The Connicle Curse (24 page)

“What?” Colin mumbled, any mirth gone from his eyes.

“A small scrap of black cotton like that used in a maid's skirts with enough chloroform on it to immobilize a man. Very sloppy. Somebody who doesn't know a thing about chloroform. Probably never had a tooth properly extracted.” His eyes flashed cruelly. “You know, like an African scullery maid. Denton Ross declared that given the cocked-up amount used on the boy, he would've stopped breathing within a matter of minutes. I've got my men out right now searching the woods on the property. We brought the dogs out a short while ago. So you see, Pendragon, there is much the Yard has been able to accomplish while you've had Pruitt here gallivanting about in back alleys for old times' sake.”

Colin flashed a tight grin as he slid the crown he'd been shuffling back into his pocket. I worried what he might be about to say, but he surprised me, as he often does, by simply leaning back and stating, “It is indeed an impressive amount of information that you've been able to assemble. But I wonder to what end Alexa would have had all of these crimes committed?” he continued. “And what of her husband? What of
his
death?”

“Maybe he didn't like what his wife was up to. Maybe he threatened to turn her in.” Varcoe shrugged blithely, and yet I could tell Colin had poked at the inspector's own misgiving.

“We have come upon murders with lesser motives,” Colin admitted, his gaze drifting off. “Are Mrs. Hutton and her daughter still there watching your men and their hounds rooting about?”

“No. The two of them left this morning for Paris. And so much the better without them. She was threatening to single-handedly end my career,” he griped. “And that after I told her the Yard was working around the clock on the case.” His tone dropped and I could sense his displeasure. “I even admitted that we'd brought you in as a consultant, but she was not to be assuaged. I don't think she's much of a fan of either of us.”

“She made that clear to me as well,” Colin muttered, swiping a hand through his hair.

“She demanded we deliver her and the girl to Claridge's before sunset last night. Claridge's,” he scoffed. “She refused to even go back to the house this morning. They left everything they hadn't taken with them yesterday and were off to Dover by nine. Went to stay with a sister, or cousin . . .” He waved a hand dismissively. “I don't remember. We've got the address. Not to mention that she's already contacted us once and she hasn't even been gone a damn day!”

“You can hardly blame her,” I said, glancing over at Colin and finding him wholly preoccupied as he stared out the window.

“Evans and I are on our way over to have another go at that snarky scullery maid of the Connicles,” Varcoe announced as he crossed to the doorway. “That woman is into this in some way. You can't tell me you don't agree.”

Colin turned from the window and looked back at the inspector, his expression unreadable. “You certainly have some potent evidence against her,” he allowed. “But what bothers me, what I cannot stop thinking about, is why?”

“Those people,” Varcoe sniffed. “Life has no meaning for them. They kill their own like they kill the beasts for eating. You're looking for logic where there is none, Pendragon. You've been living too high for too long.” A complacent smile curved Varcoe's lips. “We'll let you know if we need you anymore. Otherwise, stay out of the gutters, boys.” He chuckled as he flicked a last mocking grin at me.

V
arcoe's warning meant nothing to Colin, as we were back to the same harsh East End neighborhood that very night. An incessant drizzle persisted in spitting from the thick iron-gray clouds brooding across the evening sky as the two of us split up and trolled through a goodly share of pubs and taverns seeking anyone familiar with the late felon Eckhard Heillert. For his part, Colin failed utterly. I, on the other hand, did manage to find one barkeep and two working ladies who recognized the name, though none of them could tell me much of consequence. The barkeep and one of the women remembered having seen Mr. Heillert freely spending a fair amount of money, but both insisted they knew nothing of how he'd earned it. The other woman recollected his bragging about doing a series of jobs for a gentleman but admitted she didn't care a whit about it as long as Mr. Heillert paid for her services. Which, after a second stout, she confessed she had adjusted upward and he had happily given. But beyond those meager scraps, we learned nothing.

I spent the better part of the next day completing my chronicle of our recent case involving the Arnifour family while Colin paced around our flat, tossed his weights around for a bit, took a walk, pretended to take a brief nap, and disassembled and cleaned four handguns and a rifle. When I began to fear he might be on the verge of tackling his knife collection he announced that it was time for us to visit Prakhasa Guitnu and return his bounty of jewels to him. So as tea time approached, we headed east to Holland Park.

We arrived to find the Guitnu family at home, including middle daughter Sunny, who looked positively ill at our appearance. Nevertheless, all three daughters were subjected to tea and the most delicious little coconut cakes for the first half hour of our visit before Mr. Guitnu finally released them, along with his wife, so we could turn to the crux of our visit. The doors to the great library had barely closed before Mr. Guitnu turned to us. “What have you learned? Do you bring me news?”

Colin picked up the valise he had brought and extracted the sack Cillian and Sunny had given us. “I believe you will find everything there,” Colin said, his tone soft and, to my ears, filled with misgiving.

