A Rip Through Time(99)

She says nothing, and we’ve gone clear across to High Street before she speaks again. “I am refraining from the obvious reaction, which is to exclaim that you cannot possibly suspect Simon of these murders based on something as mildly concerning as thinking you saw him following us.”

“I did see him following us.”

“Still, I presume there’s more, and it’s connected to the things you are avoiding telling me. I hope you are not doing so out of any consideration for my sensibilities. I get quite enough of that from Hugh. A few childhood incidents, and I am forever branded faint of heart.”

She walks a few more steps before continuing, “Perhaps the last was well past childhood, but it was entirely Duncan’s fault. One does not expect to step into one’s place of family business and see one’s brother playing with a decapitated head.”

“Playing?”

She huffs. “Examining it. But he seemed to be talking to it, and I did not realize Hugh was also in the room, and so it gave me a start.”

I sputter a laugh. “Alas, poor Yorick?”

“Yes, only this skull still had a face, which made it so much worse. I fainted, which was primarily due to the heat and the tightness of my corset, as I was off to a garden party. The concussion was quite mild, and the nightmares stopped after a few weeks, but you would think I was scarred for life to hear Hugh tell the tale.”

“Hey, if you’re okay with nightmares and fainting spells, I won’t stand in your way. No, I’m not holding back out of concern for your sensibilities. Your brother and Detective McCreadie are the reason I’d rather not explain my theory. In order to tell it to them, we’d need to explain the time traveling. So to tell you would put you into an awkward position.”

“The same awkward position that you are already in.”

“Yes, but it’s not my brother or my friend.”

“I would like to take that responsibility, Mallory.”

I open my mouth to protest. Then I shut it. Isla lives in a world of endless insurmountable walls and locked gates. Thy name is woman, and so thou shalt not pass. By protecting her, I’m doing the same thing she’s doing to Gray, but it feels different to her, and I need to put myself in her place and understand that.

If she chooses to take this risk, do I have the right to refuse her? Especially if not telling her could damage the investigation—rob me of a person to bounce my ideas off? I told myself that when this secret endangered the investigation, I’d share it. We’ve reached that point.

“All right,” I say finally, as we approach the gardens leading to the New Town. “May I ask that we finish discussing Simon first? Trust that I have a good reason for suspecting him, answer my questions, and then I’ll tell you.”

When she hesitates, I say, “You have my word on that, Isla. It’s not a trick. I would rather ask these questions without you being influenced by my theory.”

“All right. I trust you, and I will prove that by sharing information I would never give to anyone in our household, including my brother. When it comes to the pasts of my employees, I share them with Duncan only as they affect him.”

“Need-to-know basis.”

“Quite. He must know that Catriona is a thief or Alice a pickpocket. He does not need to know that Simon was a…” She clears his throat. “He found himself in trouble because he consorted with men. Older homosexual men.”

“He was a sex worker?” I guess.

“Actually, no. That is, I do not think so, in the strictest sense, and if he did accept money, it is no different from a shopgirl accepting rent from a wealthy admirer. Simon…” She coughs into her gloved hand. “I apologize if I stumble here, which must seem terribly quaint to you. I consider myself a woman of the world, yet I know the world extends beyond my experience with it. Simon had a friend, a young man who was not quite as handsome but was very charming and garrulous. I believe they were merely friends, but it is none of my business either way. The two of them played a sport of dressing as girls, a very pretty and charming pair of girls who frequented theaters and such establishments and flirted with men who knew exactly what they were and enjoyed participating in the performance. Liaisons were formed, to the financial benefit of Simon and his friend. It is not a world I inhabit, but I see no harm in it.”

“All parties were consenting.”

“Yes.” She turns onto Princes Street and lowers her voice more. “The problem came when Simon’s friend extricated himself from an attachment that had proven increasingly worrisome. He found a new benefactor, and his old one killed both him and his new lover.”

I should express shock, and I make a noise that approximates it, but I’ve seen this before. Simon’s friend fled a toxic relationship, and he was murdered for it. Too common a tale, whatever the time period.

Isla continues, “It threatened to be quite a scandal, especially given that the murderer was a man of high standing in the city. The police were bribed to look the other way. I fear they were only too happy to wash their hands of the matter. They did, however, need a scapegoat, and their eye fell on Simon.”

“Shit.”

“He was eighteen, the son of an Irish immigrant, and involved in what they considered ‘deviant’ behavior. He avoided the gallows only because one of his past lovers had the influence to help him and did not—thankfully—fear getting involved. This man knows Hugh, and through him knew my hiring practices, and so I took on Simon as a groom. I would not presume to say I know him well, but I am quite certain he chose that former life of his own volition, following his own propensities.”