Fearless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 1): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series (27 page)

If she wasn’t so damn perfect, I’d throttle her.

“I have men informing all of the Suffragettes to remain with someone and indoors all evening and night. I have increased the presence of uniformed constables by one hundred and fifty percent for the twilight hours and into dark, both on suburban streets which house a Suffragette and in public locations such as parks, halls and walkways. I have assigned my top men to various activities involved in identify all those people in attendance at the deputy mayor’s speech on Monday - the inception of the crimes. I have more scouring the dockyard area, looking into the activities that occurred the evening Mary Bennett expired. And then I have myself gone over every single detail of every single crime, including post-mortem reports and eye witness accounts and the physical location of every single piece of evidence when it had been found. I am not sitting by idly while a murderer is on the loose, Miss Cassidy, and I resent your comments most vigorously.”

I was breathing far too quickly by the time I’d finished and Anna was looking up at me with big, grey eyes. But I could not tell what was going on behind that beautiful stormy colour. And I could only guess at the shock she must have felt at being spoken to in such a manner. I sucked in a harsh breath of air and went to open my mouth, intent on apologising profusely.

“Good,” she said, halting the words on my tongue. “That is a start.”

“Pardon?”

“But have you included his knowledge of chemicals and drugs, and in particular his dallying in the opium market?”

The air rushed out of me and so did my temper.

“We are aware he used opium on Miss Nelson,” I said carefully. Anna didn’t even blink. She’d distanced herself from the victims. She’d done whatever was necessary to allow her to continue to help. This woman shamed me. She could put to shame so many of my colleagues, with her aptitude and conviction and, yes, dedication to the task.

But at what cost?

I searched her face now for any hint of pain or agony. Any sign that she could not hold this weight aloft. I wanted to unburden her. Hell, I wanted to send her home under the watchful eyes of Constable Mackey, with firm instructions to hug her cousin and stay indoors. Better yet, I wanted to tie her to a chair by this very fire and watch her myself.

My eyes strayed over to the bed in the corner of the room and all manner of inappropriate thoughts trailed after.

I cleared my throat and brought my attention back to Anna. Not a hardship, but it didn’t help my wayward thoughts.

“It is not certain where he would have obtained the Laudanum he used, but we have canvassed all available apothecaries and are attempting to spot anything out of the ordinary through a very thorough process of investigation.”

“He uses it himself and not in a tincture.”

“How can you be certain?”

Anna walked over to the table and retrieved her magazine article from inside her reticule. She’d managed to avoid getting it too wet, protecting the damnable newspaper more than she’d protected herself. She returned with the magazine open to the article about Lazăr Edeleanu and his central nervous system stimulant drug. She handed me the paper, but I didn’t need to reread it.

“Anna, we can’t be sure he has taken this chemical synthetic.”

“To what else do you attribute his strength?”

“We are uncertain at this time. But just because we did not find him at the last pugilist ring, does not mean he won’t be at another.”

“And how many pugilists have you already investigated, Inspector?” She arched her brow and crossed her arms over her chest, foot tapping impatiently for my answer.

“Enough to know he has hidden himself well,” I reluctantly admitted.

“I’m telling you, Andrew, he takes this drug or one similar.”

“Do you know of one similar? This
phenyl-
whatever-it-is is relatively new.” I looked down at the article and said, “Discovered in 1887, to be precise. And most of the past three to four years has been given over to researching it further, rather than pushing it onto the market. It is not a readily available substance.”

“But to someone with a passing knowledge of science, a personal interest even, a hobby, it would be easy enough to track down.”

“An apothecary.”

“Perhaps,” she granted. “There’s no way to know tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“In time to prevent another murder.”

I shook my head. “There won’t be another murder, we have the Suffragettes completely protected.”

“No one is completely protected, Inspector. You of all people should know that.”

