Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(164)

“I have to agree,” Fisher allowed. “He does not possess his father’s nor his grandmother’s intelligence. Eddy is, in fact, quite dull. Collars and Cuffs will not be an excellent ruler.”

“We get the monarchy we deserve,” Keats chided. “If the line had continued through the Scots—”

“Keats!” Fisher scolded.

“It’s the truth, sir. The Germans are, well—”

“Not English,” Ramsey finished.



Fisher chortled. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen both of you agree on a subject.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t last,” Keats assured him. “Not once I begin accepting cases the Yard can’t solve.”

Ramsey eyed him. “Just mind you don’t get in our way, mister.”

“Oh, I’m sure I shall on more than one occasion,” Keats chirped brightly, “if nothing more than to get up your nose, Chief Inspector. How else will I amuse myself?”

“Ah, good, that’s more like it,” Fisher exclaimed. “I had thought the world was coming to an end.” He gave Alastair a concerned look. “You’re very quiet, Doctor.”

Alastair’s eyes caught Keats’. “A bit too much whiskey, I think.”

Once they were alone, and ensconced in Alastair’s parlor, Keats broached the subject. “So what’s bothering you?” he asked, polishing his medal on a sleeve for the second time, obviously proud of his achievement. “You were pretty quiet on the return journey.”

Instead of answering, Alastair slit open his envelope. “Seventy-five quid. Very nice.”

Keats checked his. “The same. That’ll help with expenses.” He put away the check. “What was going on at Sandringham?” he pressed.

“There was one of us en mirage with the prince.”

Keats’ eyes snapped up. “Which one?”

“I’m not sure. Could have been one of the servants for all I know.”

Keats slumped back in his chair. “A shifter in the royal household. Where else are they?”

“I would expect us to be everywhere,” Alastair said.

“As you say.”

“I’m curious—where is Flaherty now? Has he gone back to Ireland?”

“He’s out of the country. Left rather suddenly,” Keats replied. “Clancy Moran, as well. They seem to have come into a bit of money and decided to start over in America.”



Alastair eyed his friend. “Did you have a hand in that?”

“Yes.” Keats smiled. “Aiding and abetting anarchists. How far the mighty have fallen.”

The doctor nodded his approval. “Well done, my friend.”

Keats sighed. “Despite everything, Flaherty was still going to blow up the Crystal Palace. He’d heard about that Irish girl who was murdered in Whitechapel, and thought it was his daughter. He believed his enemies had gotten their revenge.”

“What kept him from doing it?”

“Someone told him it was Mary Kelly who died. He said he knew her, that they’d been together a couple of times.”

Alastair shook his head. “I don’t know if I ever met her. I might have, at the clinic. I saw so many.”

Keats sighed. “I liked Mary. I’d give her money every now and then. She was a nice sort. I didn’t know she’d seen me that night in Whitechapel.”

“What?” Alastair asked, puzzled.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you knew that. She came forward, after the trial,” Keats explained. “According to Kingsbury, she made her statement right before the case was reviewed by the Lord Chief Justice.”

“That was risky for her.”

Keats shook his head. “The Irish wouldn’t hurt her. Flaherty spread the word that she wasn’t to be harmed.”

“Then it was the Ripper,” Alastair replied. “I had hoped we’d see no more of him.”

“I’m not so sure it was his handiwork,” Keats said.

Alastair cocked his head. “Who then?”

“I know this is going to sound outlandish, but I think her murder was retribution, a message, as it were. You cross us, we’ll destroy you. They couldn’t get to Paddy, so they came after her.”

“Good Lord,” Alastair exclaimed. “What a horrifying thought.”

“Perhaps someday, my friend, we’ll know the truth of all of this,” Keats said, rousing himself from his melancholy. “But first, I must find new lodgings. My dear landlady is pleased at my acquittal, but uncomfortable with my presence. I can’t blame her what with all the notoriety. Any suggestions for my next abode?”



“Well, Annabelle’s Boarding House is quite reasonable and the food is hearty, but you are accustomed to more space than she offers.” Alastair thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “I have the perfect place.”

“Where? Is it near here?” Keats asked.

“Very,” Alastair replied, beaming. He pointed upward. “It’s the room you’re in right now. You can pay me what you feel it is worth. Mrs. Butler will see your laundry is done and cook your meals as needed.”

Keats shook his head immediately. “No need to trouble yourself. I can find another place.”