“What?!” Mr. Guitnu's eyes went bright as he pulled the sack open and fished a hand inside, extracting the same sapphire necklace I had so admired at our flat. “It is a miracle. You are a master, Mr. Pendragon.” He beamed. Yet not a moment later his brow began to furrow as he quickly pawed through the items with a mixture of relief and mounting concern. “But how . . . ?” He looked at us.

“Ah . . .” Colin flashed a quick, thin smile as he sat back in his chair. “I shall give you a full accounting, but might I trouble you to answer a few unrelated questions first?”

Mr. Guitnu's smile was ready and warm. “You may ask me anything at all, Mr. Pendragon, as you have most certainly earned the right.”

“Yes . . . well . . .” Colin flicked his eyes to me before plastering on his smile and looking back at Mr. Guitnu. “As one of this city's preeminent jewelry designers and fabricators, I was wondering if you were ever asked to craft anything for Edmond Connicle?”

“Oh!” His eyes lit up. “I made several pieces for his wife. Such a lovely slip of a woman. There was a small bracelet with tiny, round diamonds set in a delicate white gold strand, and I believe two pairs of diamond earrings, one pear cut and one round. I suppose she has a preference for diamonds, but I don't really know. I believe those were the only pieces I have made for her. Perhaps she does not like beautiful jewelry?” He gave a lilting laugh.

Colin chuckled. “I don't believe I have ever met a woman yet who does not appreciate fine jewelry.”

Mr. Guitnu beamed. “Then you must let me make something for
your
wife, Mr. Pendragon.”

Colin's grin shifted ever so slightly. “I shall certainly ponder that,” he answered quickly. “And have you ever created anything for either Arthur Hutton or Hubert Aston?”

“Mr. Hutton commissioned me to make something for his wife only once, which I think is tragic, as she is a most beautiful woman with truly wondrous blue eyes. As you might suppose, he wanted a necklace of diamonds and sapphires and two pendant sapphire earrings ringed in tiny diamonds to match. The design of the necklace was exquisite if I may say, with a princess-cut sapphire surrounded by tiny diamond baguettes. The pattern repeated itself all the way around her neck.” He shook his head with the memory. “But he never came to pick any of it up or settle his account. I heard there was some financial trouble, so I eventually sold the set to another gentleman. A gentleman with exquisite taste.” He grinned.

“And Mr. Aston?” Colin persisted, though I could sense his mood waning.

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Guitnu's smile tilted up at one side. “A fine man who has purchased many, many things from me, some for his wife”—his crooked grin became almost roguish—“some not.” He winked.

“Is that so?” Colin's eyebrows popped up. “And how can you be sure?”

“Every woman has her preferences, Mr. Pendragon,” he answered with whimsy, as though schooling ignorant children, which I suppose we were. “And beyond that, the colors of jewels may be right for one woman but wholly inappropriate for the next. Rather like clothing.”

“Of course.” Colin nodded solemnly, but I knew he had no idea what Mr. Guitnu meant. All Colin could be sure of was that Mrs. Behmoth had a preference for gray and black.

“Mr. Aston's wife is a broad-faced woman with alabaster skin and auburn hair,” Mr. Guitnu continued. “She loves emeralds and diamonds, and they suit her well. And because she is an ample woman, she can wear large pieces with substantial stones. The last necklace I made for her had a magnificent eighteen-carat pear-shaped emerald set in gold with tiny marquise-cut diamonds around it. It was a masterpiece.” He gave a sheepish smile. “There I am singing my own praises again. But it looked most spectacular on her.”

“And the other jewelry he bought?” Colin prodded. “You said it was not all for his wife. Perhaps he bought pieces for his daughters?”

Mr. Guitnu gave a delighted laugh. “Oh no, Mr. Pendragon, not these pieces. When a man buys something for a daughter you can be sure it will be simple and chaste. Delicate-colored stones like peridot or tourmaline with straightforward cuts in unadorned settings. It is a father's curse to forever view his daughter this way. Woe to the man who should try to tell him otherwise.” He chuckled merrily, sending a knot to my stomach as I thought about the real reason for our visit. “The other pieces Mr. Aston buys from time to time are much smaller and they are always set with rubies the color of blood. I remember one most particularly: a heart-shaped ruby just a carat and a half in white gold surrounded by tiny diamond chips. Another time he bought the earrings to go with it, and on a third occasion, the bracelet. These pieces are not for daughters and would never be worn by an ample woman with a penchant for emeralds and gold. Do you see, Mr. Pendragon?”

“Indeed I do.” Colin released an easy smile. “Your information has been most helpful.”

“I do not mean to speak out of turn about Mr. Aston—”

“Perish the thought.” Colin's cobalt eyes brimmed with feigned innocence.

“Then please.” Mr. Guitnu sat back in his chair and picked up his teacup again. “Tell me how you came to find my jewels. I will have the truth so I can punish the man who would dishonor me so.”

“Well, Mr. Guitnu.” Colin stood up and wandered over to a wall of books adjacent to where we were sitting, absently running his fingers along their spines. “I'm afraid it is a complex and uneasy answer you seek.”

Mr. Guitnu's brow instantly furrowed as he stared at Colin. “Someone is robbing me. What can be complex about that?”

