City of Light (City of Mystery) (17 page)

Trevor, whose rather
spotty rural education hadn’t included much in the way of art appreciation,
felt as he often did in these conversations with Tom.  Outmatched and vaguely
uneasy. “I wouldn’t know,” he said stiffly.  

“Well, that fine
lady is in Paris,” Tom said lightly, as if he were suddenly aware he might have
pushed Trevor too far.  “And the fine lady before us will shortly be joining
her there as well.  Even taking into account that it isn’t what you’d expected,
does seeing the portrait answer any of your questions?”

Before Trevor could
answer, the door from the shop swung open and, to Trevor’s surprise, it was not
the clerk who dashed through it but rather Davy.  The boy looked flushed and
disheveled, as if he had run from the Yard to Windsor Square, and when his eyes
fell on Trevor he tried to speak.  But his voice came out broken and ragged.

“Knew I’d find you
here, Sir.  A telegram –“

“Here boy, take a
breath.  There’s no news that can’t wait.  What sort of telegram?”

“From France, Sir,
came to you from the chief of the Paris police.” Davy struggled to control his
breathing, staring up into the suggestive, languid smile of Isabel Blout.

“It’s Detective
Abrams, Sir,” he finally managed to get out.  “They say he’s gone missing.”

3:40 PM

“It’s quite out of
the question, Detective.”

“Your Majesty, if I
might –“

The Queen held up a
plump hand and Trevor fell silent in an instant.

“We can predict what
you are about to say.  That Detective Abrams was a member of our own Scotland
Yard, and that the only reason he was even in that dissolute city was because
he was following our own direct order.  Both statements are correct, but the
fact remains that we cannot spare you at present.”

Trevor could not
help but note her use of the past tense in her evaluation of Rayley’s status.  Evidently
Victoria, long accustomed to trouble, had already assumed the worse.

“If Your Majesty is
speaking about the business in Cleveland-“

Again the raised
hand.  Again Trevor’s silence.

“This is not our
concern. A city the size of London will always have its share of distasteful
matters. But do we know for certain that the Ripper has truly desisted?”

“It’s been five
months since an incident, Your Majesty.”

“And you are
convinced this is enough time to close the case?”

Trevor tried not to
audibly sigh.  He had gradually begun to come to peace with the idea that Jack
the Ripper would never be caught and thus that the case would never be
definitely closed.  If Victoria intended to use the possibility of the
resurgence of the Ripper as an excuse to keep Trevor and his forensics team tied
to her throne, he would never leave London again. 

“I do not think the
citizens of London are in any such present danger, Ma’am,” he said.  “And meanwhile
the present danger to Detective Abrams is undeniable.”

“Is it?  According
to your telegram, he has been missing for no more than twelve hours and there
are any number of innocent explanations for why a man might take a day from his
professional duties to attend to private business.   Do we know for certain he
has fallen victim to a crime?”

“Rayley’s not the
sort of man to simply disappear, Your Majesty, and yet his housekeeper reports
he was not in his room when she knocked for breakfast.  Then he fails to report
to work with no explanation for his absence, although we are speaking of a man
who is most regular in his habits, ma’am, most responsible in his duties.   And
furthermore, Your Majesty, he had written me that he was working on a case that
was proving –“

The Queen looked at
him in surprise. “Working on a case?  Our impression was that we had sent Detective
Abrams to Paris to study forensics, not to assist the French in their own daily
duties.”

“That’s true, Ma’am,
but the victim of this particular crime was English.  Someone Rayley had met
socially, that he felt he knew. When the fellow turned up dead, he naturally
took a personal interest. I can’t help but believe Rayley’s disappearance is
connected to the murder of a newspaper man named Patrick Graham.”

“And you also believe
that, based on a few facts gleaned from his letters, you can arrive in Paris and
swiftly solve a crime that the French police cannot.”

