Chapter 39
Kendra felt human again after the hot bath, although she had to endure Molly’s lecture about ruining her half-boots and risking her life. Both seemed to be of equal concern to the maid.
Dressed in a velvet gown of deep indigo with a cashmere shawl for extra warmth, Kendra made her way to the library. She found herself appreciating the lemon and beeswax scents of furniture polish after the drainage systems of London.
She heard voices before she entered the library.
Alec was leaning against the fireplace, and God, the man was gorgeous.
He’d changed into an exquisitely tailored black jacket, burnished gold vest, and beige pantaloons tucked into a fresh pair of boots.
She tore her gaze from his to scan the other occupants in the room.
She’d expected Sam, who had a glass of whisky in his hand, but she was surprised to see Rebecca and Muldoon sitting on the sofa.
“You’re looking better, sweet,” Alec remarked, peeling himself away from the mantel to move to the sideboard. He poured her a glass of wine and brought it over with a smile. “Smell better too.”
“I should. Molly threw in enough bath salts and oils to make the Thames smell like a garden. Thanks.” She took the wineglass and looked to Rebecca. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I’m on my way to a musical recital at Lady Chevallier’s and thought to persuade you to accompany me. Of course, that was before I found out you nearly drowned.” Concern darkened her eyes. “Dear heaven, Kendra. How are you?”
Kendra thought she saw something else in Rebecca’s eyes—a remembered horror. Almost a year ago, the aristocrat had nearly drowned in the Thames.
“I’m fine,” she assured her. “But I don’t think I’m up for a musical recital.”
“Mr. Kelly was telling us that you may have found Edwina,” Rebecca went on.
Kendra took a long sip of her wine. “I never got close enough to identify her. I’m hoping she was part of the group of kids that I chased into the aqueduct. I could only give them my name and address. If she wasn’t with them, I’m hoping they know her and pass on my information.”
Sam looked at Alec. “Who was the bloke spying on us?”
“I wish I knew.” Alec’s face hardened. “The blasted man ran off before I could get to the top of the embankment. I was never close enough to get a proper look at him, although he appeared to be the same height and build as the man Bridget saw running after Edwina.”
“I can’t imagine he’s one of your suspects,” Muldoon said, glancing at the slate board.
“They’re all physicians, sawbones, and apprentices.
I’d think they’re too busy to be following you.
Most likely, he was someone hired to keep an eye on Lady Sutcliffe.
Everyone knows she’s the one leading the investigation.
Would make sense to watch her, like they were watching Lady Westford. ”
Kendra shook her head. “They probably have someone watching me, but not someone off the streets. Hired help might talk or blackmail. They need someone loyal to the cause.”
Rebecca lifted an eyebrow. “The cause? You make it sound like a revolution.”
“For them, it is. The men involved are dedicated to finding a cure for syphilis, which is a noble pursuit. Except they’ve crossed ethical boundaries. Exitus acta probat. Finding a cure to the disease could justify anything—even murder.”
A somber silence followed her words.
Muldoon broke it by clearing his throat.
“Before we went mudlarking, Mr. Kelly sent me a list of names and asked me to research whether any on the list owned property with a basement or an ice house, focusing north of the Thames. Was Dr. Munroe’s friend really able to determine where the body had been based on dirt? ” He sounded amazed.
“Yeah, although that dirt covers a wide area,” Kendra replied. “Did you find out anything that could narrow our list of suspects?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, pulling a notebook from his pocket.
He flipped it open. “Most of the gentlemen on the list rent rooms, so no basement or ice house. Sir Preston owns the largest house. Not surprising, I suppose. But I can’t imagine him conducting illegal experiments out of it.
He has a wife and a rather large staff.”
“We were at Sir Preston’s last night,” Kendra said. “You’re right about the staff and lack of privacy.”
“And he’s too old ter be the man that Bridget saw,” Sam added.
Kendra looked at the Bow Street Runner. “Yes, but he could still be involved with the experiments.”
“Mr. Beane lives in a small townhouse that he inherited from an uncle,” Muldoon continued. “He has a maid-of-all-work and a cook who come in daily. No ice house. I don’t know if there’s a basement, but I don’t think the maid or cook would look kindly on a dead woman being kept there.”
“That’s assuming they knew a dead woman was in the basement,” Kendra commented. “Still, it would be difficult to conduct the experiments without their knowledge.”