“What if I tell you the perpetrator does not work in your household?” Colin asked while casually studying a row of books.

“That would be wonderful,” Mr. Guitnu enthused as he glanced back at me with relief. “I should like to think my staff worthy of my trust. You have already brought me peace.” But his brow quickly furrowed again. “Then how did someone from outside gain repeated access to my safe?”

Colin heaved a sigh as he slid back into the chair next to me and set his eyes firmly on Mr. Guitnu. “I am not making myself clear,” he said. “One of your daughters was involved. But before you say anything, Mr. Guitnu, before you determine what to think, I will ask you to hear me out. Will you do that?”

Mr. Guitnu's face went still as he placed his cup back on the table and gave the slightest nod of his head. It was not much, but it was something.

“One of your daughters has fallen in love with a young man and he with her. They did not mean for it to happen, but it has just the same. It is often the way.” He gave a hesitant smile that Mr. Guitnu did not meet. “A person wants to follow the rules, to be like everyone else, and then he meets someone who makes his heart beat faster, his stomach roil, and his head spin. And no matter how hard he tries he cannot stop thinking of them. You are only truly happy when you are together. Nothing feels more
right
. So even though you tell yourself it cannot be, it
will
not be, you have already fallen well into the mire and no longer really even want to get out. No matter the consequences.”

The three of us sat there quietly, my heart thundering so loudly in my ears I thought surely they would hear it. My breathing came shallow and tight as I waited for Mr. Guitnu to say something and, when I stole a quick glance at Colin, I saw the same dread in him.

“It was never your daughter's intent to defy your will,” I spoke up, hoping to allay Mr. Guitnu's resistance. “You must have understood the potential risk when you brought your family here and exposed your daughters to our more liberal customs of courting.” I thought it a logical argument, but it earned me a scowl from Colin.

“That is the fact then,” he said as he took a deep breath. “And because of it your daughter made a terrible decision,” he continued. “On her own, without giving you so much as an opportunity to speak your own mind, she determined that you would disapprove of her love for this young man and forbid them from marrying. So she sought to take some of your pieces to allow the two of them to start their life together. It was a regrettable decision. She admits that, which is why she has given me the jewels and asked that I return them to you. She seeks your blessing, not your money. That is what she now realizes holds the only true value for her.”

Colin sat back and I felt the release of a sigh more than heard it. I peeked over at Mr. Guitnu and found that his gaze had drifted above Colin's head to one of the windows, his face remaining stoic and composed. I wondered if I dared hope that his love for his daughter might outweigh his traditions. That he might meet poor Cillian before deciding.

“Which of my daughters has disgraced me in this way?” he said in a thin, tight voice.

“She meant no disgrace,” I corrected at once.

“I have listened as you asked,” he said, “and will pay for your services. Now I shall have her name.”

“Sundha,” Colin answered.

I suppose I expected to see Mr. Guitnu flinch or sag, but he did nothing of the kind. He simply rose to his feet, pressed the fee into my hands with a nod, and showed us to the door. Even after we had crossed the threshold he said nothing further, merely closing the door without a second look.

We walked back to the street, my spirits sagging even as I hurried to keep up with Colin. He seemed oddly stirred and stepped right into the street, where he hailed a passing cab. “West Hampstead,” he called up to the driver.

“What are we going out there for?” I asked as I climbed in beside Colin.

“We are going to pay another visit to Hubert Aston and see if we cannot coax some keener information from him, given what Mr. Guitnu has just shared with us.”

“Ah.” I leaned back as the carriage lurched forward, trying to imagine how that haughty man was likely to respond to such a tactic. “I cannot say I have a good feeling about this.”

Colin waved me off. “You worry too much.”

I ignored him as I returned to my thoughts of Sunny and Cillian. “Do you think Mr. Guitnu will meet with Cillian? At least give the boy a hearing?”

Colin looked at me as though I had sprouted a pair of horns from my forehead. “No. He was only kind enough to hear us out because he is a gentleman.” Colin looked back out the carriage window as the teeming city began to give way to the verdant expanse of West Hampstead. “Once he has satisfied himself that Sundha's chastity is intact he will have her betrothed. It is simply the way of it, Ethan. It cannot end any other way.”

“Then I am sorry for them.”

He heaved a sigh and took my hand. “They're young. Let us hope they are equally resilient.”

“Yes . . . well . . . I'm just glad I wasn't born to such customs.”

He laughed as we pulled into the Astons' drive. “There'd be little difference, as you've already made folly of the customs you
were
born under.” He chuckled. “Come now,” he said as we pulled under the Astons' portico. “Pay the driver and let us get on with this. I can hardly contain myself.”

I don't know what I thought was going to happen. Certainly Hubert Aston had been less than cordial on our last visit. Yet I suppose I had at least expected gentility. Never mind our feigned apologies for arriving unannounced, Mr. Aston was out of sorts from the moment he barreled into the library we'd been dispatched to. The first thing he did was dismiss his houseman by telling him there was no need for tea as we would not be staying, and then he spun on Colin with a deep-set scowl and snarled, “Why are you here?” before the door had even fully closed.