The Perfect Poison (34 page)

“Perhaps we should change the subject,” she said coolly.

Ellerbeck flushed. “Yes, of course. I realize it is not my place to offer you paternal advice.”

“Especially in light of the fact that you were involved in my father’s murder as well as the murders of Gordon Woodhall and my fiancé.”

Ellerbeck started so violently that tea splashed on the desk. He stared at her. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I am quite certain that you are also connected to the attempt that was recently made on Mr. Jones’s life. Perhaps you would care to discuss that, instead?”

“You astonish me, Miss Bromley.”

“Why bother to lie. You are dying, after all.”

“Yes. You are quite right, my dear. Quite right.”

“I know that you are taking Hulsey’s latest version of the formula. I sensed it in your aura the moment I walked into this room. It is deadly.”

“You really do possess a most amazing talent.”

She made a slight dismissing movement with her ungloved hand. “It is a poison. I am very good at detecting poisons.”

Ellerbeck snorted derisively. He reached into his pocket and removed a small gold snuffbox. Green stones glittered on top. He set the box on the desk and studied it as though it were a strange artifact from another realm.

“Hulsey gave me what he claimed was the new, more stable version yesterday afternoon,” he said. “I took three doses and was quite pleased. It seemed so much stronger than the earlier versions. It was not until the fourth dose last night that I realized what the bastard had done to me. To all of us, I suspect.”

“He poisoned Thaxter and Norcross, as well, if that is what you mean. They are both dead.”

“I thought as much. I estimate that I have a day or two left at most.”

“The original version of the drug was a poison, too. You said your symptoms came on several months ago.”

“The deterioration from the first version was much slower.” He clenched his hand into a fist. “I had time. Now I have none.”

“If you knew the founder’s drug was dangerous, why did you take it?”

He fixed her with a bleak look. “All great scientific advances involve some risk. You cannot begin to imagine the power of the drug. One is infused with the most thrilling sensations. My talent rose far beyond its previous limits. I could see colors in the botanical world that I had never before been able to observe. I could comprehend aspects of plant life that had always been just beyond my reach. I could have accomplished great things, Miss Bromley.”

“If it had not been for the unfortunate fact that the drug was killing you,” she concluded.

“It transpired that I am allergic to it.”

“In other words, it was killing you faster than it will kill the others in the Order.”

“Much faster. Most will have years. Time enough to produce a more stable version of the drug. But I soon realized that I had only months.”

“If you are severely allergic to the formula, how did you survive this long?”

“I used my talent to buy myself some time while Hulsey worked to improve the drug. Yesterday he gave me the results of his latest research.” Ellerbeck’s mouth twisted. “The bastard assured me that it would soon alleviate all of the allergic symptoms. Instead, it will put me into a coffin within forty-eight hours. He has murdered me as surely as I sit here.”

“Why did you ask me to come here today?”

“I refuse to die until I have had my revenge on you, Miss Bromley.”

“You blame me for what has happened?”

“Oh, yes, Miss Bromley, I blame you.”

He pushed himself to his feet with great effort. She saw the gun in his hand.

“Do you intend to shoot me here in your library?” she asked, rising slowly. “That will be somewhat messy and rather difficult to explain to the police, will it not?”

“I no longer give a damn about the police, Miss Bromley. It is too late. You have destroyed everything. But I will have my vengeance on you if it is the last thing I do on this earth. I am feeling quite weak, however. I need some of my special tonic. Come with me. You are very likely the only other person in London who can truly appreciate what I have created.”

She did not move.

He jerked the gun toward the conservatory and then pointed it at her again. “Open the door, Miss Bromley. Do it now or I will shoot you where you stand and to hell with the mess on the carpet.”

She crossed the room and opened the door to the conservatory. She was braced for the impact but the currents of twisted, malevolent energies struck her senses with such force that she swayed. She grabbed the doorframe, instinctively trying to close down her senses.

Ellerbeck came up behind her and shoved her into the glass-walled chamber of botanical horrors.

“Welcome to my private hell, Miss Bromley.”