He dropped his gaze
to the floor and Victoria smiled.  She sought a high level of self-assurance in
all her advisors and had always rather enjoyed Trevor’s confidence.  His
certainty in his own skills, as well as in the newborn science of forensics,
was one of the reasons she had such faith in him.  When she spoke again, her
voice was softer. “I take it Rayley Abrams is a friend?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.
A friend to me personally and a most loyal servant to the throne.”

“Which is precisely
why we suspect he would understand our reasoning, even if you do not.  How do
you imagine Detective Abrams might advise you if he were standing here?”

This time Trevor did
not even try to mask his sigh.  “He would tell me to stand firm on Your Majesty’s
business and to leave French crimes to the French police.”

Victoria nodded. 
“And he would be correct.”

4:50 PM

Stone silent with
disappointment, Trevor and Davy sat nursing their pints at the Tinwhistle Pub. 
There was little point in conversation.  They both knew that the future of the
forensics unit was utterly dependent upon the continuing good will of the Queen.
 Besides, Victoria’s last words still rang in Trevor’s ears, for he knew they
were accurate.  If Abrams were here at the bar and heard of Trevor’s plans to
rush to Paris and take up inquiries in the Graham case, he would tell him not
to be such a damned fool. 

“We don’t even
understand French,” Trevor said.

He did not realize
he’d spoken aloud until Davy sat down his mug and shifted in his seat. “Miss
Emma does,” he said.

“Speaking of which,
I suppose we should still begin making our way to Geraldine’s.  My heart’s
hardly in it, but if she was kind enough to ask us for dinner on such short
notice...”  Trevor glanced around the half-filled pub.  “I’m surprised Tom
didn’t meet us here.  He rarely passes up the chance for a pint.”

Davy nodded, but for
once he did not protest when Trevor dug out a handful of coins to pay for both
their drinks.  Trevor noted the difference, but wasn’t sure what, if anything,
to make of it.  They pulled on their coats and made their silent way through
the wet streets to Geraldine’s house.  Up the familiar stone steps, to ring the
familiar doorbell. 

After a minute or
so, Trevor rang again.  

“Not like them to
forget, Sir,” Davy ventured.

“No, it isn’t,”
Trevor said reluctantly.  “Perhaps we should go ‘round and knock up the
kitchen.  If Gage is preparing –“

Just then the door
was opened by Emma, who shot them a quick and somewhat automatic smile before
turning back toward the broad staircase.  “Careful,” she called up to Tom, who
was partnering with Gage to maneuver down a spectacularly large traveling
case. 

“Hard to be careful
when I can’t see my feet,” Tom called back irritably, and then he added. “Come
in, Trevor, Davy.   As you can see, we’re in the throes of a project, but Gage
did pause to make a pot of his famous Yorkshire stew.”

“What’s this about?”
Trevor said, stepping into the foyer.  “I take it someone is going on a trip?”

“You truly are a great
detective,” Emma said drily, closing the door behind them.

“Thank you, Gage,”
Tom said, as they lowered the case to the floor of the foyer.  “If you need to
get back to the kitchen, I believe I can manage the others on my own.  Or
perhaps Davy can lend me a hand.”

“Others?” said
Trevor. “Who the deuce is traveling, and where?”

“A sudden impulse,
darling,” Geraldine called down.  She had appeared on the landing in time to
hear Trevor’s last question and her arms were full as well, with a stack of hat
boxes which threatened to topple down the steps at any moment. “An overpowering
urge has come upon me to visit Paris, and I’ve asked Emma and Tom to accompany
me.”

“And the reason for
this trip?” Trevor asked warily, as Emma bounded up the steps to take the
hatboxes from Geraldine. 

“Perhaps you’ve
heard, but there’s some sort of marvelous world exhibition in the plans,”
Geraldine said, with that brand of overly-innocent sarcasm that was hers
alone. 

“And perhaps you’ve
heard,” Emma muttered from behind the hatboxes, “that a colleague is in grave
danger.”

