Page 32 of A Case of Possession
“God’s sake, Stephen. They’re your best friends. This is yourlife.”
“It’s my life, and my decision,” Stephen said sharply. “And until I have a damned good reason to make that decision—”
Being forced apart? Isn’t that a good reason?Crane pressed his lips together. Clearly, it wasn’t. Stephen wasn’t going to gamble with his closest friendships for the sake of a lover he didn’t believe would stay around. It made sense.
Stephen’s shoulders dropped slightly and he sighed. “It must be nice to be able to talk to your friends.”
Crane accepted the change of tone. “Mmm. Leo Hart guessed about you.”
“She’s never met me!”
“Not you personally. That you exist. That there is someone, for me.”Is? Was?He didn’t want to think about that. “She wants to meet you.”
“Um—”
“I said no, don’t worry.” Crane rolled his shoulders, aching from the stooping position that brought his mouth close to Stephen’s ear. “She’s the other victim.”
“The other… Rackham? He was blackmailing Mrs. Hart?”
“He was, the little turd. That was why I went round to have it out with violence.”
“I have to ask…” Stephen said.
“I have no reason to believe she knows anything about any of this. I’m quite sure she doesn’t. And if she wanted Rackham dead…”
“Yes?”
“Oh, if she wanted him dead, she’d have asked me to kill him,” Crane said lightly, recalling that she had done precisely that. “I’ll go and tell her the news now. Did you need anything from me regarding the Traders?”
“Not really.” Stephen straightened up, indicating that they should walk again. “Dr. Almont is very dull, isn’t he? He was so happy to have an audience for his theory on the Javaneseanitu, or migratory possessive spirit.” He mimicked Almont’s precise tones. “But he had nothing at all to say on rat cults so I’ll spare myself a further lecture.”
“Wise,” said Crane, as they headed westward, towards town. “What did Peyton say to you?”
“Peyton. Medium height, fifties?”
Crane would have described Peyton as a runt, but since the man stood a good five inches taller than Stephen, he refrained. “And a face like a weasel eating unripe gooseberries.”
“Him,” said Stephen reflectively. “Yes. He followed me down to the conveniences and told me some rather bad things about you.”
“Did he. What sort of things?”
“Apparently, you like to bed men. I was shocked by that, I can tell you.”
Crane grinned. “My secret is out. What else?”
Stephen flicked a glance up at him. “He was rather uncomplimentary about Mr. Hart. He had some strong words about Mr. Hart’s business dealings, and you for supporting him in them.”
“Tom was a thoroughgoing rascal, no denying it. I smuggled for him, and on my own account. I told you that.”
“Mmm.” Stephen paced on. “He called him a murderer.”
“Did he.”
“That’s not news to you,” Stephen observed.
“Tom had men killed,” Crane said. “Whether you’d saymurder—well, we differ on that.”
“We do. For example, in my view, if you kill someone for reasons other than self-defence or preventing acts of evil…”
