The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(59)

"I've been thinking the same thing myself," Matt said. He ordered Bryce to take us to Scotland Yard.

"You want to speak to Munro about Coyle?" I asked as he settled on the seat opposite me.

"Brockwell, not Munro."

"But he wants to arrest you!"

"All the more reason to keep him informed. I don't have the greatest faith in the police force coming to the right conclusion on their own, so we need to feed them as much evidence as we can."

"You may have to convince him not to confront Coyle and ruin our spying efforts."

"Or I may need to convince him to believe me in the first place."

That was as much a concern as anything. If Brockwell was in Payne's pocket, we might have to go over his head and speak to Munro again. I knew it galled Matt to even consider it, but we may have no other choice.

I was about to say as much and looked up to see Matt watching me.

"Are you thinking about your grandfather?" he asked.

Barratt's suggestion that my grandfather could be alive had rocked me, but now that the initial shock had passed, I wasn't convinced.

"You're frowning," he said, leaning forward. "Are you all right?"

I nodded. "I never knew the man, so the news isn't upsetting. But don't you think my grandfather would have tried to make contact with me if he was in London?"

"Perhaps he didn't know where to look. He may have gone to the shop and found it renamed Hardacre's and given up."

"If so, then he gave up too easily. He could have asked Eddie where to find me."

"Unless he didn't want anyone to know he was still alive. India…" He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "India, have you considered that your grandfather may be Chronos, hiding out in London under the name DuPont?"

"It crossed my mind. But he isn't a magician so he can't be Chronos. Mr. Barratt says my grandmother was the magical one."

"Barratt could be wrong. He based his assumption on the observations of one source—and an elderly man, at that. If your grandfather is Chronos, it would explain why he hasn't come looking for you—he wants to keep his identity a secret."

"For reasons we do not yet know." I sighed, feeling rather exhausted by it all, and by our lack of progress in finding Chronos. Time was running out for Matt, and every step forward was followed by another step back.

He must be heartily sick of getting nowhere.

Matt's hand closed over mine on my lap. "It'll be all right, India. We'll find him."

"Do you mean my grandfather or Chronos?"

"Both." His crooked smile told me he still supposed them to be one and the same.

We had to wait thirty-five minutes for Detective Inspector Brockwell. One of his men brought us tea that we drank in the outer office. Matt could hardly sit still, however, and frequently got up to pace the room or look out the window. I, on the other hand, occupied myself with the small mantel clock which was a full minute behind. I had it working perfectly by the time Brockwell finally entered.

He removed his coat and hat and hung them on the stand near the door. He did not seem surprised to see us, so he must have been warned. "Come through," he said and indicated the two guest chairs near the desk in his office.

"We have another suspect for you," Matt said as he sat. "You need to investigate him."

Brockwell undid the buttons on his jacket, taking his time with each one before moving on to the next. He kept his gaze on Matt but did not speak. It was as if he could only focus on one task at a time. Or he was deliberately trying to rile Matt by stirring up his simmering frustration? "Do I now? And who might that be?"

"Lord Coyle."

Brockwell scratched his sideburns. "And why would Lord Coyle murder a doctor from the London Hospital?"

"We don't know, but he's involved somehow. He sent a man to my house to order us to stop the investigation. He threatened Miss Steele in my absence."

"Threatened you? Miss Steele, were you harmed?"

"No," I said.

"When was this?"

"Before lunch."

The detective tugged his watch by its chain and checked the time. "It's almost four now. Why did you take so long to report it?"

"We're reporting it to you now," Matt growled.

"I was overwrought," I said. "I needed time to recover."

The poor, delicate female act seemed to work on Brockwell. He nodded in sympathy. "So tell me, Mr. Glass, how did you connect the man to Coyle?"

"Miss Steele followed him," Matt said.

Brockwell turned to me. "You followed him? Despite being overwrought?"

"That came later," I said quickly. "He went to Lord Coyle's house. I've been there before and recognized it."

"So you assume the man works for Coyle."

"We do," Matt said. "There's no other conclusion to make."

"He could be a friend or acquaintance."

"Then Lord Coyle keeps strange company," I said. "The man was a thug with a Cockney accent."

"Perhaps Lord Coyle isn't too particular who he calls friend."

Matt drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You sound as if you have no intention of investigating him."