The Deathsniffer’s Assistant (The Faraday Files Book 1) (18 page)

“I didn’t do it,” Miss Caldwell declared, impudence instantaneously replacing her angelic innocence.

“Of course not.” Chris could hear the smirk in Olivia’s voice. She held Miss Caldwell’s gaze in a bold challenge. “Hmm,” Olivia said. “Come inside and close the door, Mister Buckley. I doubt Miss Caldwell wants any attention called to herself.”

It wasn’t an easy task, but somehow Chris managed to squeeze into the tiny closet and shut the door behind him without crushing all three of them. He pushed himself up against the door, trying to create as much space as possible. The air went heavy with their combined breath, and he fought to get his notebook out and record the conversation to come.

“Normally when someone didn’t do it, their first reaction isn’t to say they didn’t do it,” Olivia mused.

“And why not? I know why you’re here. And I know what that bitch would have said about me.”

Chris skipped over the language in his transcription, then he forced himself to go back and add it in. He also noted the venom in Miss Caldwell’s voice. Both seemed like things Olivia would want to remember.

“And just who is the bitch in question?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Viktor’s charming wife.” Vanessa Caldwell’s voice dripped with disdain. “She’s ever so fond of me.”

“I don’t blame her,” Olivia chirped. “I already adore you!”

The two women stared at one another, and Chris used the momentary lull to describe the room and Miss Caldwell in his book. Boxes upon boxes filled with things he couldn’t fathom. Stacks of white cloth: linen, towels, and bandages. A low ceiling, tiled floor, and every bit of it all in white. It was a struggle to keep his thoughts clear enough to transcribe what was happening, and not thread in his memories.

have you seen mymother? i needto find her
slipped into his description of Miss Caldwell’s uniform, and he gritted his teeth.

“It would help me find out who killed the Duke,” Olivia said, “if you could just answer some simple questions for me.”

Miss Caldwell thrust her elegant chin into the air and tried to fold her arms, but her elbow hit one of the steel shelves hard and sent it rattling. The cool image she was trying to convey didn’t survive the blunder. “Why should I?” she demanded.

“Because I’m investigating his death, and―”

“I don’t have to tell you a single thing,” Vanessa Caldwell interrupted, defiance gleaming in her eyes. “I know what Evelyn has told you. You came thinking maybe, just maybe, I’m the one who killed Viktor.”

“I don’t care what the Duchess told me,” Olivia replied, “but I never rule out a suspect, especially not before I talk to them. So yes, I do have it in my mind that maybe, just maybe.”

“Let me tell you something,” Vanessa snapped, her beautiful face pulling into a sneer. “I’ve been trying to get my poems into a decent publication for seven years. Seven whole
years
! It hasn’t been easy when all anyone wants to print about is proficiencies losing their puissance, reformist propaganda, people losing their jobs, and yet another elemental accident.” Chris thought of Rosemary at home with a pang. “It’s been an uphill battle the whole time, and the few times I’ve gotten horrible gossip rags to print me, no one cares enough to notice. Not with Darrington falling apart.”

“That’s a very sad story,” Olivia said, in a voice that said she didn’t think it was an especially sad story at all.

“It’s not finished,” the lifeknitter shot back. “Seven years, everything I’ve done has been about furthering my career, and trying to get out of these little closets
.
I’m not strong enough to be a doctor. I’m not even strong enough to be a nurse.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?”

“Where I am
going
is just this one simple fact: Viktor val Daren and his money were the only things that could possibly have given me all I wanted. He was every possibility of a future I had.” Vanessa Caldwell’s eyes flashed. “The only thing more stupid than me killing the Duke would be you thinking I did.”

“Is that so?”

“I told you. I didn’t do it.”

“Well, lovely, why don’t you let me decide that for myself?” Olivia chuckled and shook her head. “Right. Now, I was wondering where you were on the night of―”

But Vanessa interrupted her by turning away with haughty dignity. She began folding the white cloth she was holding. “I meant what I said, Miss Faraday,” she said as she did so. “I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re not police.”

Another silence, which Vanessa filled by lifting another white sheet and folding it, and then another. When Olivia spoke again, her tone was considerably less amused. “It would take me five minutes on the mirror to have an officer here.”

“Then do that,” Vanessa said, folding yet another sheet.

“You’re adding a completely unnecessary step to finding out who
did
kill the Duke with this stubbornness,” Olivia pressed. There was a hint of anger in her voice, now. “Do you have any idea how suspicious it is to refuse to talk to a Deathsniffer? At most, you get a day before I come in here with an officer, which is―”

“Long enough for you to realize this is none of my doing and stop wasting our time,” Vanessa interjected.

