Lady of Ashes, page 37
part #1 of Lady of Ashes Mystery Series
Among the letters and bills were two pieces that caused Violet’s heart to jump. First was a note from Mary, requesting to come by later in the day to speak with Violet. Mary had never seen it necessary to make a formal request before, but then, Violet had never accused her of kidnapping before. Violet owed her friend an apology, even though she wasn’t convinced George Cooke was innocent.
She asked Harry to run over to Mary’s shop and tell her she was welcome to visit anytime this afternoon.
The second piece of mail was another . . . taunt . . . from Susanna’s kidnapper. Violet sat down to read it, anxious over its contents, yet hopeful that this time he would make an actual demand. She was finally rewarded.
I hold her in dread,
We’re waiting for you,
The lion gets fed,
At a quarter of two.
Don’t lose your head,
You know what to do,
Come alone or she’s dead,
You’re my real goal, it’s true.
Susanna was still alive. Violet didn’t permit herself even a moment to weep with relief. She needed to figure out what was next, although the answer seemed obvious.
The kidnapper held Susanna at the zoo, or was at least taking her there this afternoon. He planned to lure Violet there to kill her. Susanna’s eventual fate was unclear.
Her last experience having to do with the zoo in Regent’s Park was her mother-in-law’s goring by a rhinoceros. She shuddered. Such a fatal outcome would not be in Susanna’s future. Nor hers.
Violet glanced at her watch. It was nearly noon. She had to prepare.
She wrote Sam a note and left it for him in an envelope on the counter, assuming he would be by soon for what had become a daily visit. “Will,” she said to her assistant as she fastened on her hat and gloves, “I think I know where Susanna is and I’m off to retrieve her. Make sure Mr. Harper gets this note.”
“Truly, Mrs. Morgan? Where is she?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Just be sure he sees the note when he stops by.”
“But—”
Violet didn’t stop to listen in her haste to leave. She walked home and prepared herself for what would happen this afternoon, changing into a less restrictive corset to wear under her black dress and choosing sturdy boots to replace her regular heeled shoes.
She packed a bag with a change of clothes for Susanna, a wedge of cheese as a snack for her, and a knife from the kitchen drawer. Violet had no idea if she had the nerve to kill another human being, but if it came down to her or Susanna’s kidnapper, or if he threatened Susanna in any way, well, Violet would not be responsible for her ensuing rage.
After kneeling at the foot of Susanna’s bed in a quick prayer for success and assuring Mrs. Softpaws, who had hardly left Susanna’s bed in days, that Susanna would be home soon, Violet left, taking a hack to Regent’s Park. The zoo was on the eastern edge of the park, the grounds of which were once filled with fashionable company promenading through its gardens bursting into showy displays of flowers. Today, though, the average citizen found pleasure in the tastefully laid out parterres and zoological attractions.
Violet paid her fee at the entrance gate, located at the right edge of the zoo, and joined the other patrons in a stroll in and among the animal houses and dens in order to find her bearings throughout the park, which might be critical later.
The zoo reminded her of Kensal Green Cemetery, with its winding paths around the various buildings containing animals, and a spiked iron fence surrounding the entire property.
Violet walked along as nonchalantly as possible. She hoped the crunch of gravel under her feet covered the sound of her hammering heart. The zoo’s main path led west back to the bear pit, from the center of which a pole with steps extended up so that the bears could ascend and descend from the pit. A low wall topped with iron rails surrounded the pit. A crowd of visitors were at the spot, offering cakes and fruit to the small black bear that had come up for a look around. An attendant fed the treats to the bear on a long pole, and the bear scooped at them with his paws. Violet imagined it would take little effort for the bear to overcome the wall if he so desired.
Behind the bear pit were buildings for a herd of kangaroos, hyenas with their high-pitched barking and yowls, and raccoons. No lions yet.
