Chapter Forty-One
Forty-One
I’m at home, in my room, writing to my parents.
Arthur Conan Doyle. I’m still convinced I heard wrong. I knew he was Scottish, and that he moved around as a kid—dad was an alcoholic, couldn’t keep a job. I also know he definitely believed in ghosts. And fairies.
I also think I know why the corner where Art lived looked familiar. Because at some point, someone—probably you, Dad—pointed it out to me in the modern day and said that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once lived there.
I keep joking to Duncan about Sherlock Holmes, about me accidentally calling Duncan a “consulting detective” and him liking it, and how I’ve screwed up the timelines. Now I’ve met Doyle, and I may have inadvertently planted a seed.
But Sherlock Holmes already existed before I came back in time. So is it a pure coincidence? Or have I always been here, in some kind of time loop, where I always met Doyle and he always knew about Duncan and—
As much as I love science, I hate time-travel science. Since no one is ever going to explain my situation to me, I need to stop trying to unravel it.
As for whether Nellie’s ghost could have actually reached out, I don’t even know what to think.
My mind wants to come up with a dozen other explanations, but maybe Hugh is right.
As a time traveler from the future, I probably shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss anything that seems impossible.
I just might not mention that part to Duncan.
Speaking of which, did I mention that Duncan and I are together? As in, we’re dating? No big deal, and I won’t bore you with the details.
Bye for now!
I grin to myself as I fold up the letter. Good thing my parents can’t reach through time, or they’d throttle me for that last bit. I’ll tell them more later. I’ll just let them stew for now, so they don’t ever forget what a pain-in-the-ass daughter they raised.
At a rap on my door, my grin grows. It’s not Gray, but someone I’m just as happy to see. I call a greeting as I tuck the letter under the loose floorboard.
“Writing to your parents,” Isla says as she sweeps in, the faint smell of violets telling me she’s not dressed in her finest for dinner at home.
“Yep.”
“Lots to tell them?”
“Enough.” I straighten. “Dinner with a detective, I presume?”
“Dinner with two detectives.”
“Ah, taking Duncan along? That’s good. He needs to get out now and then.”
“You know I mean you. And Duncan. A celebratory dinner for four.”
“You’re taking us out to celebrate the case? Or to celebrate Hugh snatching the credit from Detective Crichton? Or Gray being able to oh-so-politely stick it to the superintendent and the procurator fiscal and prove his autopsy results were correct?”
She pauses. “You closed the case? And Hugh and Duncan are getting proper credit? Then we have many reasons to celebrate.” She walks over to embrace me. “My apologies. I have been distracted, and I had no idea.”
I pull back. “So that’s not what we’re celebrating. Wait, you’ve been distracted all day. Holy shit, does that mean…?”
She beams. “Possibly.”
“You’re pregnant?” I tease. “That’s so great. I know how much you guys want to have kids, and I’m thrilled that you’re moving right along with that.”
She shakes her head. “We are engaged, Mallory. That is the customary first step.”
“Sure, if you want to be all ‘customary’ about it.” I pull her into a tight hug. “Congratulations. It’s about time, but mostly, congratulations.”
“It did not take that long. We only had a few loose ends to tie up first. I was not completely oblivious to the position I was putting you in, but now it seems my mother is coming for an extended visit. Well, not too extended. Just long enough to see me married and play lady of the house until you take over.”
“I—”
“And do not give me that. Anyone who has spent two minutes with you and Duncan these last couple of days knows that Hugh and I aren’t the only ones who have finally made progress in that direction.
” She pats my back. “You two are keeping quiet so you do not steal my thunder. Unnecessary, but I appreciate such consideration. I have the best brother and the best dear friend.” She leans to whisper.
“And soon I will have the best sister as well.”
“You already do.”
“I have Annis, who is not the best sister even when there is no competition for the title. Now, let us pick out a dinner dress for you. Hugh has made arrangements at the finest restaurant in Edinburgh. He will not tell me what it is, but he assures me, it will be worthy of our celebration.”
“Which means it’s definitely the best. As you both deserve.”
She flushes and then taps my arm. “Enough of that. Let us pick out your dress.”
We celebrate long into the night. Celebrate Isla and Hugh’s engagement only. We sure as hell aren’t dragging our closed case into that. Tonight is all about them.
