The Mermaid in the Basement (37 page)

Grant was busy with his work all morning, but he could not stop thinking about Viscountess Trent’s request. It troubled him, and he found himself unable to put his full attention on his real work.

Finally he said to Sergeant Kenzie, “I’ve got an errand to run, Sandy. I’ll be back fairly soon.”

“Don’t forget you’re going out of town.”

“I know. I’ll be there.”

Grant left his office and the building that housed Scotland Yard. He rarely acted on impulse, but this thing in him was stronger than impulse. He finally came to a decision and took a hansom cab to the Trent estate. He said to the driver, “Wait here. I won’t be long.”

“Yes, Inspector.”

He went up the steps and was admitted by a pretty parlor maid, to whom he said, “I’d like to see the viscountess.”

“Yes, sir. If you’ll just wait in the study.” She led Grant down to the study and said, “I’ll tell the viscountess you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

Grant paced the floor, but almost at once a woman appeared. He thought at first it was the viscountess, but then he saw that it was Dora Newton.

“Why, Inspector Grant.” Dora came toward him. She was dressed in dove grey, a simple dress that did not flaunt her youthful figure, but he was much aware of the young woman’s lissome quality. “Are you here to see my father?”

“No,Miss Dora, I need to see the viscountess.”

“I’m sure she’ll come quickly.” She hesitated, then gave a nervous laugh. She stepped closer to him and said in a confidential tone, “Do you know what, Inspector Grant? I was very afraid of you when you first came to our house. Very much so. You terrified me.”

Grant was disappointed but shrugged, saying, “I guess a lot of people are afraid of me. I’ve got the name of being a hard man.”

“No, that’s not so,” Dora said gently. “You’re not hard, Inspector.” She stepped forward impulsively and reached down and took his hand. She held it for a moment and said, “You’ve been so very kind to me!”

Matthew Grant, by his own admission, was a hard-driving man. He had come up hard and whetted his skills on the worst element in London society. The woman who stood before him was the antithesis of all that he had learnt about women. Most of the women he contacted were of the criminal order—tough, loud, and without a thread of morality. This young woman seemed to exude an air of goodness and purity. Her lips were full and wide and were now turned up in a smile, and her eyes were fixed on him. He admired the smooth joining of her neck and shoulders, and her auburn hair glowed under the room lamps. There was a slight flush in her cheeks, and as it had before, her beauty hit Grant intensely. She had managed to stir his deepest and most reckless emotions, something that had happened against his will.

“I’m glad you feel that way,Miss Dora.”

“I do.” She held on to his hand, and at that moment something passed between them. She pulled back and gave a half laugh. “You must think I’m awful, being so forward.”

“No, I would never think you were awful. I—I’ve never known a woman like you,Miss Dora.”

“Really?” Dora took that as a compliment, which it was, and then she looked directly into his eyes and said, “And I’ve never met a man like you, Inspector Grant.”

At that moment Grant’s quick ears caught the sound of footsteps on the marble floor of the hallway. He turned from her, and as soon as Serafina entered, he nodded and said, “I apologise for coming at this unseemly hour, Viscountess.”

“Not at all, Inspector Grant. Is there something I need to know?”

Grant hesitated, and both women were watching him. He seemed to see himself standing on the top of a thin wall high in the air. If he fell on one side, that meant one thing. If he fell on the other, it meant another.He knew well that for a policeman to give information to the relative of a suspect went against all the tenets of Scotland Yard—and against his own inclination. Still, his eyes went to Dora, and he knew he had no choice. He had never given up anything to a woman before, but now her gentleness had touched a part of him that he had not known he had.

“You went to Superintendent Winters about the books in Kate Fairfield’s room.”

“Yes, I wanted to look at them.”

“Why?”

Now it was Serafina who was distressed. The man who stood before her represented the forces of law. She had thought he was a rigid adversary against whom she must throw her whole might, but as she watched him, she could not make up her mind. “I don’t know how much I can trust you, Inspector.”

At once Dora reached over and took Serafina’s arm. “You can trust him, Sister. He’s a good man.”

Usually Serafina would pay no attention to such a recommendation. She would have said simply, “You think everyone is good, Dora.” But there was something in the light of her sister’s eyes, a light of hope and excitement she had not seen for some time.

She turned to face Grant and said, “I’m going to place myself in your power, Inspector. I trust you will not misuse it.”

“I will not,” Grant said firmly, and both women saw his jaw tighten as if he had made a vow.

“Some time ago a diary of Kate Fairfield’s came into my possession.” She very carefully did not tell how, although she saw that Grant wanted to know. “I can’t explain how I got it. It might involve another person. In any case, it’s written in a very complicated cypher. I can’t read it, but I’m convinced the answer lies in one of her books. If we could find that book, Inspector, I think it might be the key to finding who really killed her.”

Grant stared at Viscountess Serafina Trent. She was a strong woman, and he knew it had cost her greatly to put her trust in a policeman. His eyes shifted to Dora, who was watching him and smiling at him confidently. He cleared his throat and said, “I have orders to confiscate the books and take them down to the Yard. If they’re there in the morning, my duty will require that. I’ll say no more about it, and I’ll bid you good day, Viscountess—and you,Miss Dora.”

Dora put out her hand, and he took it. “Thank you so much, Inspector,” she whispered.