Still off balance, she stumbled forward and nearly went down. She reeled, barely managing to catch hold of the edge of a workbench. Her skirts twisted treacherously around her ankles.

The sound of a key in a lock sent another shiver through her. Ellerbeck had sealed them inside the conservatory. She looked around, amazed and horrified.

Malformed plants and darkly luminous greenery filled the glass-and-iron chamber. She recognized an array of bizarre hybrids, cultivars and varieties of dozens of dangerous and poisonous species. Other specimens were so distorted that it was impossible to identify them. When she opened her senses very cautiously, she could detect traces of the original plants but the disturbing energies the strange new creations produced iced her blood.

“What have you done here, Mr. Ellerbeck?” she whispered, stunned. “Nothing is right in this conservatory.”

“Nature does not recognize right or wrong, Miss Bromley. Only that which survives.”

“You have distorted everything in here.”

“After I developed the allergy to the founder’s drug, I discovered that the atmosphere in this chamber could alleviate the worst of the side effects. Indeed, it has been all that has sustained me for the past few months. I have been unable to leave it for more than an hour or two at most. I was forced to sleep in here. In effect, this conservatory became my prison.”

“Why did you do this to these plants?”

“This conservatory contains my life’s work. Years ago I devoted myself to psychical plant research in an effort to find a cure for my son’s insanity. What you see here is the result.”

“Did you ever find the cure?” she asked, the botanist in her unable to resist.

“No, Miss Bromley, I failed in that, as well. And now Allister is dead.”

Understanding slammed through her. “Allister Norcross was your son?”

He nodded bleakly. “Yes, Miss Bromley.”

“Tell me why you murdered my father and his partner.”

Ellerbeck took out a handkerchief and mopped his sweating brow. “Because they found out that I was the person who had taken one of the plants that you brought back from the Amazon.”

“Mr. Jones was right,” she said. “It all goes back to the last expedition.”

“Thaxter was insane at the end but oddly lucid,” Caleb said. “He was the leader of the Seventh Circle of Power. As was the case with the Third, there is no obvious link to the other Circles or to those at the top of the Cabal.”

He and Gabe were in his library-laboratory. He was attempting to provide his cousin with a full report of what had transpired, but a growing sense of unease was gnawing at him. It was not just the restless sensation that always came over him when he knew he was overlooking some vital piece of a puzzle. This was something else, something connected to Lucinda.

“We must assume that we did not find all of Stilwell’s notes and papers,” Gabe said. “There are obviously other copies of that formula floating around. That is very likely how the members of the Cabal obtained the recipe.”

“The genie is out of the bottle, Gabe.”

“Yes.” Gabe folded his arms. “Hulsey deliberately altered the drug in such a way as to kill both Norcross and Thaxter in order to avenge the death of Mrs. Daykin?”

“She was his longtime lover, business partner and the mother of his son. He discovered that the Seventh Circle had arranged for Norcross to murder her. One can understand his desire for revenge.”

“You’re still uncertain about how many members there were in Thaxter’s Circle?”

“According to the jeweler’s records, three snuffboxes were ordered. The first two were commissioned about six months ago. The third was purchased a month later. Evidently Thaxter gave them out to the members of his Circle.”

“Three snuffboxes means that there were three members in the Seventh Circle,” Gabe said patiently.

“Thus far, only two snuffboxes are accounted for. Norcross’s and Thaxter’s.”

“Hulsey must have the third one. When we track him down we will find it.”

The need to go to Lucinda was growing ever stronger. “I’m ninety-seven percent sure that Hulsey doesn’t have the third snuffbox,” he said. Calm yourself. She is safe at home.

“What makes you believe that?”

“Thaxter did not consider Hulsey a social equal. As far as he was concerned, Basil Hulsey was merely skilled labor. He claimed that the Order of the Emerald Tablet only accepted members from what he considered a proper social background.”

“In other words, Thaxter would have been willing to employ a man like Hulsey for his talents but he wouldn’t have invited him into the Circle?”

“To him it would have been like inviting his gardener or his coachman to join his club. I certainly can’t see him giving Hulsey an expensive gold snuffbox that, to his way of thinking, had been designed for a gentleman.”

