Chapter Fifteen
FIFTEEN
Breakfast is over. It was lovely. Especially the bannock and blackberry jam. Did I get some petty pleasure out of eating them? Yes, but what I really wish for is the petty pleasure of seeing Dr. Addington fired from his position. That won’t happen. No one even speculates that it might.
Seeing him fired would require a screwup of epic proportions.
He’s capable of making such a mistake. I have faith in him.
The problem is that a screwup on that level means Gray would need to step away as his fail-safe …
and to do that means sacrificing a murder investigation, letting a killer go free, and seeing no justice for the victim.
No, it would actually require discovering that the wrong person was convicted and hanged. That would be like Gray and McCreadie watching Addington stumble and stepping aside to let him fall on—and crush—an innocent civilian.
This doesn’t mean McCreadie isn’t more furious than I’ve ever seen him, and Isla has to ask Jack to keep Alice out of earshot of the profanities. Oh, Alice has heard them all—she grew up on the streets. But Isla still asks, and Jack still obeys without comment.
Addington has one job, and to blithely pass on the responsibility to someone who isn’t a public servant is audacity beyond belief. But a complaint would go nowhere, because sitting at the top of that administrative ladder is Addington Senior.
Addington Senior would agree that if his son believes an autopsy isn’t necessary, that’s his prerogative.
If Gray believes an autopsy is required, well, he should just count himself lucky that Addington is generous enough to let him do it.
McCreadie predicts no consequences for Addington but also no obstacle to Gray proceeding, which is ultimately what we need.
McCreadie finishes breakfast as quickly as he can.
Then he’s off to start the administrative ball rolling, and we’re stuck waiting for that answer.
We consider returning to the case, but now that we know Nellie’s dead, it’s a police matter.
We’ll have some leeway there, yet we need to step back and cede authority to the police.
We should probably go to bed, considering Gray got zero sleep and I had very little. Instead, we’re in the library, nursing spiked coffee because it’s not actually ten in the morning if you’ve been up since midnight, right?
Isla had to take off on an errand. Before she left, we discussed the ethics of not telling Lady Adler about Nellie’s death right away.
Isla did offer to convey the news herself but, in the end, I suggested that leapfrogging over the police was actually more unethical.
We have an apparent murder victim. That means the police need to notify the next of kin so they can gauge reactions and conduct the initial interviews.
In this case, Lady Adler isn’t even kin.
We don’t know who that is. Either way, though, we need to wait for the police to deliver that news.
So Isla went out on her errand with Mrs. Wallace, leaving Gray and me to do whatever we want with our coffee, including generously spiking it with booze.
“This is a mess,” Gray says, when we’re definitely alone with our drinks. “From start to finish, an unholy mess of a case.”
“I’m—”
He cuts me off with a wave of his teacup. “And do not say you are sorry. None of this has anything to do with you.”
“I could joke about being Canadian. Apologies are our mother tongue. But really, it’s not me apologizing for doing something wrong. It’s me expressing sympathy for you having to deal with it.”
He sighs. “I know, and I also know I am being what you call cranky.”
“You have reason to be.”
“Do I? With the Addington situation, I am the one who set that up. I gave him an inch and he has taken a mile, except he is also giving me what I ultimately want, so how do I complain?”
“He’s taking advantage of you. It doesn’t matter if you’d rather conduct the autopsy yourself. He isn’t asking you to do it. He’s sure as hell not recognizing your superior talents. He’s treating you like the hired help.”
“But it is more than that. I did not like this case from the start. Summoned in the night because a ghost asked for me? The ghost of a missing maid? Clearly the girl left her post and is fine.” He looks at me. “I did not like it then, and I like it even less now.”
“The séance gives us a place to start, though. Someone in that room knew Nellie was dead. That person almost certainly killed her. We could be looking at a locked-room mystery.”
“Poorly done, though, is it not? Commit a murder that looks like a suicide and ruin it by admitting you know the girl is dead? Revealing it was a homicide? Summoning a private detective?”
