Wouldn't It Be Deadly (23 page)

Redstone returned to his plate of kedgeree. “I shall say nothing of Kollas's past history, if that's what you both wish.”

“I should hope not,” Higgins said. “Especially since none of this concerns you.”

“Professor.” Eliza shot him a warning look.

“But it does concern me. First, you are a close colleague of Colonel Pickering and he would be crushed to see you unjustly convicted of murder. Second, you are a renowned language scholar whom I have long admired, and I would regret the loss of your future work. Last, but perhaps most important, Eliza regards you as a friend and mentor. She would be heartbroken to see you in prison.”

Her mouth full, Eliza could only nod.

Higgins tapped his spoon against his dish of half-eaten cod cakes. “We've been so busy speaking about Kollas and Eliza's conversation with Nottingham that I never learned how you came to be in Kensington Gardens today. Was this something the two of you planned?”

“Oh no, it was a complete surprise when he turned the corner. And glad I was to see him. Nottingham was getting too nervous and wanted to hightail it out of the gardens—and me with him. He got scared at seeing Aubrey and slipped out of the park like the dodger he once was.” Eliza frowned. “Still is, I suppose.”

“Then we can keep James Nottingham on our list of suspects?”

Higgins bristled at Redstone's use of the word “our.” “Of course he is still a suspect. Even if the young upstart manages to come up with an alibi, no doubt it would include one of his criminal cronies. And the police would dismiss them out of hand.”

“We must think carefully about what we tell my cousin.” Eliza's expression turned somber. “He will bring Nottingham in for questioning. Knowing Jack, he'll discover his criminal record. But I don't think we should reveal his plan to rob the bank.”

“Why not?” Higgins said. “Better now, rather than after they've done it.”

“No. I saw Bill Rathbone and Charlie Hyde with him at the park. They're all in on the plan. And such a big job would take more than three men to have any success, so there must be others we don't know about. If we blow the whistle, the police will arrest the three of them. But you and I will be targeted by the rest of their gang. No one will be able to protect us, Professor, least of all the police.”

“She's right,” Redstone said.

This was all getting too murky. Higgins could scarcely believe that only last month, he had been enjoying the sun and sonorous dialects of Spain. Now he was being hauled in and out of Scotland Yard, learning unhappy secrets about men he barely knew, and worrying that he had dragged Eliza into what had become a deadly situation.

“I should never have allowed you to become involved in this, Eliza,” Higgins said. “It's far too dangerous.”

“Now you sound like the Colonel. I'm not some nervous little girl in pantaloons. When I was nine years old, I saw two men beat each other bloody on Cordelia Street. It ended when one of them bashed the other's head in with a brick.”

“He killed him?” Redstone sounded shocked.

“Don't know how else you could bash someone's head in without sending him to the undertaker. And I've been witness to much worse, believe me.” Eliza sighed. “Sometimes I think the folks in Whitechapel have seen more bloodshed than the soldiers who fought the Boers.”

Higgins turned back to Redstone. “You never answered my question. How did you happen to be at Kensington Gardens today? It seems a remarkable coincidence.”

“As I told Eliza on the way here, it wasn't only Pickering who was concerned about her meeting Nottingham alone. Even if she were with him in a public place, lots of treacherous things are done in public places. I decided to follow her, discreetly of course, and make certain she remained safe.”

“Rather sweet, don't you think?” Eliza smiled at Redstone. “Although I would have been angry at him if I'd known of his plan this morning.”

Higgins smirked. “And now you couldn't be more grateful for your Galahad.”

“I don't know who Galahad is, but I'm sure you're being sarcastic.” Eliza drank down the last of her beer. “And I don't see why. Aubrey didn't upset my conversation with Nottingham, and he got me out of there when I needed an excuse to get away.” She stood, and both men rose to their feet. “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment.”

