Page 53 of Grave Expectations
I threw three pebbles this time. All landed on the other side of the fence.
The constable drew his truncheon from its holster and unbolted the gate. Clinging to the edge of the roof by my fingers, I swung down and through the open door, landing softly in the empty corridor. After a quick glance back outside to confirm that the constable hadn't noticed, I slipped inside the dark room and closed the door. In the moment before it shut, the light from the corridor lamp revealed a room with mop, brooms and other cleaning equipment at one end and a large cabinet with numerous small drawers on the side.
I pressed my ear to the door and listened. Someone hummed quietly but I heard no voices. The back door closed and a bolt slid home. Footsteps passed by the storeroom door without stopping. I waited another moment and, when all remained quiet, I crept out to the corridor. The detective inspector's office was two doors down, visible from the front desk where the constable sat with his feet up, his back to me.
On tiptoes, I snuck into the unlocked windowless office and silently cursed the lack of light. I fumbled in the dark until I located the lamp on the desk and lit it. The gas hissed a little but not too loudly. I checked the stack of papers and found the Drinkwater case on top.
I flicked past the gruesome photographs and the information he'd gathered from witnesses. That wasn't what I needed. Near the back, I found the name and address of Mrs. Drinkwater's sister, but no other kin. If she wasn't there, I had no notion of where to find her. Lincoln would already know this information too and would be there ahead of me. Indeed, he should have returned to Lichfield hours ago.
I flipped the pages back in place, going slower to skim read them. A name caught my eye.
Joan Brumley.
From the look of things, this detective wasn't working on the Brumley case, but he or someone else had linked the two murders. The timing and method of death must have given them a clue. I made a mental note of Brumley's details, including that of her cousin, listed as the next of kin.
I continued to flip the pages back in place, only to pause again when I spotted another familiar name. Two.Oh my god.
Victor Frankenstein and Captain Jasper.
They were listed with two other men under the heading Known Associates. Beside their names were the letters 'DEC'. Deceased. The detective must have found correspondence between them. I couldn't believe I hadn't made the connection earlier. All three men were scientists involved in reanimation, of sorts. Frankenstein had wanted to bring dead bodies to life using my necromancy, Jasper had wanted to bring them to life using medicine, and Drinkwater wanted to make false limbs work.
Had they shared the results of their research with one another? Had Frankenstein and Jasper known Drinkwater was magical? Was Drinkwater's death in any way related to this connection? And Brumley's too?
My mind spun with so many questions. I needed to speak with Lincoln. And yet…he must have known. He would have snuck in here in much the same way I did, and searched through these same papers. If he knew…why hadn't he told me?
Footsteps approached along the corridor. I extinguished the lamp and ducked beneath the desk. I clasped the pendant around my neck. Its warmth reassured me.
The door opened and a rectangle of light beamed across the floor. Polished shoes approached, pausing only inches from where I hid. My heart hammered so hard I felt sure he must have heard it, even over his whistling. Papers rustled for what seemed like several minutes, but was more likely only seconds. Then finally, the shoes retreated and the constable shut the door. The room fell dark, but I didn't dare move.
I waited until I was sure he wouldn't return and emerged from my hiding spot. I tiptoed to the door, opened it and checked up and down the corridor before emerging fully. The bolt on the back door wasn't as quiet as I would have liked, but nobody came after me, so it must have been quiet enough. I closed the door, sprinted across the courtyard, out the back gate and down the lane.
I didn't stop running until I reached the corner where the numerous streetlamps provided comfort and a sense of protection. It was still early and, despite the cold, people were out and about, coming home from work or making evening calls. I found a cab and paid the driver to take me back to Lichfield.
The journey gave me time to think. I had so many questions, and I knew Lincoln might know the answers to some of them. I hoped he'd returned, because I wanted to confront him about keeping information from me. Then again, if he'd come home to find me not there…
I dismissed that possibility from my mind and considered everything I knew, which was very little. Mrs. Drinkwater might be able to tell me more about her husband's association with Jasper and Frankenstein, but finding her would likely prove difficult now. If she hadn't gone into hiding, Lincoln would have returned home hours ago. I didn't think I could succeed where he'd failed.
But I didn't need Mrs. Drinkwater's help. There were other ways to get information.
Lincoln wasn't home, to my immense relief. Not only that, but my ruse of retiring to my room due to a headache had worked, so the others were utterly surprised to see me stroll into the kitchen wearing boy's clothes. None more so than Doyle.
He dropped the eggs he'd been about to pass to Cook. They smashed all over the floor and splattered his gleaming black shoes. "Miss Holloway?" His scandalized tone matched the look on his face.
"That it is, Mr. Doyle," I said in my old slum accent. "Close yer gob, now. Don't want no one finking yer a fish."
"I…I…"
"Aye, I'm dressed like a boy." I removed my cap and bowed. "What's for dinner, Cook? I'm starving."
"Leftover beef." Cook shook his head and cleared his throat. When he finally got Doyle's attention, he nodded at the mess on the floor.
Doyle crouched to pick up the bits of shell, but continued to glance up at me as if he expected me to do a jig.
Seth and Gus stood by the door, blocking my exit, their arms crossed over their chests, matching scowls on their faces. "You're lucky Fitzroy's not here," Seth said.
"I know." I smiled but that didn't wipe off their scowls. "I was quite safe. I had my pet with me." I pulled the necklace out from beneath my shirt.
"That don't make it right," Gus said, lowering his arms. "You should tell someone when you go out."
