Part 14 (1/2)

When he came back five minutes later the boys had the front stoop clear and were starting on the pa.s.sage. The biggest of them spotted Josh and pushed the smallest-a towhead wielding a shovel that was taller than he was-into his path. ”I take it you're to be the errand boy,” Josh said.

”Yes, sir. Where am I to go, sir?”

”First to New York Hospital. Sixteenth and Fifth. Ask for Dr. Simon Turner and don't put this note into the hands of anyone else.” Josh was quite certain his brother would have remained at his post once the storm began, so no question but Simon would be at the hospital now. ”After that take this second note to the police office on Broadway. Give it to the first copper you see.”

Four hours later the police were carrying George Higgins's body out the front door that according to them had been forced open sometime the previous day-it had never occurred to Josh to look-and Simon was seated in the dining room waiting for him to come and eat a midday meal prepared by Tess o' the Roses. ”Course no one's been to the markets yesterday nor today, but I found a bit of leftover ham pie still smells likely and some beans I set to soak, and there's a cabbage and plenty of potatoes, so I can make do if you want.”

Josh said indeed he did want, and having seen off the last of the coppers he went gratefully to the table, glad not only for the hot and appetizing food but for the fact that his brother was there to share it with him. Simon had already told him Mollie's fever had broken, and that with proper rest the prognosis was excellent.

”What an unbelievable, miserable business,” Josh said as he sat down. ”I wouldn't believe it if I read it in a book by some overwrought lady novelist. The mad woman in the attic and the dwarf dead in the drawing room as was.”

”You're missing the governess, however. There's always a governess. Seriously, Josh, the dwarf worked for you?”

”Yes. Down in the foundry.”

”Making steel for your tower of shelves in which to stack people. Like bags of flour.”

Josh blinked. That had been Trenton Clifford's a.n.a.logy. ”I keep telling you,” he said, helping himself, meanwhile, to generous portions of the food Tess had spread on the table, ”those flats are going to be commodious and affordable for ordinary folk, and a d.a.m.n sight better than living in one of the family residences that right now is pretty much their only choice.”

”Have any been leased?”

”Not yet. And this rotten weather is not going to help.”

”It will pa.s.s. Listen, about the dwarf . . . You said you hadn't sent for him.”

”I did not. I was uptown at Sixty-Third Street almost since first light, and when I came home, I . . . Look here, Simon, I've been explaining this to the coppers for the past few hours. Do you mind if I don't go over it all again? I don't know why he was here, or how he got in, or what reason he may have had for turning over my office the way he apparently did. Though I suppose it could have been whoever killed him. Any further reports on Mollie?”

”She's sleeping now. I've given her a sedative and I expect she'll stay asleep all day, but she's doing remarkably well. She's quite a strong woman, your wife, for all her looking like a reed. Though apparently she won't for much longer.”

”Ah. I gather then she told you she was expecting.” Simon and Tess and G.o.d knows who else; only he, apparently, was not in Mollie's confidence.

”She did,” Simon said. ”She estimates going on for three months and I concur. She wants a doctor, by the way. Not a midwife as will lock her up for months on end in this 'confinement' nonsense that's their stock-in-trade, and I think she's entirely correct. You should allow it, Josh. A doctor will cost a bit more, but it's much the wiser course than one of these nattering women who have no proper medical training.”

”Yes, of course. But . . . Not you, Simon.” He blurted out the words, then realized they might sound offensive. ”I mean, I'm sure you're a fine doctor. It's just-”

The younger man guffawed loudly. ”Of course not me! Don't be stupid. Doctors aren't encouraged to treat their relations. Besides, we don't all do everything these days as it was in Papa's time. Mollie must have a proper obstetrician. I'll ask around if you like. And if you don't mind his knowing, I'll talk to Papa. He's still very much esteemed in the profession. Any number of doctors come to talk to him about what-all. He'll have some ideas on who would be best.”

”Yes. Thank you. Do ask him. That would be excellent.”

”Good. Settled then. Now, tell me about the murder weapon.”

”What about it?”

”Was it a knife from downstairs? From your own kitchen?”