I prop my feet on the stool. “Criminals aren’t as smart as we might think. They might not have connected the dots. It seemed a thrilling idea to contact the ghost of someone nobody realized is dead. And then it’s ‘What do you mean that makes us all prime suspects?’”
He drums his fingers on the chair arm. “I am very uncomfortable with what happened to the body.” A long pause, and he glances at the door before lowering his voice. “I blame myself.”
I bite back a smile at the way he says that, being so careful that no one else overhears him taking blame. “Unless you told those students to steal corpses, Duncan, it’s not your fault.” I lift a finger. “Which I know you didn’t do. You mean you feel responsible because they were emulating you.”
“That Nunn fellow reached out multiple times. Had he asked to watch me examine a corpse, I would have arranged something. I prefer my privacy, but I cannot resist the opportunity to teach a subject I am passionate about.”
“And I appreciate that myself.”
“But he did not ask to observe. He wanted your job. Said it as blithely as Addington telling me to do his job. He expected me to be happy to have an actual medical student, just as you should be happy to be ‘relieved’ of your position. That boy knows nothing about you, and yet he declares you unfit.”
“Unlike Addington, who can’t help but know how qualified you are and still lords it over you.”
Gray slumps, hand running through his hair, sending it toppling over his forehead. “You are more offended by Addington’s treatment of me than I am, and I was more offended by Nunn’s dismissal of you than you seem to be.”
I shrug. “I know I’m qualified—at least with the detective parts. Just like you know you’re more qualified to do the autopsy than Addington.”
“Yes, well, when Nunn thought he could take your job, I decided he was not someone I wished to help. So I did not offer to let him sit in on an examination, and when he continued to send me letters, I did not open them.” He pauses.
“When I saw what happened last night, I had the worst suspicion. So, earlier, I opened them, and I discovered I was correct. Nunn asked how to obtain corpses for examination. Then he said he had found a way to do so and would ‘offer’ me the opportunity to use those corpses if I would let him and his companions sit in.”
“It’s still not your fault.”
“Hmm.”
I tap his foot with my slipper. “Not your fault, Duncan. If you’d opened those letters, you would have turned them over to the authorities, but then all three young men would be expelled and maybe…” I shrug. “Maybe that’s not what all three deserved.”
He takes a drink of his coffee. “Yes, it is what I would have done, and yes, I do not think all three deserve expulsion. But I fear this is not going to be the only incident of its kind. As my studies become better known, through Jack’s chronicles, will I inadvertently encourage young medical students to emulate my studies? To think my work sounds exciting and…”
“Steal bodies to conduct private forensic examinations? First, anytime you want those chronicles stopped, they stop. You know that. But I think this is a problem we can’t ever solve.
If crime fiction becomes popular, does it encourage people to commit crimes?
Does it encourage them to play detective and blame innocent people?
I don’t think so. Look at the Newgate Calendar.
It shared crime stories to show people the penalties.
That sounds laughable—people read them for entertainment.
But can it discourage crime? If people think detectives are magicians, might that make them think twice?
And if crime fiction shows the devastation caused by crime—to the victims and their families, the perpetrators and their families—maybe that is an even better deterrent. ”
“I can see that.”
“If those stories include your science, is it possible that med students could steal a body to do a little forensics of their own? Apparently, yes. But isn’t it even more likely that students—or children who’ll be students someday—will be fascinated by your work and find their way into the field legitimately?
You just had three interested medical students.
Clearly Nunn shouldn’t be encouraged because he has no empathy for the dead.
But his companions? Maybe they strike the right balance of interest, aptitude, and empathy.
As the song goes, two out of three ain’t bad. ”
He only shakes his head at the modern reference, having learned it’s best not to pursue them.
I continue, “You aren’t responsible for those students. Not even if they come to you for mentoring. It’s your choice to give them what you can, while maintaining your boundaries, which you are very good at.”
A small smile. “Too good?”
“Healthy boundaries are healthy. Nunn reached out. You said no. If he kept pushing, that was on him. You didn’t encourage him, and you don’t need to encourage him just because he’s interested in your field. It’s your choice.”