Hounds of Autumn (27 page)

Chapter 45

I
nspector Lockton leaned back against
the edge of Ambrose’s desk and Chloe sat in her husband’s chair, backed against the wall. Miss Haynes handed Chloe a cool rag, which she held to her split lip. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but there would be swelling and she was fairly sure a black eye was in her future. Her nose was bruised but unbroken, and had only bled a little.

“I’ll say one thing for Dora, the woman can hit,” Chloe mumbled through the rag.

“Three constables are escorting her to the station. She won’t be able to harm you or anyone else again. Now, I need you to tell me everything.” He had a notebook out, but no pencil. She doubted he would need one.

“Where do you want to start?” she asked.

“Why did Dora kill Camille Granger?”

“Blackmail. Camille was blackmailing her because Dora found herself with child thanks to Robert’s tutor, Mr. Graves. Then, after Dora rid herself of the pregnancy, Camille decided to blackmail her. Dora killed her to end it.”

“And how on earth did you learn this? What proof do you have?”

“During Camille’s funeral, I took the liberty of exploring Camille’s laboratory; looking for the hound’s schematics. I stumbled across a little box filled with money—hidden money that she was saving up to escape her husband. I wondered where it had come from. How had she collected so much money simply from selling a few items of jewelry?

“The hound is actually what provided the most important clue. It was hiding things in that little hole in the rocks near the bog. The hound seemed to like performing repetitive actions, and it copied its mistress. Camille would check the hiding place, where Dora would regularly leave money or various valuable items. So the hound did likewise, opening and closing the hole, leaving and removing coins and other detritus.”

“So Dora was leaving items in the hiding hole as a blackmail payoff to Camille.”

“Exactly. The hound was also trying to copy Camille’s actions when she worked to recharge its battery. The cadmium and nickel battery required regular infusions of an alkaline solution. Because Camille was saving up her money to escape, she found a way to make her own solution using fen water and ashes. One night, I saw the hound scoop up ashes in its mouth, which only made sense after I remembered my visit to Camille’s laboratory. I found a bottle of the fen water and ash solution in her laboratory and ph tested it. It had the same ph as potassium hydroxide which is used in the cadmium and nickel battery. She was making a homemade alkaline solution.”

“As fascinating as I am sure that is, I need to know about the blackmail and the murder.”

“Right, I’m getting there. Ambrose and I knew that the hound might be hiding, and we searched for it. A vital clue came when we saw the Hammond’s shed. The hound had come looking for machine cleaning solvent. That’s what led us to the mine, where they used the solvent to clean machinery. The solvent is also an alkaline, so Camille may have used it to try to make the solution for the battery.

“We found that the hound had another hiding place deep in the mine where it kept odds and ends in a crate. Included among the things it kept were data spools. See, when I took apart the hound earlier this evening, I discovered that it stored data on replaceable spools. Now, even an advanced mechanical like Giles only has a certain number of spools, and I would have to put them in and take them out. But Camille designed the hound so it could replace its own spools. The cloth cover on its abdomen had a simple bone button and the panel underneath had a simple hook closure. The hound could take its memory spools in and out itself. And it did.

“When I took it apart, I realized that the hound not only had a decision engine, but an extra processing engine connected to a series of wires from its head that seemed useless. It turns out that Camille gave it a way to generate a small amount of light, but more importantly, it had a camera. It was able to record images. That’s why I had to escape from the cell. I needed to get all the spools, from the mine and from inside the hound, and play them. Camille had a playback machine in her laboratory, but Mr. Granger had probably destroyed it. Ambrose had a similar one, so I brought the spools here.”

“We found the thing you built to keep the cell door from closing completely. Clever.”

“Thank you. Now, after witnessing its mistress’s murder, what did the hound do? It attacked a shop dummy dressed as a woman as well as a scarecrow wearing a skirt.”

“You think it was imitating the murder?” asked Lockton.

“I’m not sure. The scarecrow had brown yarn for hair, but I’m not sure what the shop dummy looked like. Was it trying to avenge Camille or imitate Dora?”

“If I recall, the dummy had a black wig. I was called in to look at the shop window.”

“Interesting …” She paused, lost in thought before continuing. She supposed there was no way for her to ever know if the hound had acted in imitation or vengeance. “Ambrose and I also found the second part of the zoetrope in the mine, you recall. In the recording, Camille had the zoetrope near her hand. Dora must have brought it as a blackmail payment, and put it into the hiding hole. She waited until Camille took it, then bashed her over the head with a rock. The zoetrope breaks, and after Dora leaves, the hound took pieces to the hiding hole and its cave.”

“So how do you figure that Dora was being blackmailed?”

“When we first arrived, Ambrose asked about the son of an old friend named Graves. The son was working here as Robert’s tutor. We learned that he had left suddenly, supposedly because his mother had fallen ill. However, Ambrose wrote to the elder Graves and received a letter back. Guess who delivered the letter to us?”

“Dora?”