As Eliza left the glass-paneled room, Higgins noticed that more than one man at the surrounding tables stared at her departing figure. He'd have to speak with Pickering about buying the girl less alluring dresses. Her lace blouse verged on scandalous. In another year, she'd be flouncing about London looking like a dancer from the Moulin Rouge. When did this little cabbage become so damnably pretty?

“I'm glad that you and Pickering are as concerned for her welfare as I am,” Redstone said as they sat down once more. “Between the three of us and her detective cousin, we should be able to keep her safe from harm.”

“She's too young for you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” Higgins said. “Your interest in her is neither scholarly nor avuncular. So I am telling you once and for all that you are far too old to harbor fancies about Miss Doolittle.”

Redstone sat back. “I do not harbor fancies about the young lady. I find her charming, of course. Who wouldn't? And I admire that she has worked so hard and so successfully to better her station in life. If you ask me, Professor, you take far too much credit for her transformation, while giving her scarcely any credit at all.”

“I didn't ask you. And I know better than anyone how hard Eliza has worked.”

“I wonder. You seem at times like Pygmalion with his Galatea.” Redstone picked up his glass of port. “If I recall the myth correctly, Pygmalion fell in love with his creation. I suspect that you have as well.”

“What a cheeky fellow. The more I know you, the less like a scholar you seem.”

“There are all sorts of scholars, not all of them confirmed bachelors who only view women as a nuisance.” Redstone gave him a pitying look. “Even the Colonel has had a romance or two in his life, not that I imagine he has ever confided such things to you.”

Higgins snorted. “True enough. Pick and I don't sit around mooning about romantic love like girls who have just danced their first quadrille at a ball. You must spend an inordinate amount of time mooning about it, what with all that poetry you're forever reading and translating.”

“I make no apologies for devoting my life to translating poetry. Some of the greatest minds have written poems, many of them paeans to love. A shame you don't understand any of it, aside from meter.”

“It probably impresses the ladies. How many young women have you declaimed verses to, I wonder. Of course since you are a bachelor as I am, it appears that either you are not serious about your romantic sentiments, or the ladies found you lacking.”

“I have had my moments.” Redstone threw back what was left of his port, then set his glass down hard on the table.

“I don't care what you have had,” Higgins said quickly when he caught sight of Eliza's return. “As long as you do not plan on having any moments with Miss Doolittle.”

Eliza rejoined them. “It seems the skies have opened up, so we'll have to hire a cab to return home.” She hiccupped. “Excuse me.”

“Are you and the Professor questioning any more of Nepommuck's pupils today?” Redstone asked.

“Not until tomorrow. We're going to the theater to talk with Miss Page. She's in dress rehearsal for
Hamlet
.” Eliza adjusted her hat. “I can't wait to see what her dressing room looks like, and how many costumes she'll be wearing. I hope some of them have feathers.”

“And she may have information about who else Nepommuck was blackmailing,” Higgins added. “A minor concern compared to the costumes.”

“Allow me to pay for lunch.” Redstone placed several pound notes on the table.

Eliza clasped her hands. “Oh, thank you, Aubrey.”

Higgins fought hard not to laugh. It seemed the Cockney temptress was tipsy.

“You were sweet to watch over me at the park,” she went on. “Now I want to do something nice for you. Let's say we stop by my classroom in Belgrave Square and I'll get those poetry books.”

“You can't be serious, Eliza.” Higgins grabbed her elbow as she swayed on her feet. “You went white as a ghost walking down the hallway to his apartment yesterday. Not that I blame you. But it's much too soon for you to go back. I'm afraid you'll faint.”

She gave him a shove. “Garn, I never fainted in my life. And unless there's another dead body lying up there right now, I'm going to march into my classroom and take what belongs to me.” Eliza grinned. “Besides, I drank three glasses of Guinness to give me courage. Now let's get going. I want me books!”

Higgins feared the girl might indeed faint away, but from drunkenness.

“Inspector Shaw told us yesterday that both apartments were now off-limits,” Redstone said.

She waved a dismissive hand. “I'll tell the policemen on guard that Jack gave us permission to retrieve my belongings. He won't mind.”