“Perhaps Hulsey insisted on being treated as an equal in the Circle and demanded a snuffbox of his own as part of his fee,” Gabe offered.

“From what I have learned of his nature, I don’t think Hulsey gives a damn about social status. All he cares about is his research. There is something else that bothers me, as well. The third snuffbox was ordered five months ago. Hulsey was not involved in the Seventh Circle at that time.”

“If you’re right, then there is a third member of the Circle still unaccounted for.”

“And another unsolved theft of a plant.” Caleb looked at the paper he had put on the workbench. “There has to be a connection to Bromley’s last expedition to the Amazon.”

“What have you got there?”

“Lucinda’s list of names of the botanists who viewed the specimens from the last expedition immediately after the Bromleys and Woodhall returned from the Amazon.”

“What are you looking for?”

“The person who stole the first plant eighteen months ago. Do you have any notion how much effort is required just to discover whether or not a certain individual happened to be in London on a certain date a year and a half ago?”

“Sounds difficult,” Gabe allowed.

“It’s more than difficult. It’s damn near impossible. I’m going to need more assistance, Gabe. And more money.”

“Just to find the other plant thief?”

“Not just for that, for the agency. The regular clients pay for their investigations, but trying to chase down the rest of the Circles in the Order and identify the Cabal leaders will require a number of consultants. Consultants, it turns out, are expensive.”

“I thought we agreed on a budget for the Jones agency.”

“It will have to be increased.”

A knock on the door interrupted him.

“Yes, Mrs. Perkins, what is it?” he called.

The housekeeper opened the door. “Inspector Spellar is here, sir.”

“Send him up immediately.”

“He’s already here, sir.” Mrs. Perkins drew herself up. “You will recall that I have given notice, Mr. Jones. I will be leaving your employ at the end of the week.”

“Yes, yes, Mrs. Perkins,” Caleb muttered. “You did mention it.”

“I’ll be expecting my wages then, sir.”

“Never fear, Mrs. Perkins, you’ll get your money.”

“Mr. Jones.” Spellar strolled into the room. He was munching on a pastry. He looked first at Gabe and then at Caleb. “And Mr. Jones. Good day to you both. As you can see, Mrs. Perkins very kindly gave me a bite to eat.”

“What news, Spellar?” Caleb asked.

Spellar swallowed the last of the pastry and brushed the crumbs from his hands. “Thought you might be interested to know that I finally discovered Allister Norcross’s address. Tracked him down through his tailor.”

“The tailor remembered him?” Gabe asked.

“Tailors always remember their expensive customers,” Spellar said. “This one informed me that he sent Norcross’s bill to Number Fourteen Ransley Square.”

Caleb frowned. “That is a neighborhood of large houses, not a street where a single man would rent lodgings.”

“Norcross was staying at the home of his uncle, who evidently is quite ill. I stopped by on my way here to make inquiries but I was told that the owner of the house was too ill to receive callers.” Spellar smiled. “It occurred to me that perhaps it might be easier for a Jones to get past the front door.”

Caleb looked at the list of names and addresses. The last passages of the maze were suddenly illuminated.

“Ransley Square,” he said. “The bastard is supposed to be dying. If he took Hulsey’s last version of the formula, that is probably exactly what he is doing.”

He had told Lucinda that he could not always understand why people acted the way they did but some motives he comprehended very well, indeed. Vengeance was one of them. And that was all that was left for a man in Ellerbeck’s situation.

He was on his feet and heading for the door without thinking about it, relying entirely on his intuition.

“Out of my way, Spellar,” he said.

“Where are you going?” Gabe called after him.

“Ransley Square. Lucinda is there.”

“You are the one who stole the first plant from my conservatory,” Lucinda said. “Why did you take it?”

“You will recall that immediately after you and the others returned from that last expedition, your father and Woodhall showed me the specimens that had been collected. With my talent, I comprehended the true potential of one of them. But I also knew that Bromley and Woodhall would never allow me to grow it for the purpose I intended.”