Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #1)(54)
Thomas watched as I smeared the substance on litmus paper. “The dropper is in the top drawer under a stack of papers on the left.”
I followed his instructions and found it easily. I put a drop of liquid onto the paper and watched it turn deep blue. “It’s definitely an opiate of some sort.”
“They’re probably giving it to him in near pure form,” he said, pacing in front of the desk. “If they’re really moving his trial so quickly, they’ll want him as mad-looking as possible. Most elixirs cause hallucinations, which explains his state. Unfortunately, that’s not all that uncommon. Could be standard pretrial procedure.”
He stopped only long enough to glance at me. “You’re positive Blackburn can be trusted? What do you know of him?”
I knew the policeman from only a few unpleasant encounters and wasn’t positive about anything. “I think he feels guilty Uncle’s in this mess. And I believe he’s trying to make up for arresting him by involving me in the case.”
“Feeling guilt does not make for a solid basis of trust. If anything, it makes me trust him less.” He narrowed his eyes, stalking over to me. “Why has he shown such an interest in your family? If you weren’t so taken with him, you’d be more skeptical of his motives. A lot can be hidden beneath a boyish grin.”
“I am not taken with anyone.”
“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to one another,” he said quietly, then turned away before I could read the expression on his face. “Someone’s keen on having your uncle swing for these crimes, Audrey Rose. Let’s assume the worst about Blackburn. Everyone must remain a suspect until proven otherwise.”
“Should I be wary of even you, Mr. Cresswell?”
Thomas stood before me, all traces of humor gone from his expression. “Yes. It would behoove you to stay on alert at all times. Even with respect to those closest to you.”
And I thought I was an alarmist. Thomas walked over to a cabinet, pulling two white aprons from within.
I pushed the chemistry set aside, thinking wretched things. “If there’s another murder between now and the thirtieth they’ll have to set him free. Won’t they?” I picked at a thread on my bodice, not wanting to look up. “I mean, surely they wouldn’t try him for these crimes if another one occurred while he was in the asylum.”
Thomas’s attention snagged onto mine. “Are you suggesting we stage a murder, Wadsworth? Are you planning on doing the slashing, or should I handle that part?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I only mean there’s always a possibility another body will turn up. I can’t believe our murderer will simply give up and quietly fade into the night. You’ve said so yourself.”
Thomas considered this for a few moments. “I suppose. But if we’re betting on that theory, then it’s also possible I’ll invent a sky-traveling steamship before the week’s out.”
“Are you even trying to build a flying steamship?”
“Absolutely not,” he said with an impish grin, grabbing a scalpel from the examination table and handing it to me along with an apron. “You said it yourself, anything’s possible.” He nodded toward the subject. “Let’s get on with this. We’ve got to return the body by dawn and I’d like to harvest the gallbladder first.”
Without hesitation, I split the skin wide with my blade, earning an appreciative whistle from Thomas.
NINETEEN
DEAR BOSS
CENTRAL NEWS AGENCY,
LONDON
27 SEPTEMBER 1888
The sound of typewriters clicking away to the beat of a hundred fingers greeted Thomas and me as we followed Superintendent Blackburn into the busy news agency. Most all of their stories were “sensationalized lies and slander charges waiting to happen,” according to my brother. I didn’t disagree.
Blackburn had found me locked away in Uncle’s laboratory, poring over murder details and evidence being used against Uncle, and insisted I see the latest horror for myself.
Blackburn wasn’t eager for Thomas’s company, but I convinced him his expertise was very much needed. Thomas would likely spot any detail overlooked, and that’s precisely what Uncle needed. Blackburn eventually gave in.
Liza had assisted in fabricating excuses to leave the house, telling her mother we were in desperate need of shopping excursions. Aunt Amelia was thrilled to have me doing “appropriate girl things” and sent us out, humming to herself. I suspected my cousin was willing to help because it afforded her time to sneak away to the park with her newest love interest. Regardless of her motives, I was grateful for her presence and would miss her when they returned to the country.
Anxiety twisted through my limbs. Blackburn wasn’t a man of many words, so he didn’t spare much on the carriage ride over. All I knew was something came up that could potentially raise doubts about Uncle’s guilt or set the noose around his neck for good.
Thomas might not trust Blackburn, but I was desperate enough to take any assistance we could get, even if it meant following the person who’d originally put my uncle in the asylum to the depths of Hell.
We walked by several desks with reporters writing and excitedly chatting over the day’s news. A palpable buzz could be felt like electricity running through Edison bulbs.