The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(76)

Matt paused, apparently as surprised by Oakshot's admission as me. "But why?" he asked. "You deliberately lost money on it."

"Because that so-called doctor—that bloody murderer—killed my wife. His name doesn't deserve to live on in his Cure-All. He doesn't deserve to be remembered, not even on a label. He doesn't have children; he left behind no family, and I rejoice, because that makes it easier to obliterate his name forever. He took away the one thing I cared about…" He choked back a sob and his mouth twisted as he fought to control himself. "So I took away the thing he cared about—his legacy. Now he is truly, unequivocally, gone."

He sat back in his chair again, all the fight gone out of him. He was nothing more than a middle-aged man staring into the pit of despair.

Matt thanked him for his time and we hurried down the stairs and out to the street.

"That poor man," I said once we settled into the carriage.

"That poor man just climbed to the top of my suspect list," Matt said. "There is a lot of hate in his heart. That much hate can drive a man to murder."

"Destroying a few hundred bottles is not the same thing as taking a life, Matt. It takes quite a different man to kill." But I didn't speak with much conviction. What if I was wrong about Mr. Oakshot? What if my sympathy for him affected my judgment? "Perhaps you're right," I muttered to the window. "I don't know."

"Or I might be wrong," Matt said.

I met his gaze in the reflection. It looked troubled.

"You're doubting your instincts again," he said.

And with good reason. I didn't tell him so, however. It would only make him feel guilty for the argument over Oscar Barratt again. "So why are we going to Mr. Pitt's shop now?" He'd directed Bryce to drive there before assisting me into the carriage. "What do you hope to learn?"

"I have no idea." He sighed. "But I don't know where else to turn. Perhaps he'll know if Oakshot lied about destroying the Cure-All."

"You really do think Oakshot's a magician and wishes to study it?"

"I'm not discarding any possibility yet."



"I wanted to get rid of it," Mr. Pitt said without looking up from the brass and timber scales he was using. "I've ended the Cure-All's production and couldn't move the remaining stock. Mr. Oakshot offered to buy it, and I was keen to sell. We both benefit."

"Do you know what he did with it?" Matt asked.

Mr. Pitt tipped a small amount of brown powder onto the scales then added another spoonful. "No. You'd have to ask him."

"He destroyed every last bottle and label."

"So he's going to sell it as his own, eh?" He tipped more powder onto the scales, balancing them. "That's typical of him. Oakshot believes in quantity not quality. He sells his medicines cheaply but because he makes so much of it, he still makes a handsome profit. He was able to buy the Cure-All at a vastly reduced sum. Even with the cost of putting it into his own bottles with his own labels, he'll still save on production."

"He emptied the medicine into the sewer."

He glanced up from the scales. "Why?"

"Because he hated Dr. Hale and wants there to be nothing left of him."

Mr. Pitt blinked. "Good lord. I knew he was upset over his wife's death, but I always thought business came first with him. It appears I was wrong." He swept the powder off the scales with a piece of thin wood and into a bowl that he set aside.

I wandered around the shop. It was rather an interesting place, with its colored bottles, jars and sleek polished wooden counter and drawers. It also smelled divine. Matt didn't ask any more questions so I glanced back at them to see why. Mr. Pitt watched me and Matt watched him. I felt my face heat so turned back to the stack of face cream pots forming a pyramid on the table in the middle of the shop.

"Do you have any plans to replace the Cure-All?" I asked. "It was such a success that it would be a shame not to try and make something just as successful."

"It was a success because it had Jonathon's name on it," Mr. Pitt said. "He's gone and I can't use his name again."

"He's gone and so is his magic," Matt said with a sigh. "No doubt that had something to do with the Cure-All's success."

"You can assume all you want, but I don't know for certain. The only person who could tell you if he put magic in some of the Cure-All bottles is Jonathon himself. As to any plans to replace it with something else, the answer is no. You might find this hard to believe, in this day and age of businesses seeking profits at any cost, but I want to keep my operation small. I have my loyal customers and that's all I need. I don't need the fame that Jonathon craved or the profits Oakshot strives for. I just want to live a quiet, content life here, serving my customers."

"Then that makes you a unique businessman," Matt said.

"Indeed." Mr. Pitt picked up the mortar and pestle and began grinding the contents. "Did Oakshot tell you he offered to buy the shop from me?"

"You're not selling?" I asked.

"Not to anyone. What would I do with myself, Miss Steele?" He smiled but it faded quickly. "I wonder why Oakshot didn't mention it."