Josh remembered his initial reaction the moment he first laid eyes on poor George's body. His thought had been that the dwarf had been stabbed with a dagger. That's what he'd put in the note summoning the police. A man in my employ . . . came home at the height of the storm to find him dead in my study, with a dagger between his shoulder blades. ”No. I'd never seen the thing before and it was nothing I'd expect to find in this house. Sort of an oversized bowie knife.”

”I see. Plunged up to the hilt, was it?”

”Simon, I know doctors deal with all manner of gruesome details and you read all those scary stories as a boy, but this isn't an exciting adventure as far as I'm concerned. The man worked for me. I'm responsible in a sort of way. And as soon as the roads are pa.s.sable I have to go downtown and tell the men at the foundry what's happened.”

”Mollie shouldn't be alone,” Simon said at once. ”Can the woman with the hat remain with her? At least until your household's back to normal.”

”I'll ask her,” Josh said. ”But in any case I shall send for Mollie's Aunt Eileen this afternoon. I'm sure she'll come the moment she can get through.”

”We was thinking,” Ebenezer Tickle said, ”that George got hung up somewhere 'cause of the storm. That we'd see him back once the streets was cleared.”

”I'm truly sorry, Mr. Tickle,” Josh said. ”And I came to tell you as soon as I could.” It was Tuesday, five full days since the storm. The horsecars were operating on some of their runs, though the streetcars-dependent as they were on following tracks laid on the ground-were still idle. The elevated railroad, meanwhile, had proved itself the easiest means of transportation to restore to normalcy. The sun had a better chance to melt the snow on the tracks suspended above the city over Greenwich Street and Ninth Avenue. Getting around wasn't easy, but it was at least possible. ”I take it the police haven't sent anyone to speak with you yet?”

”No coppers, no. Ain't likely they'll trouble themselves too much,” Tickle added. ”Not about one of us.”

Josh didn't argue with that. These sorts of people, sir, they get up to all kinds o' things a gentleman like yourself wouldn't even imagine. That from a police sergeant clearly more interested in getting home to his dinner than solving the mystery of what had happened in Joshua Turner's front room. ”Mr. Tickle, have you any idea what George was doing at my house? I certainly didn't send for him. I wasn't even home.”

Ebenezer didn't answer immediately. Josh looked over to where Tickle's cousin Obadiah stood with Israel McCoy, the third of the original three dwarves who came to work at the foundry. Neither man made any pretense about how avidly they were listening to the conversation.

The foreman waved them off. ”Here, you two, show some respect for the dead. Go back there and get George's things together.”

Ebenezer waited until they'd moved off, then turned back to Josh. ”I sent him,” he said quietly. ”Didn't have any idea the storm was coming.”

”No way you could have known. But what did you send him for? And why at midday when I wasn't likely to be at home?”

The dwarf shook his head. ”Poor George. I never thought . . . I'd not have sent him if I'd any idea . . .”

”I know that, Mr. Tickle. I'm not blaming you for anything, I a.s.sure you. But why did you send him?”

”To find you. Said he should check your house first, then go on up to the building site if you weren't there.”

”From Wall Street all the way up to Sixty-Third,” Josh said quietly. ”I think you'd better tell me the reason for that, Mr. Tickle. Given that it was Thursday and except for the storm, which as you say none of us knew was coming, you would have expected me on Sat.u.r.day with the pay packets, it seems a rather extraordinary errand.”

”You might say.”

”I do, Mr. Tickle.”

The dwarf glanced over his shoulder. The other two men were still occupied at the far end of the foundry. ”Trenton Clifford,” he said. ”He'd been hanging about down here. I seen him twice. Last time was that same day. Before the storm started. He was down here looking around. Before that George had told me he seen Clifford as well. Three times he said.”

”And that alarmed you,” Joshua said.

”It did.”

”I think, Mr. Tickle, it's time you told me the nature of the connection between you and Captain Clifford.”

Ebenezer peered into the shadows, though Josh had no idea what exactly he was looking for. ”Not here,” the dwarf said. ”I'll take you to a place.”

11.

”IT'S A STORY as takes some time for the telling,” Ebenezer said. ”And this is a good place to tell it.”