Grant could only nod and make a quick farewell. As soon as he was outside, he stopped and looked up at the sky. It was all blue except for the large billowy clouds drifting with the breeze. A bird sang, and he looked up into a pear tree and saw a nightingale. He listened to the bird’s song and then suddenly shook his shoulders in a gesture of annoyance.
Well,
here I am listening to birds sing and giving away departmental information
to a relative of an accused killer. I must be losing my mind!
But then he thought of Dora’s soft eyes and her warm smile, and a smile touched his own lips. He walked down the path then, got into the carriage, and quickly drove away from the house.

“I need your help, but I can’t ask you to do it. Clive’s not your brother.”

Dylan stared at Serafina. “You do ask a lot of a man.” He suddenly smiled, and when Serafina saw that smile, she understood how women would respond to it as she found herself doing.

“We’ll have to wait until after midnight like we did last time. Besides, we can return the other items, as you said.” He paused. “You know,” he continued, “if we’re going to burgle houses on a regular basis, I’d better buy myself a new set of burglar tools.”

Serafina knew he was making light of the difficulty, and she said quietly, “Thank you, Dylan. It’s like you.”

“Is it now? A man will do anything for a beautiful woman, I suppose.”

Serafina had heard compliments from men who pursued her, but there was a tone in his voice that caught at her.

“What is beauty, Dylan?”

“It’s not in a pleasing form or smooth skin or beautifully shaped eyes. No indeed. It goes deeper than that. A man looks on a woman, and it’s like she’s the right woman for him. And when that happens to a man, he can’t just walk away from it, or if he does, he carries it with him.”

“As you carry the memory of Eileen,” she said softly.

“You haven’t forgotten that?”

“Indeed, no. It’s beautiful to me that you can carry your love all this time, even when she’s not there to receive it.”

Dylan did not speak, and she saw that he was moved. He studied Serafina and saw the shape of her shoulders and the shining of her blonde hair, and moved by an impulse that was stronger than he, he stepped forward. He saw her eyes widen, but he reached out and pulled her to him. He put his arms around her and felt the firmness of her figure as she pressed against him. “A man finds beauty,” he said, “and when he finds it, he has to respond to it or else he’s no man at all.” He bent his head, and she looked up. He let his mouth fall upon hers, and she did not resist. Her mouth, indeed, was soft and yet firm. Half of her came through, and half of her held off, and he did not put any more pressure on her. For the one instant while they were joined in that embrace, they were on the edge of a mystery that every man and woman faces, and neither of them knew at that moment what would come.

He stepped back and saw that her breath had quickened, and he said, “I’ll be back for you after midnight.” He waited for her to speak but saw that she had no intention of doing so. She was watching him, her eyes wide with something like shock, and he left without another word.

Serafina stood absolutely still. She had never been stirred by a man’s kiss as she had by Dylan’s. Something strong and unsettling had been stirred by his kiss, and she had felt something in herself crying out for surrender, softening her. Her stillness as she stood there was deceiving, for in her breast a turmoil was brewing. She had not known love in her marriage, for Charles had not been a loving man. He had taught her, if anything, to hate men, and for the first time in her memory, a man had stirred the deeper part of her that made her a woman. She looked down and saw that her hands were trembling. She held them together to still them, dropped her head, and closed her eyes. She knew she would be thinking of this moment for weeks.

Serafina stood close beside Dylan, her nerves stretched tight. They had entered the house of Kate Fairfield, Dylan having been extra careful that no one was on the street. It was a little after one, and the streets were deserted. Still, they had moved cautiously into the house, which was still sealed off. They had ascended the stairs, and now they stood in the centre of Kate’s bedroom. Serafina looked over to the bed where the woman had died and felt a coldness.

“There’s the bookcase,” Dylan said. He moved toward it, and she joined him. It was a small bookcase, no more than four feet square. It sat on a mahogany table so that the books were at eye level.

“We went through these once before,” Serafina said, “but we were looking for the wrong thing.”

“What kind of books are they?”

Serafina scanned the books. “They’re novels, most of them. Some romance. Some detective-type novels.”

“They’ve got strange titles.”He pulled one out and said, “
The Canary
That Cried Wolf
.” He opened the front page and said, “Written by somebody named Regis Stoneman.”

“I’ve never read one of his books, but my sister gave me this one as a present—
The Mermaid in the Basement
, remember?” she said with a slight chuckle.

“He must be popular, as many as there are. We don’t even know if this is all.What do we do now?”

“It has to be one of these books.” Serafina stood by the feeble light that he held and said, “How would the book she used be different?”

“I don’t think she’d write on it ‘This is the book that’s the key to my code,’” he said wryly.

“No. Let’s look at them individually.”

Dylan set the lantern down, and the two of them began examining the books. They went through them page by page trying to find some connection, and finally Serafina said in despair, “We’ll have to take them all.”

“We can’t do that. Grant would get into trouble.”

“That’s right. I forgot. Then we have to find which one is the key.”

The two stood there before the books, and finally Serafina said, “Wait a minute. Something is odd about one of these.”

“What is odd about it? They all look alike to me.”

“Believe it or not, it’s the book my sister gave me.” She opened the book and looked up with excitement dancing in her eyes. “This must be the one.”