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Chapter Six

  We didn’t visit the big rocks, instead hiring a carriage to ride around town the next couple of hours. We ended up in what Ezra called “The Row”, where we came across a slew of bookstalls. Though not something I normally gravitated to on vacation, I had a little more incentive to browse the stacks now. Ezra was apparently in his own personal heaven. I had to pull his nose out of more than one book to keep him focused on what we were searching for. Some of the books were damned old, even for 1888, and I started out optimistic; but there were so many books so haphazardly sorted, it would take weeks to locate one particular book in all the mess.

  The shops closed one by one and, dusty and tired, we headed back to the house. Late for supper, we were ushered into the dining room to a table draped with crisp linen and sparkling with silver. Kathleen introduced Mr. Cotton and Mr. Tenpenny to me in such a way that I was not sure which was which. They were both rather nondescript middle-aged men in dark suits with a demeanor that reminded me of the more humorless higher-ups at the Bureau.

  If anyone was put out at our tardiness, any sign of it was buried by the curiosity in the glances that came our way. Derry was the one who finally asked and since I knew the question was for Ezra, I left it to him and progressed through a plateful of fried potatoes and strips of beef smothered in gravy. Kathleen was going to put these fellows in an early grave, but at least they’d die full and happy.

  “Yes, indeed, we went to Newgate. Some bread, Mr. Nash?” He offered me a covered basket and I plucked out a warm slice. “We worked up something of an appetite in the process.”

  I knew that was directed at me. Mouth full, I just threw him a look and kept eating. He tried to suppress a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “We searched a few book stalls afterward—“

  “Hold a moment,” Derry said in exasperation. “Newgate?"

  “I got through without any difficulty. No need to worry.” Ezra shot me an impish glance. “Mr. Nash assisted.”

  I would’ve hurtled a slice of potato at him by way of my fork if Kathleen had not been presiding over the table with such a stern air. She evidently had a sixth sense herself because she looked at me suspiciously before she asked how many more nights I thought I might be staying. Ezra answered for me. “He should be leaving tomorrow, with any luck.”

  Dr. Gilbride, who’d been nodding off over his meal, looked at me. “Outstay your welcome, Mr. Nash?” It was a joking tone and I managed to smile.

  “Usually within the first five minutes.” I put down my fork. “If I haven’t mentioned it, I’m grateful to you all for the room and board. I’d pay you back if I could.”

  My little speech won a faint smile from Kathleen. “No need, Mr. Nash. This is a Christian home. I will not turn away those who come to me for help.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I wondered if she would have felt the same if she knew more about me. I looked around the table. “So, who’s stuck with me tonight?”

  "You'll stay with me, I hope," Derry said and I got the impression the matter was already settled.

  Well, I was popular enough to get one offer. “Thanks, Derry.”

  Henry, who'd been blessedly quiet until now, suggested it was time to prepare the parlor. Curious, I looked around to gauge everyone’s reactions to the little game the resident conmen—or conman, at least—intended to play tonight. Dr. Gilbride seemed entirely disinterested or maybe just too damned tired to care. Mr. Cotton and Mr. Tenpenny had excused themselves from the table without a backward glance. Kathleen, however, looked uncomfortable. But she made no objection as Ezra and Henry vanished into the other room.

  I had my plate and silverware in my hand and was heading for the kitchen when Kathleen diverted her concern to me. “Did you want something more, Mr. Nash? I can prepare you another plate.”

  “No, ma’am. I was just taking my dishes in. Force of habit.” Not quite sure why I was embarrassed, I let her have the plate and silver. “It was just something that was expected of us in my family.”

  “Was it, now.” Her face softened. “Well, then, you may take them in. But leave the washing to us. By the by, we've laundered the clothes you arrived in. Hannah will bring them up to you.”

  The woman was more efficient than my mom. And that was pretty damned efficient. “You didn’t have to do that. But thanks.”

  She let me walk ahead into the kitchen. Hannah, in a grubby, damp apron, was already at the sink. I added my dishes to the pile of pots and pans she was working on, which made me feel distinctly like a louse. “Hi ya, Hannah. How’re you doing?”

  She looked anxiously around to make sure Kathleen had left before turning a stricken face to me. “I didn’t pinch them, sir. I'll take an oath on the Bible I didn't. I thought she might see and you’d be right out with no place to sleep. That’s all, I swear it.”

  Startled by the frightened confession, I put a calming hand on her shoulder. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect and she jerked back with a little gasp. “Hannah, just calm down, honey. I’m not going to get you into any kind of trouble, I promise. What’d you take?” It couldn’t have been anything of value, whatever she had. My gun was on me, as was my wallet. The cell phone was broken and everything else was pocket litter.

  Hannah slid a hand into her apron pocket and retrieved my set of handcuffs. I choked back a laugh. I’d forgotten I’d stuck them into the inside pocket of my jacket. She handed them back after another wary glance toward the kitchen door. “Shiniest pair of ruffles I seen,” she whispered earnestly. “How’d you get away?”

  “Away from what?”

