The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(68)

"You have more faith in him than I do. I agree that family and the title are very important to him, but you are not the lord yet, and he seems to resent the title going to his brother's American son."

He looked pained, and I instantly regretted my directness. I don't know what had come over me lately. I'd turned into quite the opinionated mule. "I doubt Hope will tell him anything about what she saw today," he said. "It's not like anyone would believe her if she claimed to witness my watch glow and my veins turn purple."

True, but my fears were not allayed. His secret was best kept among ourselves. I picked up the clock, my arms straining under its weight.

"Allow me." Matt took it off me. The clock made a whirring sound then silenced. He stared at it. "Should it be making that noise?"

"No." I checked that it still kept correct time against my watch. It seemed fine and didn't whir again. "Perhaps it likes you."

"Or perhaps it's protesting leaving your hands," he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He set the clock on the mantel and centered it beneath the painting of a Glass ancestor above. "I think this clock is now my favorite in the entire house."

"Because it made a whirring sound?"

"Because we understand one another."

"It's a clock, Matt. It doesn't understand anything."

The clock whirred again and chimed once. I hurried from the room, not because of the clock, but because I didn't want Matt to see how his flirting made me blush.



We managed to be shown in to Dr. Ritter's office by lying to the nurse at the front desk. We claimed to be relatives of the man who'd died under Dr. Wiley's care. Dr. Ritter agreed to see us immediately.

"You!" he snapped when we walked in. "Get out at once!" He attempted to shut the door, but Matt wedged himself into the gap and forced it open.

"Dr. Ritter, we just have a quick, discreet question," he said. "Who did you sell Dr. Hale's medicines to?"

Dr. Ritter shrank back then, sighing, retreated behind his desk. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You sold Dr. Hale's personal medicine collection to someone. Who?"

He collected a stack of papers and shuffled them. "You're mistaken."

"So if we enter Dr. Hale's office now, we'll still find jars and bottles on the shelves?"

"Of course not. Everything in his office was sent down to the storeroom or dispensary. His personal effects were returned to his business partner, Mr. Pitt."

Matt leaned over the desk. "You're lying."

Dr. Ritter scooted his chair back as far as it would go. "Mr. Glass, if you don't leave now, I'll report you to Detective Inspector Brockwell. He assured me that your investigation was not sanctioned by him and that you are not working with him. I suspect he would happily arrest you." He shot Matt a triumphant look from his distant position.

I wrapped my hand around Matt's arm but didn't have to say anything. He turned and marched off, waiting for me to catch up at the door.

"That's your idea of discreet?" I said as we headed back along the corridor.

"If you think sweetness will lure him into answering, then be my guest and try."

We found Dr. Wiley in his office down the hallway, his head in his hands and an open medical text in front of him on the desk. I felt a little sorry for him. He'd not had a good week, what with pronouncing one patient dead only to have him brought back to life by a rival, then having another patient die under his care and the widow accuse him of negligence.

"Dr. Wiley," I said gently before Matt could fire questions at him. "Are you all right?"

Dr. Wiley lowered his hands. He looked awful. Indeed, he looked like Matt did when he needed a rest. His thin gray hair was disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed and the wrinkles across his forehead had multiplied and deepened. He groaned upon seeing us. "Miss Steele, Mr. Glass, what are you doing here?"

"We came to speak to Dr. Ritter," I said. It wasn't a complete lie but I thought it might make him relax enough to talk to us if he thought we weren't interested in him.

His shoulders did lose some of their tension. "Ritter," he said with a bitter twist of his mouth.

I waited for him to go on, or for Matt to ask his questions, but neither spoke. "Has something happened between you and Dr. Ritter?" I prompted. "You seem a little…upset."

"And rightly so!" He tapped his chest. "I have been a surgeon for over thirty years, Miss Steele. Thirty! Ten of those at this hospital. I ought to be respected." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a silver flask. "If I'd been made principal surgeon, this hospital would never have employed the likes of that jumped up pharmacist in the first place."

"You mean Dr. Hale?" I asked, all innocence.

He took a sip from his flask but it mustn't have been enough to fortify him, because he drank more. "Of course I mean Hale. Everything began to unravel after he came here. Everything!"

"It seems to me that you've been treated most unfairly, Dr. Wiley," I said, approaching him. "Anyone can see that you work hard. And if it's any consolation, I think most of the staff appreciate you."

"Not Ritter," he muttered into the flask. "Not after…after my patient died and his widow…well, I won't bore you with the details."