The pathway veered off to the south, and Violet found an enclosed area and fountain for aquatic birds, such as geese, pelicans, and swans, to her left and an unusual building on her right that looked almost like a Chinese pagoda. She entered it, struck by the pungent odor inside, and discovered a pair of llamas who were distinctly unimpressed by the gawkers waiting for them to do something amusing. Violet left the llama hut and continued on the path, estimating that she was now about two hundred feet away from the entrance.
The path curved back to the west again, this time to a circular aviary for birds of prey. Violet stopped there briefly, imagining a hawk tearing the flesh from the kidnapper’s face. She looked at her watch again. One o’clock; she needed to finish her survey of the zoo.
Beyond the aviary was a tented refreshment stand, with a scattering of white-clothed tables where patrons sat and enjoyed teas and cakes. It was an elegant setting in such malodorous, cacophonous surroundings. Beyond that were a zebra pen, an enclosure for tortoises, and a set of strange little houses on poles that had monkeys shimmying up and down them as they screeched in protest at some unseen transgressor. One of the monkeys had escaped from his habitat and was begging for food from visitors.
Farther back was an expanse of acreage that looked more recently developed. The buildings were newer and the grounds freshly landscaped. At the entry to this area was a camel house. A short clock tower protruded from the center of the camel house’s roof. Nearly a quarter past one. Violet continued on through the flow of people to another animal house.
Ah, here were the nearsighted and ferocious rhinoceroses. Violet hurried through this enclosure, unwilling to dwell on Ida Morgan’s death. How very dangerous zoos could be.
Further enclosures held other treacherous beasts, including leopards, tigers, and jackals. Finally she reached the place which she had been searching for with trepidation, the lions’ den. A fluffy-maned male and several females restlessly paced the barren enclosure, which smelled musky and stale. One of the females bared her teeth at another who passed by too closely. A wrought iron fence separated the restless animals from spectators. Violet was alone in the den; the only sounds were the padding of cats’ paws across the dirt and an occasional warning growl.
She didn’t like this place one bit, yet she had to remain and study the location. There was only a single doorway in and out of the oval-shaped den, which was larger than most of the zoo’s other structures. Gas lamps lined the walls, although they provided little light as compared to the partially glassed roof that admitted not only light but warmth.
The den’s interior was divided by a fence, which gave visitors about a ten-foot-wide walking area and left around forty feet across for the animals. A padlocked gate in the middle of the fence provided zookeepers access to the beasts. Signs on posts along the pathway in front of the fencing gave the visitor information about the lions’ eating habits, their natural habitat back in Kenya, and how the animals came into the possession of the zoological society.
Other than that, there was nothing else inside the lions’ den. The kidnapper couldn’t hide anywhere, yet neither could Violet.
Mary arrived at Morgan Undertaking, only to discover that Violet had gone home for the day.
“Didn’t you just bring me a message a short while ago that Mrs. Morgan welcomed my visit?”
Will apologized. “Mrs. Morgan said she thought she may have discovered where Miss Susanna is, but left in such a hurry I couldn’t really understand what she meant. She left a note for Mr. Harper.”
“But not for me?”
“No, Mrs. Overfelt, I’m sorry.”
Since she’d already closed her own shop for the day, she decided to seek Violet out at her home. It was important that Mary tell her what had happened.
There was no answer when she rang the bell at Violet’s townhome. She rang again and followed it up with several knocks. No sign of life breathed behind the door.
How very curious. First Violet came to her with the most outlandish claims, then she disappeared from her shop with momentous news, yet hardly an explanation.
Had Violet done it intentionally, to force Mary to waste her time coming to Morgan Undertaking and then chasing her down at home?
Perhaps, but the idea didn’t sit well. Certainly Violet had been acting strangely, both toward her and George, but since her friend’s outburst Mary had come to realize that Violet was simply overwhelmed with grief and worry.