“Look here,” said
Trevor, “I’m sure when Tom came home with his news of the Queen’s decision you
were all distressed, as were Davy and I.  But we can’t disband the entire
forensics unit to sail across –“

“The entire
forensics unit?” Tom said.  “That’s you and Davy, is it not?  Rayley’s gone
missing and Emma and I are volunteers, which leaves, if my math serves me,
precisely two people in the employ of the crown.”

“She all but forbad
–“

“Now, dear,” Gerry
said, giving Trevor’s cheek a pat with her somewhat dusty hand.  “I am of
course devoted to the Queen, as are we all.  That goes without saying.  But not
even Victoria can prevent a group of private citizens from taking a pleasure trip
to Paris.”

“True enough, but something
tells me you don’t intend this as a pleasure trip.”

“Don’t be cross,”
Geraldine said, still utterly unperturbed by his scowl.   “Shall we move into
the parlor to discuss the particulars?” 

“Come with us,
Trevor,” Emma said quietly, reaching forward to grab his wrist as the rest of
the group obediently shuffled toward the parlor door. “We need you.”

Trevor leaned down
to her face, his voice as low as her own. “I suppose it was inevitable, but
living with the Bainbridges has finally driven you mad.  Rayley said that the
French police barely deigned to work with him.  Do you really think they’re
prepared to collaborate with, as Geraldine so aptly puts it, ‘a group of
private citizens’?  The forensics unit-“

“Was created to
handle the most heinous of crimes,” Tom broke in.   He, Davy, and Geraldine
were still clustered at the parlor door, openly eavesdropping. “And yet all
they’ve given us this month is Cleveland Street.  How can you even imply that
case is on an equal par with Rayley’s disappearance?”

“But if we all –“

“I’ll stay, Sir,”
Davy said.  “No one pays any real attention to what we’re doing down in the
dungeon, you’ve said as much yourself.  As long as a report comes out every
week or so, the supervisors upstairs may not realize I’m the only one in the
laboratory.”

“You’d give up the
chance to see Paris, Davy?” Geraldine asked gently.  “Have you ever been out of
London?”

Davy nodded. “My
grandpap took me to Brighton once, Ma’am, on a fishing holiday.  By the end of
the first day, that little boat had cured any desire I’d ever have to cross the
channel.  Besides, if someone is to remain behind, I’m the sensible choice.”

“You are indeed, my
friend,” Tom said, clasping his shoulder. “No matter what the question, ‘Davy
Mabrey’ is the only sensible answer.  So what say you, Trevor?  If Davy is
prepared to single-handedly wrangle the criminal element of London, can you
manage to put your archaic scruples aside long enough to accompany the rest of us
to Paris?”

Trevor was still
shaking his head. “If I were to disobey the Queen –“

“You’re not
disobeying the Queen,” Emma said.  “You’re going on holiday.  Really, Trevor. 
How long has it been since you’ve taken even a day of leisure?”

Trevor looked from
one face to another, knowing he was defeated.   “Eleven years.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The English Channel

April 25

10:50 AM

The human populace
was divided into two groups, Trevor mused:  those who were energized by travel
and those who were depleted by it.  Geraldine and Tom evidently fell into the
first category, he and Emma into the latter.  All four of them were miserably
crammed into a small private berth that Geraldine had managed to secure at the
last minute, for heaven knows what sort of expense.  With the Exposition gearing
up, travel between London and Paris was at a peak and the small ship was packed
to the gills.  He supposed they were lucky not to find themselves on the hard
benches bolted to the drafty decks of steerage, but still, fitting four adults
into a berth clearly designed for two was a bit of a squash.

Tom and Geraldine
chatted happily about some far-flung relative and Emma seemed absorbed in a
French newspaper, although Trevor noticed she had not turned the page in some
time.  Now that he was sure his stomach was not going to betray him in the
voyage, he decided he may as well also look for some means of passing the time.