Chapter 8
The Edinburgh police were keen for any information that could lead them to the two abducted women. The detective in charge of the case invited us to report in front of several colleagues in the police chambers. Oscar told them about the theft and showed them the effigy.
It did not go well. The policemen returned to their desks, grumbling about their time being wasted. One even accused us of making the effigy ourselves.
“We’re telling the truth,” Oscar said heatedly. “Why would we try to trick you?”
“People do,” Detective Inspector Smith said.
Oscar huffed a frustrated breath. “We should work together. Do you have a telephone? Contact Scotland Yard and speak to D.I. Brockwell. He’ll vouch for us.”
I expected a flat refusal, but the detective obliged.
He disappeared to make the call, and returned several minutes later to advise us that Brockwell had indeed suggested that we could help.
“While ye have my permission tae find out what ye can from witnesses, I’m not convinced your thief and the abductor are the same person. ”
“Why not?” Oscar asked.
D.I. Smith opened the top drawer of his desk and removed two straw effigies of women.
He set them down on the table, and asked Oscar to place our effigy alongside them.
When he did, it became clear they were different.
The two from the abduction sites were twice the size of ours, and the color of the straw was different.
The straw they were made from was lighter, as if it had been exposed to the elements longer.
The general shapes were different too, with ours having limbs that were proportionally too short for the body.
“Now ye see why the men are skeptical of your motives?” D.I. Smith returned the two effigies to his desk drawer. “It’s no’ unusual for crimes that appear in the newspapers to be copied by the public.”
“Why?” I asked.
The detective shrugged. “People are strange, sir.”
Miss Wheeler picked up our effigy and studied it. “We would still like to definitively rule out a link between the theft and abductions. What can you tell us about the women who were taken?”
D.I. Smith hesitated before folding his hands on the desk.
Without referring to his notes, he told us everything he knew in his rhythmic Scottish accent.
It amounted to little more than what we’d read in the newspapers.
The first woman to be abducted was Mary, a housemaid of Mr. Kinloch’s next-door neighbor.
She’d started working there a mere week earlier.
The cotton magician was an excellent seamstress, which was why she’d gained employment in the well-to-do household of a prominent judge.
Mary had been abducted from the mews behind the row of townhouses.
There were no witnesses, despite it being early evening.
For that reason, the police assumed the abductor was someone who wouldn’t be out of place in the mews.
The vicinity was searched, but there was no sign of her.
The abduction of Juliette was somewhat different.
It happened in the early hours of yesterday morning in the private garden square across from her uncle and aunt’s house on Moray Place.
The garden was for the exclusive use of the residents, who all had a key to the gate.
Juliette never returned from her walk. One of the maids saw her enter via the garden gate, and it was she who raised the alarm when Juliette didn’t return.
A search was conducted and neighbors questioned, but only one witness came forward—Mr. Kinloch’s coachman, Blackburn, who thought he heard a woman’s cry coming from the garden shortly after dawn.
Unfortunately, the search was poorly organized and no one could remember if the garden gate was locked or not.
If unlocked, then anyone could have got in.
Otherwise, it had to have been someone with access to a key, because carrying out a struggling woman would have been difficult enough without also maneuvering her over a fence or locked gate.
That was an important point, but even more interesting was the fact that Juliette had recently discovered her magical abilities.
When the laws changed and magicians emerged from hiding, Juliette’s mother revealed she was descended from a line of wool magicians.
She was artless, but when Juliette tried the family spell, it worked.
Four months later, Juliette came to Edinburgh from Aberdeen to visit her uncle and aunt, and disappeared a mere two days later.
D.I. Smith finally unclasped his hands and sat back. “The only thing connecting them is the location—Moray Place—and the fact both are magicians.”
“They are also both women,” Miss Wheeler added. “Did either have a particular gentleman friend?”
“None that we are aware of. If Juliette did, then he would be back in Aberdeen.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Are ye suggesting her suitor followed her here, then abducted her? Why?”
“Perhaps she rejected him. Do you know the reason she came to Edinburgh?”
“A holiday?” He sat forward again. “Miss Wheeler, a well-brought-up young lady doesnae meet her beau in the garden before the household is awake. She meets him in the drawing room with a chaperone present.”
