorry for him. “You have it all wrong,” he muttered in a near whisper. “I love Sunny.” He lifted his eyes back to us and I could see a kaleidoscope of pain, fear, and yearning in them. “I've asked her to marry me.”

“Oh . . .” Colin said grimly as I felt my own heart sink, mortified that I had been so wrong about what I thought I had seen.

Cillian seemed unable to continue, so it was a great relief when his mother ambled back into the room with a tray. “Here you go, gentlemen.” She smiled proudly as she placed the tray of tea and ginger biscuits on the table between us. “Take yer time. I'll be in me room should ya need anythin' else.” Her eyes flicked to her son as she left, and I could see the concern in them.

“Your mother is a fine woman,” Colin said as he picked up his tea and sipped at it a moment. “Now tell us about you and Sundha.”

“Sunny and I . . .” His words came uneasily, his eyes remaining fixed to the floor. “We are in love.” He spoke with immense gravity as though determining the fate of the world, and in a way I suppose for him that was true. “It is the simple truth.” He pulled an old, heavily creased piece of paper from his wallet and handed it over to Colin.
I love you forever, Cillian,
it said in a florid girl's handwriting,
come what may
. It was signed by Sunny.

“Come what may,”
Colin read aloud. “I suppose that includes stealing from her father?”

“What does he care?” Cillian yanked the note back as though Colin's very breath might soil it. “He has plenty of money. Have you seen the way they live? And he's certain to disown Sunny when he finds out. So I'm saving him a costly dowry. He ought to thank me.”

“I very much doubt he will see it that way.”

Cillian spun on Colin with a savage glare. “And what do you know about any of it? A stodgy old sod like you hasn't any idea what it's like to be in love. To feel passion so intense it threatens to burn your very soul. I'll not live without Sunny and she feels the same about me.”

Colin looked as stunned as I felt by the young man's sudden outburst. However, I was still surprised when all he said was, “Stodgy old sod?!”

The fire that flushed Cillian's cheeks dissipated as he stared at Colin, and it took only a moment more before he sagged back into his chair and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I
love
Sunny. I think about her all the time and am only happy,
truly
happy, when we're together. She's the first thought of my day and the last at night. If I can't be with her . . .” He let his voice trail off pitifully.

Colin heaved a sigh. “How old are you, Cillian?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Answer the question.”

“Nineteen!” he snapped. “Responsible enough to be driving a cab for over a year now.”

Colin smiled. “If only being married were like driving a cab.” Cillian's face went dark, but before he could say anything Colin's hand came up to hold him off. “The point is . . .” Colin went on in a calm, measured tone, “I did not fall in love until I was twenty-four. Can you imagine? I was already resigned to spending the whole of my life alone. Then the most wondrous person came back into my life and I thought I would lose my mind if we could not be together. And there was much against us at first, but I knew . . . we knew . . . there could be no other way for us. So yes, even though you perceive me a stodgy old sod, I do understand the depths of what you feel. But I also know that love will not provide you shelter, nor put food in your babies' mouths, nor shield you from the stares and judgments of those who despise what they perceive you to be. So do not
ever
underestimate the realities of the decision you are making. For yourself and for Sundha.

“Ask yourself what will happen when your passions abate? Or how she will feel when her family refuses to acknowledge her? Or when your babies come and you live in a flat smaller than the room Sundha now sleeps in?” He leaned forward. “But most of all, how long do you think either of you will be able to tolerate the glares of people who revile you simply because the colors of your skin do not match? What do you imagine will happen to all that love you're drowning in then?”

“What about that love of yours?” Cillian shot back defiantly. “You said there was much against you at first, but neither of you cared. Why should you be able to marry and fulfill your desires when we should not?”

Colin kept his eyes locked on Cillian. “I am not married. My decision to be with the person I love is fraught with risk every day. But it is one we made together, knowing what the consequences were.”

My heart froze as I watched Cillian's brow furrow, hoping Colin's inference had been lost on him. “And so it is with us,” he finally announced with great surety. “Nothing you can say will dissuade us.”

“Very well.” Colin leaned back with a tight smile. “You may do as you wish, but you cannot start your lives together by having Sundha steal from her father.”

“I am not having her do anything,” Cillian insisted. “It was
her
idea.”

“Whichever the case, the outcome remains the same.”

“You think we are foolish and without a proper thought, but we have already considered everything you seek to frighten us with. Sunny knows I drive a cab just as she is aware that her father has more money than he can ever use. A third of which would be hers one day were she to accept his every dictate. So she is taking a small part of what already belongs to her to help us get a modest start. I don't see where that is so wrong.”

“It is stealing,” Colin answered plainly. “A third of the Guitnu estate belongs to Sundha only if her parents decide it is hers. It is not for her to take as she wishes. Especially when she knows with every certainty that she is defying their will. Tell me your mother didn't teach you that long before you knew anything about the unreasonableness of love.”

Cillian's jaw set tight as he gazed off between us and I could tell he was struggling with how to respond.

“Does your mother know about you and Sundha?”

“I will tell her when everything is ready. She'll stay with us. Sunny and I have already decided it.”

“I should think she will be greatly disappointed to hear what the two of you have done,” Colin said.

“It's all very easy for you,” Cillian responded with great defense. “You got what you wanted. Yet you would have me and Sunny turn away from each other to settle for a life of regret.”

Colin shifted in his chair as he leaned toward Cillian again, his eyes holding the younger man's with an inescapable intensity. “Have I once told you to turn away from Sundha?”

Cillian blinked but did not respond. And even as I reconsidered Colin's many words of caution, I realized that he had not.

“I am only asking that you search your brimming heart and decide whether it is the young lady you truly love, or her father's sparkling gems?”

Cillian recoiled as though he'd been struck. “I love
her,
” he seethed.