Page 152 of Crocodile Tears

“My name is Josiah Raine,” he said, holding out his hand but not making any move to walk towards the sick man.

“Your face seems familiar… do I know you?”

Noah grabbed his walking stick and leaned heavily on it as he shuffled across the room to shake Josiah’s hand – Charles had been telling the truth about his lack of mobility.

“I’m a senior investigator with Inquisitus.”

Noah’s expression soured. “Does this have something to do with all the people outside? Charles won’t tell me what’s going on, but I’ve been through this before, more than once. Bloody media parasites! What do they want this time? Haven’t we given them enough entertainment over the years?”

“It’s about your son – Alexander.”

Noah’s face froze in shock, then darkened. “I don’t have a son by that name,” he said stiffly. “I only have one son, and he’s over there.”

“Please, Dad, let’s not start this up again,” Charles beseeched.

“So, you haven’t been in communication with Alexander recently?”

“No, I bloody well haven’t. I told the court years ago that I’d disowned him – he’s dead to me. I haven’t seen him since and good riddance.”

He was breathing heavily and suddenly lurched as one of his legs gave way. Josiah grabbed him under one arm to stop him falling.

Noah Lytton was thin and frail, and it was easy for him to take the old man’s weight and guide him onto a nearby chair. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, then, sir.”

“If Alex is involved, that explains why the press are outside,” Noah said angrily. “They can’t keep away from that boy. What’s he done this time, hmm? Stolen his houder’s money? Escaped abroad? Murdered someone?”

Josiah was silent.

Noah glanced up at him – despite his physical frailty, Josiah could tell that he was still mentally sharp.

“Murdered someone?” Noah repeated, looking genuinely shocked. “Really? That’s why you’re here, Mr whatever-your-name-is?”

“Investigator Raine.”

“Oh, I know you now – I’ve read about you – you’re that indiehunter fellow.” Noah gave him a disapproving glare. “Never did like the look of you, or that name you earned for yourself. Did you give any of those poor bastards you caught a decent chance, hmm? Prejudiced – that’s what you are.”

“I’m just doing my job, sir.”

“‘Just doing my job’ – the age-old excuse of oppressors everywhere.” Noah scowled. “In my day, you didn’t hear of all these crimes being committed by indentured servants. We treated them well, because it was our duty. Now, suddenly, they’re being demonised in the press, called ‘serfs’, and people like you are making the public fear and hate them. Indiehunter.” He snarled the epithet.

Josiah smiled. “You know, under different circumstances I mightactually like you, sir. However, right now I have a murder to solve, and you seemed shocked when I suggested Alexander might be responsible. Do you think he’s capable of murder?”

Noah hunched his shoulders and looked away.

“Sir?” Josiah pressed.

“Oh, who knows what that boy is capable of. I’m only his father – what would I know?” He caught himself and jerked his head irritably. “Was his father, once… not anymore. I don’t know. I just don’t know.” He shook his head repeatedly, muttering under his breath.

“Very well, sir. I’m sorry, once again, for disturbing you.” Josiah turned to follow Charles out of the room.

“I remember a little boy who could paint like an angel,” Noah said softly, behind him.

Josiah turned back to see a faraway look in Noah’s eyes.

“Just a few, fine strokes of his brush on the paper – so deft, such lightness of touch.” Noah held one shaking hand in the air as if visualising it in his mind’s eye.

“He could see things I never saw. I’d look at a table, or a duck, and see a lump of wood or metal, but he could see their beauty and convey it perfectly in his art. It was a gift, such a gift, but it all went to waste. Murder?” The older man looked sadly at Josiah. “Maybe if he wasn’t able to see that beauty anymore, if all he saw was ugliness instead, well, maybethenhe could murder someone, but I hate to think what he’s become if that’s the case, Mr Raine.”

“Thank you, sir,” Josiah said softly.

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