Miss Wheeler laughed without humor. “You may be an excellent detective, sir, but I know young women. Sometimes they arrange to meet their beaus in secret gardens, no matter how well they were brought up.”
“It’ll be a line of questioning for us to follow,” Oscar said quickly. He stood and extended his hand to the detective. “Please let us know if you find anything further, and we will keep you informed as well.”
“This is unconventional. We are no’ sitting idly daein’ nothing. My men have experience with abduction cases.”
“Of course, but it can’t hurt to have more hands on deck, so to speak. We appreciate your faith in us.”
D.I. Smith walked with us out of the busy area crammed with filing cabinets and desks.
Policemen acknowledged him with a nod, some greeting him by name.
He hardly seemed to hear them, however. Before we reached the front reception counter, he stopped.
“I hesitate tae mention this, but I think I ought. Juliette’s uncle and aunt tried bribing me tae keep the whole thing quiet.
They dinnae want the press to find out one of the victims was their niece. ”
“That’s understandable,” Oscar said. “The press can be relentless once they find an angle to their story, and being the niece of a prominent couple is quite an enticing angle.”
“Juliette’s mam came down from Aberdeen as soon as she heard and is fair upset.” The detective shook his finger at Oscar. “Dinnae speak to her and upset her more.”
“Speaking of the press,” Oscar added, “are you going to warn the newspaper that accused Kinloch of the abductions to leave him alone?”
“They can print what they like. I cannae legally stop them.”
“You can if their accusation inflames the public, who in turn cause a disturbance, or worse, harm Kinloch.” When the detective continued walking without responding, Oscar dogged his steps.
“At least remind the editor that his journalists need evidence and a convincing motive. Blaming Kinloch based on a long-dead ancestor’s zealotry is not enough. ”
D.I. Smith reached the front counter where members of the public came to report crimes, or to collect friends or family members held overnight in the cells for minor offences. “Ye havenae seen this morning’s news, have ye?”
Oscar, Miss Wheeler and I exchanged looks and shook our heads.
D.I. Smith picked up a newspaper from the counter. “Seems they found a better reason tae accuse Kinloch. One I can agree is a solid motive.”
I quickly scanned the article. By the time I reached the end, I could see the detective’s point.
The journalist suggested that Kinloch wanted to get rid of the two women because he owned a wool mill that had been turning a good profit until magicians set up rival businesses.
His mill had been experimenting with blends of wool and cotton to produce softer, lighter textiles.
The experiments had cost him a great deal over many years, with his creditors promised a substantial return when he found the right blend.
But no one could have foreseen the reemergence of magicians peddling their luxury goods. Cotton and wool magicians joined forces and within weeks had created a blend that was far superior to Kinloch’s efforts.
“I thought he made whiskey,” I said.
“That’s just a wee project on the side,” D.I. Smith said. “The mill has been in his family for generations. Now it’s worthless.”
“Are the two missing women related to his business rivals?” Miss Wheeler asked.
“No, but the journalist speculates that Kinloch is not right in the head and took the lassies tae punish all cotton and wool magicians.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think I need more evidence. If ye find some, let me ken straight away.”
A thin, worn-out woman bumped me as she clipped a youth over the head with the back of her hand then ordered him to get home where his Da would deal with him.
While her loud admonishing caught the attention of the others waiting and many of the policeman, it was the man standing at the counter that interested me.
I tapped Oscar’s arm. “That’s Kinloch’s butler, Redmayne.”
Oscar followed my gaze. “What’s he doing here?”
“Shall we ask him?”
Miss Wheeler didn’t wait for Oscar’s answer. She strode up to Redmayne as he turned away from the counter after speaking to the sergeant on duty. Behind me, D.I. Smith muttered something about meddling women before joining her.
“Good morning, Redmayne,” Miss Wheeler said cheerfully. “Do you remember me from last evening?”
The butler was surprised to see her, but quickly schooled his features, so that by the time we greeted him, he’d resumed an imperiously indifferent expression. “Indeed, I do.”
“Is there a problem at Mr. Kinloch’s house?” she asked.