The Lost Apothecary(71)
In the corner of my vision, Eliza nodded. I moved closer to her, as a final, invisible goodbye.
We did not make it but twenty steps before I saw them: three constables wearing dark blue coats, walking straight toward us, their faces grim. One of them carried a rod in his hand, as though the shadows of the alley scared him, and I could faintly make out a scar across his left cheek.
Eliza must have seen the men at the same time—for, without speaking a word or exchanging a glance, we began to run. Together we instinctively headed south toward the river, away from them, our sharp breaths in harmony with one another.
28
Caroline
Present day, Wednesday
As the officer unlatched the handcuffs from his belt, a cell phone rang from somewhere in the small room. I remained frozen, waiting for one of the officers to answer it, then the hazy disorientation cleared from my brain; the phone ringing was mine.
“It might be about James,” I said, lunging for my purse, not caring if the officers tried to slap the cuffs on me before I could answer it. “Please, let me take it.” I put the phone to my ear, bracing for the worst. “Hello?”
On the other end of the line was a cheery, if not slightly concerned, voice. “Caroline, hey, it’s Gaynor. I’m just calling to check on things. Is your husband doing okay?”
God, what a dear she was. If only the timing wasn’t so terrible. The lead officer watched me closely, bouncing his foot lightly on his knee. “Hi, Gaynor,” I replied, my voice stiff. “Things are okay. I have—” I paused, aware that my every word was being closely monitored, maybe even recorded. “I’m dealing with a situation right now, but I promise I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
I gazed at the nearest officer, the one with handcuffs out and ready. My eyes fell on his badge affixed to his left hip: a sign of his position, his authority. Suddenly, like a rush of fresh air in the room, it dawned on me that Gaynor’s position at the library might work in my favor.
“Actually, Gaynor...” I pushed the phone harder to my ear “...perhaps you could help me with something.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Anything.”
“I’m at St. Bartholomew’s,” I told her, drawing an odd look from the officers.
“The hospital? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m on the third floor, near the critical care unit. Could you possibly make your way over here? It’s quite a long story, but I’ll explain when I can.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll head that way in a few.”
My shoulders sagged with relief. “The woman on the phone is a colleague and friend,” I told the officers after I’d hung up the phone. “She works at the British Library, and she’s been helping with my research. Whether you decide to arrest me or not, I hope you’ll hear what she has to say first.”
The men glanced at each other, and the one across from me made another note in his book. After a few minutes, he checked his wristwatch and drummed three fingers on the table.
It was a last-ditch effort. Gaynor had no knowledge that I’d broken into the apothecary’s shop or snapped pictures of the register, and at no point in our research together did we take notes on things like opium, tobacco or arsenic. I prayed the officers wouldn’t show her the notebook, but I had to accept the risk. I’d rather come clean with Gaynor than get arrested for something I didn’t do.
Eventually, one of the officers found Gaynor in the waiting area; she stepped into the small room with a terrified look on her face, probably thinking the presence of officers signified that something tragic had happened to James. I hadn’t meant to cause her such alarm, but it would be impossible now to share any private words with her.
“Hi,” she said upon seeing me. “What’s going on? Are you all right? Is your husband okay?”
“Why don’t you have a seat with us,” the lead officer stated.
He motioned to an extra chair, and Gaynor lowered herself into it, clutching her purse closely to her side. Her eyes fell on my notebook, but it was far enough across the table that I thought it unlikely she could read anything on its pages.
“We were about to bring Ms. Parcewell to the station for further questioning,” the officer explained, “regarding a harmful substance her husband ingested earlier today, and some unusual notes we found in her notebook, possibly related to the incident.”
I shook my head, my courage strengthened now that Gaynor sat close to me. “No, not related, as I said.”
Gaynor moved her hand toward me, as though reaching for my own—whether to comfort herself or me, I wasn’t sure.
The officer leaned toward Gaynor, his hot, tobacco-tainted breath wafting across the table. “Ms. Parcewell said you may be able to explain some things for us.” At this, Gaynor’s demeanor changed in an instant; whereas a moment ago, she seemed to pity me, now her shoulders stiffened defensively. “We understand you work at the British Library?”
Gaynor’s eyes darted at me. “What does this have to do with my job?”
At once, remorse wrapped around my throat. I’d asked Gaynor to come to the hospital because I needed help—I needed saving. Now I realized the foolishness in it; I’d dragged someone else into my mess. God forbid Gaynor thought I tricked her into this. She hadn’t done a single thing wrong, and yet now I’d maneuvered her into sitting next to me as I was questioned by two police officers.