“Yes, he will,” Higgins warned.

Eliza shoved him again. “I don't care if he minds or not. Those ain't his books. And if the coppers try and stop me, I'll brain them with my parasol, like I did that nasty red-haired detective. What's so funny?”

“You,” Higgins said, laughing. Eliza rarely drank more than a small glass of claret. Downing three pints of Irish stout in one hour had been foolish. Had she drunk a fourth, she'd be dancing on the table right now.

Redstone turned to Higgins with an equally amused expression. “If we don't accompany her, she'll end up going there alone, and when we least expect it, too.”

Eliza hiccupped again. “Right then, gents. We're off.”

The two men started after her, but not before Higgins muttered to Redstone, “Remember, you're too old for her.”

Redstone raised his eyebrow. “So are you.”

*   *   *

By the time they reached the door to her classroom, Eliza was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other. Drinking three pints of Guinness was a mistake. Two would have given her courage; the third seemed likely to make her lose her shepherd's pie. Outside the weather had turned stormy. An occasional roll of thunder rumbled overhead—just like the morning she found a stranger lurking in the dark hallway. The whole building now seemed cursed. She hoped to retrieve all her personal belongings because she never wanted to visit this place again.

“I thought there would be a policeman standing guard,” Redstone said.

Although signs warning off trespassers were posted on both Nepommuck's door and the room where Eliza gave lessons, the hallway was empty and silent. Eliza pressed an ear to her classroom door, but heard nothing.

She hiccupped. “I don't think anyone's inside.”

“Knowing Scotland Yard, they're probably having a pint at a corner pub,” Higgins said. “And no, Eliza, you are not joining them.”

Trying to stand upright, she gave him her haughtiest look. “Are you implying that I drank too much Guinness?”

“Yes,” Higgins and Redstone said at the same time.

“I wish you'd let us take you back to Wimpole Street, Eliza,” Redstone added. “You should lie down for a bit. Maybe have a strong cup of tea. We can come back here when the police have finished their business.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “Nonsense, I'm fit as a fiddler. And I've come to get those books for you.”

Still, Eliza hesitated to unlock the door. When she did this yesterday across the hall, she'd found a dead woman lying on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside. The curtains were pulled open, but due to the cloud-tossed skies, the room remained dark. She switched on the electric lights.

“Bloody hell!”

The entire room was in complete disarray. Drawers yanked out of cupboards, papers strewn over the floor, her teaching tools scattered about like debris left after a violent windstorm. The three of them stepped carefully to avoid further damage to her overturned books, tuning forks, and broken phonograph records. She whirled about, taking in the havoc.

“I wouldn't be surprised if those blooming detectives Grint and Hollaway did this. They don't like me a bit, especially after learning that Jack was me cousin.”

“Eliza,” Higgins said softly.

“I mean,
my
cousin.” She stopped as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

“I doubt that Grint and Hollaway would risk angering your cousin further, especially where you're concerned,” Redstone said.

“He's right. This is probably normal search procedure for the police.” Higgins couldn't help being sardonic.

“I'm going to talk to Jack about this right away.” Eliza hiccupped yet again. “How dare the police turn my classroom into a barmy wreck!”

She knelt down to examine pieces of her teacups scattered about the floor. The small table the tea set sat on had also been knocked over. Muttering under her breath, she took note of what was broken and what had been flung about without care. It would take hours to tidy up, and it had best be the police who straightened up her room.

“Where are your books, Eliza?” Redstone helped her to stand. “We can collect the whole lot of them and take them back to Wimpole Street.”

Higgins picked up the stray tuning forks. “I shall collect all your teaching implements and pack them. I have no intention of leaving behind perfectly good phonetics tools for the police to commit further mayhem with.”

Eliza stepped over to the bookshelves along the far wall. All the books had been thrown to the floor, and she had no choice but to start piling them on the nearby sofa, which—mercifully—remained upright and clear of debris.