George agreed with her, too. She glanced fondly at the ruby and pearl ring that now adorned her finger. As she’d hoped would happen, George proposed marriage, his romantic gesture marred only by the memory of Violet’s visit that night, but she would never forget the moment he slipped the ring—an heirloom he said had passed down through his mother’s side of the family from one of James II’s mistresses—onto her hand. His subsequent kiss at her acceptance was tender and joyful. George had reawakened feelings in her she’d thought buried forever.
Now she wanted to share her good news with Violet, as well as to try to ascertain how her friend had developed her unfounded suspicions against her and George, but Violet was nowhere to be found. This just wasn’t like her. And what was this about Susanna possibly being found?
She looked out into the street below. Nothing but a few nannies walking their charges in perambulators and gossiping with one another. Across the street, an identical row of townhomes faced Violet’s. Should she try visiting some of these homes and asking if the occupants had an idea where Violet was? Mary shook her head. It was more likely that Mr. Harper knew of Violet’s whereabouts. If only she could remember where Violet had once told her he was staying.
The minister asked Samuel to meet him at his residence to discuss the latest news on commerce raiders. Before Samuel could finish his report, which was that the commerce raiders he was watching had made contact with Mr. Slade, the criminal known for financing illicit sea voyages such as that of the Morgan brothers, Charles Francis Adams interrupted him.
“Harper, you look dreadful. When was the last time you slept?” Slept in more than random snatches? A lifetime ago.
“I’m fine, sir. I suspect the London air doesn’t agree with me.”
“Nor does it agree with me, but it would seem the air is practically swallowing you whole. Care to join us for luncheon? We received a fresh batch of clams from Boston. It’s being made up into chowder. A fond memory of home, I think.”
“I should probably leave after we discuss what to do next about Mr. Slade. I typically stop each afternoon by—”
“Nonsense. No man from the Bay State can resist a bowl of clam chowder. We can talk more over our meal. In fact, you can even tell me of your quest for Mrs. Morgan’s kidnapper.”
The minister was feeling generous today. Maybe if Sam shared what was happening, Adams would reconsider his involvement. It was worth a try. Of course, Sam was visiting Morgan Undertaking with regularity each afternoon, so Violet was probably expecting him, but surely she wouldn’t mind if he was late. In fact, he’d visit her home later in the evening, just to check on her.
“I guess it would be to my own gastric detriment to say no to clam chowder.”
“That’s settled, then.” Adams reached for a bell pull, summoning a servant to let him know to make one extra place for dinner.
Finished with her survey of the lions’ den interior, Violet stepped outside in order to walk around the exterior of the building. There was a single, locked zookeeper access door at the rear of the building. A large, stuffed canvas bag marked “Deer—Killed Tuesday” was propped against it. Did the lions have a two o’clock feeding time? Would a zookeeper’s arrival scare off Susanna’s kidnapper?
Almost half past one. Where was Sam? She needed to finish exploring the area surrounding the lions’ den. She resumed her walk along the zoo path, coming to an enclosure of peacocks, both females with their dull markings and males strutting about with their bright plumage on display. One of the males emitted a bloodcurdling shriek that so unnerved Violet, already tense from the situation, that she jumped back and dropped her bag. She bent over to pick it up and, when she rose again, saw a vaguely familiar woman approaching from the opposite direction. Violet frowned. Where had she seen her before? The woman noticed Violet’s stare and slowed in recognition, as well.
“Mrs. . . . Morgan, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, but forgive me, I can’t quite place you . . .”
“I’m Mrs. Barrett. We were in the Clayton Tunnel crash together.”
Ah, of course. The widow Violet suspected was merely an abused wife. Mrs. Barrett looked much healthier and happier than she had on the train.
“I’m glad to see you survived. I wondered about it when we didn’t see you again.”
“We? I take it your daughter is well, too?”
“Yes, thanks be to God she had no real injuries. As for me . . .” Violet held up her arm, unbuttoned her cuff, and pushed up the sleeve.
“Ah, how terrible for you. I should very much enjoy a chat together. Care to join me for some tea at the refreshment stand?”