“Mr. Dawes lives in an impressive manor with a basement, and which may have an ice house—”
“How does an apprentice afford that?” Kendra asked.
“Simple: by living with his stepfather, who happens to be a real estate tycoon.” Muldoon grinned at her.
Kendra recalled that it was Dawes’s stepfather, Mr. Stevens, who owned the building Goldsten rented for his clinic.
The reporter sighed. “To think I could’ve been living grand like Mr. Dawes if me mother had met Mr. Stevens before the Widow Dawes. Only one thing that prevented that from happening.”
“And what was that, Mr. Muldoon?” Rebecca inquired.
“Me father would have objected.”
Rebecca laughed.
Sam snorted. “Like Sir Preston, privacy would be a problem. He’d hardly be able to conduct experiments under his mother and stepfather’s noses.”
Kendra surveyed the names of the slate board. “What about Burnell and Dandridge?”
“Mr. Dandridge is one of the men who rents rooms. However, Mr. Burnell owns a small cottage in Highgate. He doesn’t have a basement or ice house on the property, but he does have privacy. His neighbors said that he doesn’t have any servants and he keeps to himself. They don’t like him.”
“You spoke to the neighbors?”
Muldoon lifted his chin a notch as he met Kendra’s gaze. “I spoke to all the neighbors of the names on your list, my lady. It’s what I do.”
“I’m aware. It’s why I wanted you on my team.” And that was the only compliment she was going to give the man. “Go on.”
His mouth twitched as if he were suppressing a smile.
“I chatted with the Widow Shaw, who was tending to her garden next to Mr. Burnell’s cottage.
She told me that he moved in two years ago.
When she heard he was a widower, she thought that gave them something in common.
” Now the twitch became a grin. “Personally, I think she had high hopes of springing the parson’s mousetrap on him—”
“We don’t need to know about Mrs. Shaw’s marital ambitions,” Kendra cut in dryly.
The reporter laughed. “Yes, well, she doesn’t have any marital ambitions anymore, leastwise with Mr. Burnell. She described him as a cold fish. Stiff-rumped. Mean-spirited—”
“We get the picture.”
“Widow Shaw said that the neighborhood was friendly, but Mr. Burnell was disliked by all, and they were grateful that he was never at home.”
Now that was new information. “Never?”
Muldoon shrugged. “She could’ve been exaggerating a bit.”
Kendra glanced at Sam. “Burnell said he was home alone during both murders.”
“I reckon we need ter quiz him about that.”
“Yes, we should.” She smiled briefly, then shifted her attention back to the slate board. “They’re not conducting their experiments out of their homes, so they must have another place. Same criteria—private, with some kind of subterranean chamber, north of the Thames . . .”
She took a breath when it came to her. “Blackfriars.”
Muldoon eyed her. “As much as it would help me to narrow down my research, I have to ask, why there, specifically?”
“Because that’s where Lady Westford first saw Clarice with Goldsten.” God, it was so obvious, she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. “She jumped to the conclusion that they had a personal relationship, but what if Clarice was getting treatment nearby?”
“A chance encounter was what started this entire thing?” Rebecca shook her head in amazement.
“This thing—the experiments—was going on before,” Kendra said. “But, yes, it was the start of Lady Westford’s involvement. Wrong place, wrong time.”
Rebecca let out a sigh, then pushed herself to her feet. “I must go. It’s one thing to be fashionably late for Lady Chevallier’s performance, but to miss most of it would be unforgivably rude.”
Muldoon stood as well. “I shall walk you to your carriage, my lady.”
The color rose in Rebecca’s cheeks. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured.
Kendra watched them leave. Apparently, whatever issues there had been between them had been resolved. Or maybe dealing with death made one realize how short life can be.
“I’d best go, as well.” Sam drained his whisky, looked regretfully at the empty glass, then put it on the table.
“Low tide’ll be around four in the morning.
I’m gonna get a few winks in before roundin’ up the lads.
I’ll have them positioned around the aqueduct.
We can nab the little scamps when they come out of their hole. ”
“Smart.” Kendra nodded her approval as she followed him to the door. “If you get Edwina, bring her here. I don’t care what time it is.”
Sam met her eyes. “Aye, lass. If we get her, I will.”