“Even if you didn’t kill the Duke, there are things you could tell me that would help the investigation.” There was no doubt about it. Olivia no longer found Vanessa’s stubbornness funny. “Every second that passes between the moment of his death and the moment I realize who killed him makes it more and more likely that they get away. You need to realize anything you say, no matter how innocuous, can be the one piece of information that tells me who―”

“I can tell you who. I can tell you right now.” Vanessa twisted her neck about, and she looked at Olivia with hatred in her flashing, dark eyes and certainty on her beautiful, delicate face. “It was Evelyn. She cut him up herself. Now leave me alone.”

hat a
complete
waste of time,” Olivia growled across the seat, and Chris couldn’t help but agree. “It’s a bloody idiotic rule,” she continued. “Don’t I work for the police? Don’t I do most of their work
for
them, even?”

The silence dragged long enough Chris realized she wanted an actual answer. “I don’t know?” he hazarded.

“Well, it’s foolish. I’ll be back with Maris tomorrow morning and she’ll have done nothing but ruin my day,” Olivia snapped. She turned half about in her seat and beat her fist against the wall of the car. “
Are we nearly there?
” she yelled.

“Ain’t makin the horses go any faster!” the driver shouted back, voice muffled.

Olivia huffed, throwing herself back in her seat and crossing her arms. “He’s going slow so he can charge us more,” she spat.

Most cabbies calculated their fee based on distance, not time, but Chris didn’t feel much like telling her that. There was no need for the driver to gouge them; he was going to make plenty enough royals on the flat rate. The val Daren estate was
not
close by.

“I’d like to talk to the Duchess alone,” Olivia announced.

Whatever she’d thought of Miss Caldwell’s attitude, one thing was for certain: she did love to see someone agree with her initial suspicion.

Chris frowned. “Don’t you need me to transcribe?” he hedged.

She waved her hand at him. “No, no. I’ll recount everything for you later. Everything I remember, at least. I’m so scattered. That’s why I absolutely need a good assistant, you know. I forget everything unless it’s written down!” She blinked and shook herself, realizing she’d wandered off. “It’s not ideal, but it’s necessary. Obviously, the Duchess is a woman who values appearances. That’s why she risked evidence tampering by tucking Mister Wiggly back into the Duke’s trousers.” Chris flushed and avoided her frank, unashamed eyes. “Some people think assistants are invisible, but I don’t think she’s one. You being there doubles the amount of people who’d see her family—or worse, her
self—
embarrassed by something
scandalous
.”

“So you think she’d be more open if I weren’t there.”

Olivia nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, exactly.”

Chris considered it, and concluded it might be wise. He knew all too well about the value of appearances. “So what about me? Do I sit in the foyer and wait?” If that were the case, he would just as well have gone home to be with Rosemary. He wanted to be there when she woke, wanted her to know he was by her side. If their home was going to be stormed by politicians and reporters, he wanted to protect her.

“I don’t pay you to sit on your fancy bum,” Olivia said. “Obviously, you’re going to snoop.”

Her pronouncement sent his thoughts of Rosemary scattering. His stomach flopped. “I hope you’re not asking me to do anything…”

“Anything
impolite
, Mister Buckley?” She smirked. “Perish the thought.”

She was mocking him; his hackles rose. “Anything
illegal
,” he snapped. “And you might try being polite. People would tell you more if they liked you.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but to his surprise, Olivia only sat back in her seat and giggled. “Big words, Mister Buckley,” she said, her voice lilting. “A little bit of spine, is it?”

Chris huffed. “I’m not snooping around the val Daren estate. They’re Old Blood.”

“It’s part of your job,” Olivia said.

“It’s not,” Chris retorted. “You didn’t mention anything about spying for you.”

Olivia shrugged. “Your job is what I say it is,” she said flippantly. “You’re not my secretary, you’re my assistant. You assist.”

“This―”

“Stop thinking about things in black and white. There was a murder done in the val Daren house, and murders are never done without evidence. How am I supposed to find that? Do you think the Duchess, image-obsessed Evelyn val Daren, is going to just
let
me search her home?”

“Probably not,” Chris allowed, “but I’d still hope―”

“You’re sweet! You’re pretty! You’re very nonthreatening. You’re perfect. Snooping is easy. Stop whining.” She made a dismissive gesture with one of her slender, long-fingered hands. “I’ll have the Duchess occupied, so just do whatever. If you look like you belong, no one is going to question it.”

“If it’s so easy, you do it.” His voice came out very sullen. He sounded like Rosemary losing an argument.

“We’ve been through this! Sweet! Pretty! Nonthreatening!
I
need to keep the Duchess busy, and you don’t know how to question her,” Olivia said, irritatingly reasonable. “Also,” she continued, “I want to see whether you can follow orders.”

Defeated, he sighed. “Fine,” he bit off. “What am I looking for?”

Olivia rubbed her hands together, leaning forward in her seat. Childish glee shone in her eyes like evil stars. “Anything interesting,” she replied. Chris swallowed.
Is that all…?

He cleared his throat.

She rolled her eyes. “Look for suspicious things! Is that so difficult? Anything that stands out, pops, piques your attention. The smallest things can make you think about―” She cut herself off, all of a sudden looking almost abashed. “None of this is helping, is it?”

“Not in the slightest,” he admitted.