Violet glanced in the direction of the lions’ den. “I’m afraid I don’t have time today. I have another engagement shortly.”
“Surely you can spare a few minutes. I would think it highly unlikely that we would so fortuitously run into each other again.”
Perhaps a hot cup of tea would strengthen Violet’s innards for what lay ahead. Besides, Sam had not yet arrived in response to her note, and it was best to have him here for the confrontation to follow.
“A few minutes, then.”
They walked back to the refreshment stand. Violet selected a table while Mrs. Barrett ordered steaming cups of tea and brought them back on a tray with sugar cubes, cream, and a couple of pastries.
“I thought you might like something besides your tea,” Mrs. Barrett said.
“How very kind of you. Tell me, how are you getting on in your position as—a housekeeper, I believe it was?”
“I’m afraid that particular employment terminated rather early.”
Violet selected two sugar cubes with a pair of tongs and dropped them into her tea. The cubes were large and plopped noisily into the cup, splashing some of her tea over the side of the cup and saucer to leave a dark stain on the white tablecloth.
Except it wasn’t a dark stain on the white tablecloth. It was the brown wood of the table appearing from beneath the tablecloth as the fabric was unbelievably eaten away before Violet’s eyes.
25
Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is thy sting?
O grave, where is thy victory?
—1 Corinthians 15:54–55
“Good Lord in heaven,” Violet said, looking up at Mrs. Barrett.
A triumphant smile played upon the woman’s lips. “Drink up, dear, this tonic is good for you. It’s what I give all of my sick patients.”
Violet emptied the cup onto the ground and listened to it hiss in protest as it soaked into the gravel.
“Hmm, how very ungrateful you are of my hospitality, Mrs. Morgan.”
“I suspect there have been many ungrateful victims of your particular style of hospitality, Mrs. Barrett. At least now I understand how they ended up with holes in their skin and bedclothes. What, pray tell, do you use?”
“It depends. If they are in season, I pulverize the seeds of the colchicum flower. Otherwise, I go to the chemist for some sulfuric acid. Just a bit of either in tea or tonic works nearly instantly.”
“But . . . why?”
“Oh, a variety of reasons. For example, let’s take you. You’ve been my greatest find to date because you are the first living being to even catch a whiff of what I was doing. I was almost relieved, I must say, to discover someone with nearly as much wit and daring as my own.”
“Where is Susanna?” Violet asked through clenched teeth.
“Yet I’ve been growing steadily dissatisfied with your performance, little undertaker, and the girl is giving me constant pain—like a dull hypodermic syringe that never pierces the skin. She either stares at me sullenly as though she knows all about me, or else it’s endless complaining and carping about what’s to happen to me when her mother finds me. So now her mother has uncovered me.” Mrs. Barrett leaned forward. “What do you plan to do?”
Violet’s mind was whirling. Susanna’s kidnapper—and the murderess of at least two people in London—was an innocuous woman with whom she shared a train ride? Inconceivable.
Violet looked around at the other patrons seated near them. Where was Sam?
“If you’re considering some silly cry for help, I’m afraid I must advise against it. Your little Susanna is safely tucked away for the moment, but if you do something foolish, you can be sure that her situation will become more perilous. Lions are unpredictable, you know.”
Keep calm, Violet. Talk to the woman, see if you can get her to admit where she’s keeping Susanna. Sam, where are you?
“I understand,” Violet said, casting her eyes down, hoping she looked contrite. “You must understand that I am quite shocked to find that the one I’ve been seeking, who had the nerve to poison at least two people and then turn around and spirit my daughter away from under my nose, is a woman. A woman I hardly know.”
Violet picked up her bag from the ground. How easily could she slip her hand inside and grab her knife?
“I knew it would shock you. But from the day of our train ride together, I knew something had to be done.”
“Don’t you mean from the time I witnessed the horrific crime you committed against Mrs. Atkinson?”
