Page 68 of A Treacherous Trade
I’d become leery of such things lately… because I’d seen the blood leaking from Jane’s every orifice.
But this was Amelia Croft. A friend. I’d nothing to fear from her. I was merely overtired and being ridiculous in my hesitancy.
Lifting my chin, I allowed her to dab just a touch of the strong-smelling stuff on my lip.
That finished, she began to scoop the rest of the paste into a familiar-looking vial. “I’m sorry whatever information you learned tonight came at such a cost. Are you truly all right?”
I checked for the truth, and found that I was.
Shaken, of course, but also glad. Not glad to have been attacked, but to have learned that I’d ruffled guilty feathers. “I’m better than expected under the circumstances. What’s bothering me the most is that there are too many suspects. We’ll have to narrow them down, and I’ve no idea where to start.”
“Let’s start with a detective.” Amelia gestured back toward the table, and I stood, allowing Croft to move the chair so that we all sat around it.
“Let’s hear it,” he said—rather evenly, considering what his face had been doing this entire time.
“I talked to the girls at The Orchard, and they had more than a few things to say,” I began.
I was careful not to disturb the poultice on my lip as I told them about Morag’s jealousy of Jane and Alys, and her tendency to bully the other girls. I moved on to Indira’s possible play for the premier spot at The Orchard now that her rivals were dead, despite her dream of a spice shop. I spoke of the Vicar Jewett, who’d spouted threats in the open with many witnesses. Of Charles Hartigan and his confrontation with Alys on the street and Inspector Davies’s dangerous obsession with the same woman. I even mentioned that Night Horse had had… relations with them both, though I left outourspecific interlude.
I didn’t miss the tightening of Croft’s jaw at the mention of The Velvet Glove, the Hammer, or the Blade.
What Croft didn’t know… well, it was better for the both of us.
“Everywhere I turn, I find motive for Alys’s death, but the only time I heard a word against Jane was when Izzy told me she and Sophia were enemies,” I finished, motioning to Croft. “That is why I went to The Velvet Glove. Bea and I agreed that speaking to Sophia was important. And Sophia pointed a very strong finger at both Inspector Davies and this Charles Hartigan.”
Gingerly, I touched the poultice on my lip, astonished to find that it was already drying.
“I just wish I knew who he was,” I murmured idly. “Or, rather,whathe was and where to find him.”
Amelia held up a finger. “You never spoke of this Charles Hartigan to Beatrice, did you?”
I shook my head. “I hadn’t the chance yet, what with…” I gestured in the general direction of my face.
I thought I might have heard a growl coming from Croft’s direction, but I didn’t look.
Amelia continued, “I remember Bea saying some time ago that she was having problems with a businessman in her area—a photographer, no less. She had to ban him from The Orchard because he would pay the girls to take explicit pictures and then sell them to line his own pockets. She was furious, not only because he spooked the girls and accosted them in the streets, but he was also making profits off her employees with another illegal business.”
“She was angry not to get a cut?” Croft guessed.
“More than that.” Amelia chewed her own lip. “She was worried that photographic evidence of indecency would bring the police to her door for her or the girls. Especially when she was beginning to cultivate a good relationship with the local detective through Alys.” She turned to Croft. “This was when Alys and Inspector Davies were still banging the bed knobs. Before their relationship went sour and he turned against them all.”
Croft’s lids narrowed in miniscule increments. I could hear his brain churning, whirring like the cogs and wheels of Big Ben with a narrative that was beginning to feel just as complicated.
“Who do you think did this, Fiona?” Amelia asked me. “If you had to listen to nothing but your intuition?”
I thought about it, rubbing at my throbbing temples. “I think I agree with Sophia. I’m starting to suspect Inspector Davies, and I really think this Charles Hartigan is worth looking into. But what I can’t figure is why they would kill Jane when, as far as I know, they only had motive against Alys. That’s the missing piece here, I think. What does Jane have to do with all or any of this?”
“And who sent this man to… to what? To kill you, too?” Amelia shook her head. “I can’t bear the thought.”
I closed my eyes, letting out a breath. “You didn’t see this man. I’d say he’s bigger even than you, Croft. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead. He held me above the ground and nearly smothered me with his bare hands. He grabbed and groped at me, but didn’t actually hurt me until I stabbed him. And even then, he slapped me with the back of his hand, and I went reeling into a brick wall. I think an actual punch might have broken bones, all told.”
Croft slapped the table, causing both of us to jump. “I have had e-fucking-nough of this. Do you hear me?” He stood, marched toward the stove, and then paced back. “I’m going to find this photographer, Hartigan, and question him properly.” He cracked his fingers.
“I’ll go with you,” I offered. “Let’s do it tomorrow—er—today after we’ve slept.”
He jabbed a finger at me, his shoulders heaving against his jacket. “You are going nowhere except home. Not back to The Orchard, not to The VelvetbloodyGlove, and certainly not to see a man suspected of murdering two women.”
My mouth dropped open, and for a moment, it didn’t even hurt. I wasn’t certain if that was the poultice or my sheer exasperation at his overbearing audacity. “I will go where I like, Inspector Croft, and we both know a woman like me could get more information than a menacing detective.”