  “Ain’t no call to worry,” she assured me, though she was the one who looked worried. “Whatever you done, I won’t tell her, but--there’s rozzers up and down Bloomsbr'y all the time. If you’re going back to America, you best go quick.”

  I finally caught on to what she was talking about. “Hannah, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not a criminal. I’m--well, I’m something like a policeman. A rozzer.”

  She had Kathleen’s suspicious look down pat. “You ain’t. Truly?”

  “Cross my heart.” I stuffed the cuffs into my pocket and checked to make sure the key was still safe in my wallet. Hannah went back to her dishes, all the while casting a furtive, curious eye my way. I casually picked up a dishcloth and began drying the dishes she’d washed. “Don’t you have any gloves for that? You’re a little young for dishpan hands, kiddo.”

  Her eyes widened and then to my surprise, she giggled. “Washing dishes in me gloves,” she marveled, ducking her head to hide the amusement she couldn’t suppress.

  Deciding to forego an explanation on the wonders of latex, I gave her a grin, encouraging her not to hide hers. “Not a good idea, huh?”

  She swallowed back the laughter, her face going red. “I didn't mean—“

  “Hannah, it’s okay to say what you think around me. I’d like us to be friends.”

  “Friends?” The suspicion returned, edged with uneasiness.

  I checked a sigh. “Just friends, sweetheart. Where I come from, anyone can be friends. It doesn’t matter who they are or where they come from.”

  She looked impressed. “America.”

  “Well, yeah. More or less.”

  Kathleen pushed open the kitchen door, carrying the flowers that had been the table centerpiece. She set them near a window and looked around at us. “Hannah, please put on a clean apron so you may answer the door.”

  Hannah curtsied and took off, leaving me the lone recipient of Kathleen’s deadly gaze. “Hannah may be fifteen, Mr. Nash, but she is an impressionable young woman.”

  “I was only talking to her. Her virtue is safe around me, I promise you.”

  She looked at me as if she couldn’t make up her mind whether she was dealing with an angel or a devil. I’d be lucky to convince her I was somewhere in between. “Please also keep in mind that my brother may allow you to take advantage of his generous nature, but I will not. If you stay in London, you will have t
o find rooms somewhere else--unless Mr. Cotton does go to Paris, in which case, you may board here, provided you find employment and agree to maintain the propriety of a respectable house.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was about all I could think to say to that. She still thought I’d been hitting on Hannah and I knew it wouldn’t do any good to take offense at her attitude. Her mindset was worlds away from mine. And she didn’t know me, didn’t know that I wouldn’t, even if I had that kind of interest in the fairer sex. Of course if she had the chance to know me that well, she’d probably toss me out on my ear. I was sure she didn’t know about Ezra. I couldn’t imagine her tolerating that in her “respectable house”.

  Of more interest to me was what she would tolerate that I would never have. “Mind if I ask you something, Miss Neilan?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “This séance Ezra and Henry are holding. That’s not dancing with the devil, in your book?”

  That threw her for a loop. I had a feeling it might, despite the fact that she could hold her ground with a houseful of men. But I didn’t back down. She could dish it out. I wanted to see if she could take it.

  She pressed her hands against the smooth velvet of her corseted waist as if to steady herself. “The matter is more complicated than you know.”

  I couldn’t help a snort at that. “Most matters are. Isn’t there something in the Bible about this sort of thing being a wicked abomination?” I was an expert on abominations, being one myself.

  It took her a moment to answer. “I spoke with my mother, God rest her.” She crossed herself, then met my eyes, pain simmering far under the iron gray of hers. “There can be no trick in that, sir. There were things no man could know. Not Ezra, certainly. We’d hardly spoken beyond common courtesies.”

  “Maybe he found out things. Maybe he had help.”

  “No. Not these things. He could not find them out.” She was resolute and calm again. “Not even Derry knew…” She shook her head. “As long as Henry and Ezra continue to do their work in God’s name, they will have my blessing.”

  “They’re lawbreakers, Miss Neilan. They’re cheating innocent people out of hard-earned money by playing on their fragile emotional states.”

  “You are quick to judge them.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” I smiled ruefully. “See how easy it is.”

  The faintest pink touched her high cheekbones. “Please understand, it is my duty to protect the girl. Forgive me if I offended you.”

  Probably no one else in the house had ever tried to befriend Hannah before. I supposed it was just one of those things you didn’t do whilst maintaining propriety. God, I’d never last in this century. “Do me a favor, Miss Neilan. Keep this conversation in mind, if sometime in the future you have an opportunity to pass judgment on someone else.”

  “I believe you have someone particular in mind.” She didn’t ask whom, but with an acknowledging nod, invited me to join her in the parlor. As aware as I was of what I was walking into, I was hard pressed not to laugh at the sight that met my eyes. The round table in the center of the room had been draped with a fringed black velvet throw. The gas had been turned down to lend just the right spooky ambience, several candles in strategic places adding to the effect.