“Yes. Beatrice and Robert were there too, but Dora must have seen the return address. The letter revealed that the younger Graves was released because he and Dora had become too close. At least, the letter hinted at it. The tutor sounded heartbroken when he returned home, as if he and Dora had been very much in love. I spoke with Robert, and though he wouldn’t confirm it, his manner suggested that Mr. Graves had, indeed, been released because of his relationship with Dora.

“Now, when we first arrived for our visit, Mr. Baxter, Dora’s fiancé, came for supper. Baxter mentioned an illness that his men had suffered in the Klondike. Mrs. Malone said that Dora had suffered a similar illness last winter, which was right around the time Mr. Graves was ordered to leave. Ambrose was intrigued, as he usually is when an herb or plant is in some way unusual.

“Later on, Ambrose had mentioned over supper that he was meeting with Mr. Baxter to discuss a publishing and investment business that would mutually benefit them both. He also was still intrigued by the symptoms that the men had exhibited. See, they had the symptoms of pennyroyal, an herb used to rid a woman of pregnancy.”

“But they were men.”

“Yes. And I don’t even know if they have pennyroyal in the Americas. But the symptoms were similar enough for Mrs. Malone to mention it over supper. Dora must have started to see Ambrose putting together the puzzle. He knew that she had symptoms of pennyroyal use in December. And she suspected that he had learned from the letter that Graves had not left because of an ill mother.

“Then, when Ambrose said he was going to discuss things with Mr. Baxter, I think she panicked. When she saw the soup that Mrs. Block had always prepared for sick members of the household, she knew he would be eating it. She gathered some mushrooms, chopped them and added them. Thus she could rid herself of any risk to her upcoming marriage.”

“Do you think Mr. Sullivan had figured out everything?”

Chloe shook her head. “I’m not sure. He said ‘Graves’ as he lay dying, but he also said other things. I don’t think he put it all together, but he might have, given enough time. What I do know is that Dora must have thought he knew something. And I know that Josephine died for nothing.”

The inspector nodded and paused for a moment out of respect. “How did you learn about the pennyroyal?”

“I saw that Mad Maggie had jars and jars of herbs in her kitchen. I know that many locals would come to her for remedies, especially people who couldn’t afford a doctor. But I also knew that women have been coming to people like her for centuries to rid themselves of unwanted babes. So once I knew that Dora may have carried Graves’s child, I asked Rebecca Hammond. She worked as an assistant to the three lady’s maids in this house. She told me how she had to get tea, special medicinal tea, from Mad Maggie. She also mentioned that both Dora and her maid fell ill, and again, it was the symptoms of pennyroyal.”

“Why would her maid become ill?”

“It is not unusual for a maid to finish up a pot of tea that her mistress left. If I understand herbal remedies properly, Dora would have had to drink as much of the pot as she could. If her maid did not know what kind of herb was in it, she may have decided to finish off the pot. So she had similar symptoms, but milder.”

“And Miss Hammond told you this?” He pulled out a pencil and made a note.

“Yes, she also told me that Camille had come by to visit Dora that day. They were close, from what she said. Camille was brilliant, and if she knew that Dora and Mr. Graves were lovers, or even if she merely suspected it, she may have noticed the effects of the tea and deduced that Dora’s goal was to lose the babe. Maybe she had even used such a concoction herself.”

“Your opinion of Mrs. Granger seems to have fallen.”

“She was a blackmailer as well as an adulterer.”

“The letters from Alexander?”

“Yes.”

“And you think Dora killed Camille so she wouldn’t be blackmailed any longer?”

“I suspect that Camille asked for more money, threatening to reveal all to Mr. Baxter. Or perhaps Dora was simply tired of paying. You can question Dora yourself, but I would guess that something changed in the situation, something that drove Dora into desperate action. Camille pressing Dora for additional funds may well have been the catalyst.”

“I will have our men look into it.”

“I have a question. It seems that a number of the locals go to a stone circle to meet. They only eat bread and drink wine, but it seems so strange.”

Inspector Lockton nodded. “I wondered about that as well, as soon as I learned about it. And there are other things that happen here too, things that outsiders like you and I naturally find strange. I have learned that the locals wink at those sorts of things. As long as everyone is at church on Sundays and no one causes any problems, no one seems to trouble themselves.”

Giles leapt into her lap, and she stroked him. She thought about the herbs that Mad Maggie had given her for Ambrose. They couldn’t have saved him even if he had taken them immediately. She would toss them out.

Mr. Lockton made a final note. “Are you are prepared to testify to all of this in a court of law?” he asked.

“Oh, yes.”

Dora would hang or, if the authorities were reluctant to hang a woman, she would rot in a jail cell for the rest of her life. She would never wear her wedding dress or see La Tour Eiffel. Chloe doubted a jury would feel much pity for the woman after they heard of young Josephine’s suffering, and her husband’s lingering and painful death.

Her Ambrose. She saw him again at the riverside, touching the brim of his hat. Or across from her at the breakfast table, a book in one hand and his other gesturing as he debated some point with her, his eyes dancing in pleasure. She saw him laughing. Her vision blurred and she glanced up as Inspector Lockton offered her a handkerchief.

The dark thing within her was different now. It was cold, like black machine lubricant in winter, slow moving and nearly lifeless.

