Page 65 of A Treacherous Trade
“Why do you think I’d take a job like this one?” Indira gestured back toward the alley from which they’d come. “It’s not that I’m not grateful to Bea for giving us a good place like The Orchard to work. But this isn’t what I wanted.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“My sister and I are saving to buy a spice shop. We almost have enough.”
“That is a lovely idea,” Izzy said wistfully, burrowing deeper into her coat. “I hope you get that shop someday, Indira.”
“What about you, Izzy?” I asked. “What would you do?”
She giggled, but it was a hollow sound with no mirth. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll age out of the life, just have to charge less, I suppose.”
“You mean you’ll do this forever? Do you want to run your own house someday?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think about the future much. Sometimes I feel like my grave is already dug. I’m just waiting to fall into it.”
Suddenly I wanted to embrace her. To save her. To save every woman whohadto make a living on her back or on her knees and give them a warm place protected from the men who would have them. Who would hurt them. Who would paint the matching haunted looks etching bleak shadows on both their faces.
“Postmortem sanitation specialist,” Indira said, testing my title. “You clean up after the dead.”
“I do. I’m not accustomed to investigations, all told. I don’t even know why I thought I could fool anyone. I just… the thought of what happened to Alys and Jane—I couldn’t let it be. I hope you’re not too cross.”
Indira dropped her cigarette on the ground and put it out with the heel of her boot. “You should stop looking for Alys and Jane’s killer,” she said gravely.
“I thought Alys drowned,” Izzy said, apropos of nothing.
Indira ignored her again, stepping to me and checking the wound on my lip. “The wrong person is likely to find out you’re investigating,” she warned me. “You could be next.”
At the serious, sinister look in her eye, the bottom dropped out of my stomach, and I had to force myself not to retreat from her.
“We would never want anything to happen to you,” Izzy agreed, wrapping her arms around herself and giving an exaggerated shiver. “It’s too cold to stand out here. We’ll see if we can’t find some proper salve for your lip at The Orchard, and you can have a chat with Bea.”
“I’m supposed to meet Amelia there anyhow,” I said, fighting a yawn to avoid stretching the cut in my lip.
“Let us be off, then.” Izzy hooked her arm through mine.
“Amelia has already been and gone,” Indira said. “Before we left.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Izzy said. “Bea will still want to look after you, though. And it’ll get you out of this horrendous cold.”
“Actually…” I gently extracted myself from her grip. “… I think I want to go home. I have people there who will tend to me.”
Indira nodded and raised her hand to hail one of the few hackney cabs still loitering in the main thoroughfare.
Izzy wrapped her arms around me, clutching me tight. I held her, too, this woman who was still a girl in so many ways, who seemed so lost and young.
Was I ever like this?
“I can’t stop thinking about Night Horse,” she said against my ear. “I would have fought Morag harder had I known…”
“Don’t worry about it.” I pulled back and attempted a strange, painful half-smile. “He and I are acquainted. Nothing happened.”
“You certainly keep dangerous company,” she added.
She had no idea.
“Perhaps you can convince them to be kinder to the next woman?” I suggested.
“Perhaps,” she said, looking unconvinced.