  The solemn group gathered around the table watched Henry’s every move as he settled into a high-backed chair and extended his hands, palms up, to the participants on either side of him. In a chair opposite, Ezra slumped in comfortable oblivion, at least until some sense alerted him of my arrival. He looked at me with a hint of his old wariness, probably waiting for me to denounce him in front of all his clients. Going for inscrutable, I found a seat in a corner where I could watch the con unfold.

  “Dear friends,” Henry intoned, “our home is yours for the evening. You and those you’ve come to communicate with are welcome. Since I believe most of us are familiar with the proceedings, I think we may begin. If that is all right with you, Ezra.”

  “Any time you like.” Ezra scrambled to sit up straight, like a daydreaming school kid called on by the teacher. He offered his hands to the guests on either side of him, both women, and they looked at him hesitantly. Henry cleared his throat.

  “If you will all join hands. And no gloves, please. It tends to hinder the energies.”

  I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. The women removed their gloves and timidly followed instructions, the men doing likewise. The elderly woman at Ezra’s right did not seem as bashful. She seized Ezra’s hand in a grip that made him wince. I know he heard me chuckle, but he ignored it and, clearing his throat, picked up where Henry’d left off.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to close your eyes and think about those loved ones you’ve come here tonight to talk to. Draw up memories, happy memories if you can.” He paused, then added gently, “If you need to break the circle to reach for handkerchiefs, it will be quite all right.”

  I had to give it to him; he was believably sympathetic. Already I could hear a few sniffles around the table, even from the men, in the relative safety of dim lighting. There was a long stretch of quiet, until Henry broke it.

  “Spirits, come forth and make your presence known.”

  I sincerely hoped I was not going to have to resort to pressing my face into a pillow. They were all quiet again and even the softest snicker would have been loud in the room. I could see Derry in his favorite spot, observing it all with fervent interest. Kathleen had taken a chair near the door and was knitting at a furious pace by the slim crack of light coming from the hall. Dr. Gilbride sat in a chair by the dark hearth, newspaper over a knee, eyes closed, and I would have bet my last dime he wasn’t deep in summoning deceased relatives. The other tenants were nowhere to be seen and I suspected they’d had enough of this particular show.

  Ezra appeared to be lost in thought. Or maybe he was chatting with ghosts in his head. Who knew. I kept an eye on him, expecting a show since he was designated the great communicator of this two man con.

  Henry, however, was the one consistently taking the lead. “Mrs. Eliza Barrington is here tonight seeking communion with her beloved Arthur.” He coughed softly and I sat up, alerted to the probable signal he was passing to Ezra. Whatever it meant, Ezra’s only response was a faint, exasperated sigh. I stole a glance at Henry, to see him frown. He continued, a note of urgency in his voice, “Miss Dorothia Firth has come for a word from her eldest, Edward. And Mr. Simon Dealy and his daughter hope for a few moments with Mrs. Dealy, if they may.”

  Though Henry seemed to be addressing the room in general or maybe the spirits in particular, I knew he was talking directly to Ezra. And it was clear from what I could see of his expression in the flickering light that he was not getting the response he expected.

  And maybe neither was Ezra. He shifted restlessly in his seat, then with an irritated snort, pulled his hands free and swung a sharp gaze on me. “Your friend Mr. Sullivan is a very persistent chap.”

  What the hell? I shook my head to warn him not to start that shit with me; but he kept going with no less exasperation. “We shall have to let him say his piece before we can move on.” Ezra pushed his chair back from the table, turning it to face me. “This Nosik. Someone you know?”

  I immediately thought back to my arrival here and tried to remember how much information I’d given away to this nut. I must have mentioned Nosik at least in passing or Ezra wouldn’t know the name. I didn’t go for that mind-reading crap any more than ghosts, so there had to be another explanation.

  Until I thought of one, a nicely noncommittal shrug would do.

  Ezra sighed and closed his eyes, head bent as if listening to something beyond the curious murmurs around the table. I wondered why he’d picked me for this. It would be a whole lot easier to pull one over on his grieving guests. After a long minute, he looked at me again, frankly puzzled. “I'm afraid I don't understand. He’s a--double?”

  How much had I blabbed to these people? Ezra was starting to sound like a fuc
king Fed. “Nosik's a double, huh? Well, that's not really something I can confirm or deny, Ez, old pal. What else ya got?”

  Clearly uncomfortable with whatever instruction he was getting from the beyond, he sputtered an answer to my question. “A size eleven shoe that’s going to put a heavy duty dent in your ass if you don't listen--" He broke off, red in the face, and whispered, "Could we not take this to another room, please?"

  The not so delicate language caused more than a few dismayed gasps. Henry was starting to look indignant. Me, I was a little annoyed, myself. Yeah, maybe that sounded like Sully in all his gruff, sarcastic glory, but as far as I was concerned, it was just another good guess. “You know, it takes a heartless son of a bitch to pull this kind of crap on people. You do realize that, don’t you?” I sat back in the chair, pushing the lid down hard on the near-buried feelings Ezra’s little theatrics were churning up. After six months of missing the hell out of Sully, I wasn't going to start fresh with that pain again.