Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby #3)(13)

The door clicked open at last and a small woman with wide, round eyes gestured for us to come in.

“Good afternoon,” I said.

“Show them around like you showed me,” said Moore. Miss Wick looked out of sorts. “The house, woman.” He gestured at the walls around us. “Show them the house.”

She nodded but said nothing as she walked us through each room and up and down stairs. There were small scale replicas of steam engines and half-finished clockwork projects tucked all over, as well as schematics and sketches littering the professor’s office. Aside from these myriad marvelous designs, it could have been any family home. There were no obvious skeletons in the Hoole closets, only linen sheets and neatly folded towels. There was something else, though—some detail that tripped into the back of my mind and hid. The silent tour was finished by the time I had fully worked out what it was.

“Pavel has been here,” Jackaby whispered to me as we returned to the foyer. “I’m sure of it—although his aura has long faded. Some of the professor’s projects are quite keen, but otherwise I’ve not seen anything extraordinary. The general atmosphere of the place is a mix of innocence and secrets, though. Not sure what to make of it. Did you notice anything?”

“Only that someone else seems to be missing,” I said. He raised a meaningful eyebrow. “Diapers are folded neatly in the closet, little wooden blocks have fallen under the sofa . . .”

“Oh!” He nodded. “Yes, I see.”

“Pardon me, officer,” I said, “but did the Hooles have any children?”

“Nope,” Moore answered flatly.

“Curious,” I said.

“Not really. Only married about a year—which you would know if this were your investigation and not ours. All right. That’s it. You’ve seen the whole house. Can I take you back to the train station now, or do you feel like wasting more of my time?”

“Just a moment,” Jackaby said. He turned to Miss Wick. “Before we go, we would like to discuss with you the embarkation of your employer, if you don’t mind.”

Miss Wick nodded uncertainly.

“Could you expound upon the circumstances of the lady’s departure?”

She nodded politely again, but her eyes bespoke total confusion. She did not reply.

“Miss Cordelia’s departure?”

“Ah. Mrs. Cordelia, yes. Mrs. Cordelia is gone.” Miss Wick nodded again.

“She doesn’t speak much English,” Moore said. “Do you, Miss Wick?”

The woman shook her head. “Not much English, no.”

“Polish,” said Moore.

“Hm.” Jackaby looked to me. “How is your Polish, Miss Rook?”

“Nonexistent,” I answered.

Jackaby turned back to the housekeeper. “There was a baby? A child?” He motioned holding an infant, rocking his arms back and forth. “Where is the baby?”

“Przepraszam,” the woman said, looking helplessly to Officer Moore. “Nie rozumiem. I—I don’t understand.”

Jackaby scowled and leaned in very close, gazing into the woman’s eyes. Miss Wick staggered back a step.

“Mrs. Cordelia is gone,” Miss Wick repeated.

“Well, this is no help,” he said, and then brightened. “Just a moment.” Jackaby crossed the hall to the window, which stood ajar to let in the summer breeze. “Hello! Yes—you there. I can see your straw hat just beneath the hedge. What can you tell us about the child?”

Officer Moore and I hurried to join Jackaby at the window, outside which the nosy neighbor had been conveniently trimming an already immaculate bush. She swallowed and glanced around her garden.

“I’m sure it’s none of my business to meddle—” she hedged.

“Please do, madam. You meddling would be greatly appreciated.”

“Well”—she dropped the shears and leaned in—“the baby isn’t Cordelia’s. It came in with that maid, the foreign one. Anybody’s guess who the father is. She is a woman of ill repute, make no mistake. The Hooles hired her on shortly after they got back from their honeymoon. I have no idea why poor Lawrence—rest his soul—why he let that woman into his house. Cordelia was always fraternizing with her, too. Talking—and laughing, even! It’s not how you’re supposed to interact with the help, let alone such a disreputable sort.”

“If the baby is Miss Wick’s, then where is it off to now?” I said. “We’ve been through every room in the house.” I turned back to regard the Hooles’ unassuming housekeeper, but Miss Wick was suddenly nowhere to be seen. “Miss Wick?” I said. Moore and Jackaby joined me in scanning the room. “Miss Wick?”

Officer Moore helped us search the house from top to bottom, but Miss Wick had vanished. “Her aura is stiflingly unremarkable and it’s everywhere in this house,” Jackaby griped as he hunted for a trail. “It’s like searching for hay in a haystack.” Eventually he caught a recent thread of panic and distress in the air, but it led out the back door and off into the bustling Glanville streets. “She’s gone,” he announced.

“Huh,” grunted a baffled Officer Moore. “Miss Wick’s been around for every stage of the investigation. She never gave us any trouble. Her running off like that . . .” He took off his uniform cap and shook his head as he peered up and down the busy lane. “That’s odd.”