We have an appointment at the palace for tea the next day.
Which means we have less than twenty-four hours to get a rough draft of our new adventure.
The illustrations will need to wait, but we can get a single copy printed, and that’s what I’m leafing through in the library the next day, with Isla and Jack looking like wilting maidens in need of smelling salts.
“I deserve extra pay for that,” Jack moans. “I have never written so fast in my life. I fear it is a mess.”
“It was,” Isla says. “Which is why I am joining you in moaning exhaustion. I have never edited so much in my life.”
“Hey, I proofread,” I say. “And I provided the original story at six this morning while nursing a hangover. We all get extra pay, including Simon for running it to the printers. And Alice for picking up our slack around the house. Also, the guy who is paying us all that extra is the one who’s been gone all day while we work. ”
“Oh, I am certain Duncan is doing something very important. Like combing the market, searching for just the right gift for his true love.”
I roll my eyes.
Jack looks between us. “Did I miss something?”
“No,” I say. “Just Isla being silly.”
“Uh, no,” Jack says. “If you didn’t jump in with some sarcastic rejoinder, that can only mean she’s not baiting you. You and—”
“Oh, look at the time,” Isla says. “You have an audience with the Queen in an hour. Come upstairs. This time, you will be dressed properly.”
Gray and I are in the coach, headed for the palace, and I finally see the true advantage of having a vehicle that also conveys grieving relatives to the kirkyard.
It comes with black curtains, to give privacy to the grief-stricken, and people know what an all-black vehicle means and do not question those curtains being drawn.
So Gray and I can do whatever we like on the slow ride through the city.
Okay, we can’t do whatever I’d like because apparently someone is sticking to his resolution. I’ll grumble, of course. He likes it when I grumble because that means that I want what he’s withholding.
“I missed you today,” Gray says as I lean against him.
“I missed you, too. I missed your help.”
He pulls back to arch one brow. “With what?”
I fix him with a look. “You know full well that we had to get that”—I point at the new installments—“done before this visit.”
“Of course, which is why I vacated the premises. For everyone’s good. Otherwise, you would have asked me to read the story, and I would have questioned every line of creative license and driven you all mad wanting to know why this was changed and that was exaggerated and—”
“Fine, fine.” I kiss him. “Thank you for leaving us with all the work, though I can’t believe I’m saying that.”
“I had reason to go,” he says. “And not simply because my presence would have only impeded progress.”
He reaches into his breast pocket, from which he extracts a small silk pouch. He hands it to me.
“Happy two-day anniversary.”
I sputter a laugh. “You know, Isla did joke that you were off getting me a gift.”
“Because my sister knows me well. Now open it.”
I undo the pouch and turn it upside down to let the contents fall into my hand. Four silver rods.
“Are these…?” I hold one up. “Lockpicks?”
“Remember when we snuck through that thieves’ den?
With its lock puzzles for training new recruits?
You said you would like lessons. It took me a while, but I did not forget.
Hugh has recommended a former thief who now uses his skills to test locks for businesses.
You will begin lessons next week.” He brushes a strand of hair from my shoulder and murmurs, “I hope you will not mind if I join you.”
I kiss him again, pouring in all my appreciation for such a thoughtful gift.
“Happy two-day anniversary to you, too,” I murmur.
“And that is not all, because while I do wish to celebrate our new relationship, I believe we should also celebrate the conclusion of the case. A gift for both of us.”
He reaches back into that pocket and withdraws a polished wood container, about half the size of a cigar box. Instead of handing it over, he pops the lid. It’s a business-card holder, and inside are printed cards.
Mitchell & Gray Detective Agency
12 Robert Street, Edinburgh
By Appointment Only
My eyes fill with tears as I look up at him.
“I was inclined to put your name only,” he says, “as you are the detective. But I know you wanted a partnership. So I put you first. The design needs work. An extra line perhaps, something creative, which is not my forte.”
“A tag line.”
“I thought of ‘murder and cases of forensic interest preferred,’ but that seemed too blunt.”
I laugh softly. “Just a bit. But the principle applies. We’ll have Jack write us something.” I lift out a card and read it again, feeling my heart flutter. Then I look at him. “So it’s real? You mean it? A detective agency?”
He answers by pulling me into a kiss.