Her Ambrose was avenged. It would never be enough, not really. But the dark thing within her was satisfied.

Chapter 46

T
en weeks later, Chloe relaxed
in front of her sitting room fire, her stocking-clad feet propped up in an unladylike fashion. Giles sat on the windowsill, watching the street traffic. A book was open in Chloe’s lap, but she had not read a word. Night had fallen an hour before, but she had failed to turn on a light. She watched the flames move in their endless dance.

The house had been too empty when she had returned home. After the funeral, the staff had helped her sort through Ambrose’s things, packing what she wanted to keep, sending off books and research notes to his colleagues and giving the rest to charity.

Mr. Frick had moved in with his spinster sister and they had purchased a pleasant townhouse. Chloe had made sure he had been given a handsome amount for retirement.

Miss Haynes opened the door. “I have a letter, mum. From Inspector Lockton.”

“Do you? Please come in.”

“My goodness, it’s dark in here.” Miss Haynes lit the lamp, sat and opened the letter. “Would you like me to read it?”

“Please.”

“It says, Mrs. Sullivan. I hope this letter finds you well. All of the men in the office offer their condolences on the death of your husband and their apologies for your inconvenience at our station.”

Chloe gave a laugh. “My inconvenience? I suppose I am fortunate they did not attempt to try me for avoiding arrest and escaping custody.”

“They do owe you, mum.”

Chloe did not take her eyes from the fire.

“Let’s see,” Miss Haynes continued. “He says that Dora’s trial is impending, and her family has secured the services of a well-known barrister. There is sure to be a local media spectacle. He sends the date and the location of the trial in Exeter, as you are a key witness.”

“So I am.”

Miss Haynes continued reading. “Miss Aynesworth has told our officers that Mrs. Granger threatened to ruin her with lies. She admits to no pregnancy or relationship with Mr. Graves beyond a friendship. However, our questioning of the family and servants as well as the Graves family has given us reason to suspect that there may have indeed been a relationship.”

Miss Haynes lowered the letter. “Do you think they will go after Mad Maggie for selling the tea? She could hang also.”

“I don’t know. I suppose they could. But something tells me that Mad Maggie wouldn’t have lived this long if she didn’t have a way to get out of such scrapes. Dora is not the first woman to come to her.”

Miss Haynes paused, nodded and went on. “I know you are interested in the remains of the hound. On orders, we shipped it to a military facility in Liverpool, where mechanical specialists of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy will examine it. I could not exact any promises that it would ever leave their possession in the future. I did however take the liberty of including a letter with the hound giving the address of one C. Sullivan who may be of assistance to them in understanding the thing’s inner workings. They may write you.”

“Kind of him,” muttered Chloe.

“You’ve already made up drawings of the hound though. You don’t need to see it again.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. But yes, I have enough information to build one, should I choose to.”

“He also says that he wishes us well, hopes that Mr. Frick and I are both in good health, etcetera. He sent the address of his office in Exeter as well, should we wish to write him.” She folded the paper and slipped it back into its envelope. “Are you all right, mum?”

“Hmm? Yes. I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten? The babe needs nourishment.”

Chloe sighed. She had not eaten, as she felt nauseated almost all the time. Her monthly courses were late, and she and Miss Haynes were now certain that she was with child. The thought made her unspeakably happy, though she was frightened also. Caring for a mechanical cat was one thing, a child was another.

“I’ll take some toast and tea later,” she said.

“You have not been in your laboratory much since we returned home.”

“I don’t have any projects currently.”

“What about working on Giles? Or another type of mechanical?”

“I haven’t had any ideas in a while.” Since she had come home, she had felt too tired or sad to do much work.

“What about recreating the hound’s moving image recorder? Don’t you think that sort of thing might be useful somewhere?”

“Like where?”

“Oh, I don’t know. For artists to study motion. Or to allow the police to record crimes. No, I suppose they’d have to know about a crime ahead of time for that. Oh, how about to record pictures of wild South American or African animals so naturalists here could study them without traveling?”

“For science?”

Chloe looked away from the fire and moved to the window. She stroked Giles. A street light cast a yellow glow over her street and a trap clattered past. Fog hung over the city, giving each street light a glowing halo. In the distance, behind the many buildings was the river, always moving, always constant.

“Or you could make something for the baby,” said Miss Haynes. “Perhaps a toy.”

That might be an interesting project. She knew it was not good for her to sit in the dark and mope. Ambrose’s babe would never know his or her father, but the child would know her. She had to be the sort of mother that Ambrose’s child deserved.

She could make a mechanical cat or dog, something like Giles, but without claws or teeth. Or perhaps she could make a set of birds that could sing in the nursery. They would sit on a tree, perhaps with a little squirrel that popped in and out of a hole. Ideas whirled through her mind, one after the other. The child would be born into a garden, not Ambrose’s sort with real plants and animals, but one that she could create. It would be her gift to Ambrose and to their child.

“You know, Miss Haynes, that’s not a bad thought.” She turned and smiled. “Hand me a piece of paper. I have an idea.”

The End