Damn and blast. For such a vivacious woman, she had experienced a great deal. Lost an awful lot more. Watched it torn away and never once flinched for its taking. Her father. Her mother. Her aunt and uncle. It made Anna who she is today, and yet I had never wanted anyone to have a different history than I wanted for Anna Cassidy. She deserved better memories. She deserved to be happy.

Not elbows deep in the vile filth of murderous criminals.

She was a woman, and even though I knew her to be more capable than any female I had ever met, save one, I desperately wanted Anna to be just that. A woman. Not a surgeon. Not a Suffragette. Not an icon for a self-proclaimed dedication worshipper.

Just Anna.
My
Anna.

But none of my desires would ever come true. I knew this, so I nodded my head, said nothing, and laid another log on the fire. I stared into the flames as I contemplated how to direct this.

I should have known better. Anna Cassidy would never allow herself to be handled.

“There is the opium den in Mechanics Bay. I had not heard of it before, but there it is,” she said.

“You hear of dens frequently?”

“Of course. In my line of work, it pays to know where my customers come by their ailments.”

“Through the thin end of a pipe?” I suggested.

“Among other things.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “The building is council owned,” she added, as a mere afterthought perhaps.

“I beg your pardon?” She had mentioned this fact before, but I’d failed to query how she had come by it. I wasn’t missing the opportunity to now.

“The den,” she said, lifting her hands to the crackling flames. “Near the dockyard. The one you found me outside, just prior to stumbling upon Mary Bennett.”

“That building is not owned by the council. I checked into it.”

“It’s not?” Her eyes came up to mine and genuine surprise registered there. “Then who does it belong to?”

“Why did you think it belonged to the council?” I asked, not answering her question.

“I..well… Mr Entrican. I was sure that’s what he said.”

She stared down at her fingernails as though she’d find the answer there.

“The den exists,” I said slowly. “But the building is not owned by the council. It’s owned by the mayor.”

“The mayor?”

“Yes, or rather, his family trust.”

“Oh,” she said, warming her hands again. “And does he have a son?”

I started to smile. My god, but she was magnificent.

“Yes, Anna,” I said, still smiling. “He does have a son. A strapping big one.”

“Good,” she replied simply, nodding her head.

“And he has an alibi,” I added, watching that adorable crease emerge between her brows again.

“Alibis can be fabricated, surely.”

“You’re grasping at straws, Miss Cassidy.”

“But at least the straw exists, Inspector. And the den warrants a look.”

“You sound as though you intend to do the looking,” I remarked, dreading her answer, even as I knew what it would be.

She turned towards me, grey eyes big and innocent staring up at my face with something other than adoration, but my heart refused to think on it more. She took a step closer, tipped her head to the side and offered her smile, the smile she knows I fall for every time.

“I know the ins and outs of the drug,” she said softly, her hot breath close enough to feel. “You know the ins and outs of the criminal underbelly.”

I had to work hard not to laugh.

“I think we make a fine team.”

Oh, dear sweet Anna. How much I wanted that to be true.

“You’re not going to the den,” I said, just as a robust knock sounded out on the door. We both spun to look at the offending portal simultaneously, no doubt with simultaneous looks of panic on our faces.

Good God, there was nowhere to hide her. I looked back down at Anna as the door opened under the pressure of an urgent hand, and watched as that look I’d just seen, and purposely not identified, flared behind intelligent eyes and a soft smile of welcome followed.

Calculation. That was it. Calculation. Damn, but the woman was as ever quite adaptable.

“Sergeant Blackmore,” she greeted enthusiastically. “Just in time,” she added, making my brows arch. “The inspector and I were discussing our trip to the dark den near the dockyard this evening. I assume you’re coming with?”

Blackie looked first at Anna, then swept amused eyes across the
very
small space between us to me.

“Right you are, sir,” he offered.

“Right you are, indeed,” Miss Cassidy replied, most pleased with herself.

They both looked toward me expectantly.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered. “
She is not going.
”

“And why not?” Anna asked, that determined look on her face again. “Because I’m a woman?”

I could feel a corner approach my back.

“Because you’re not a police officer,” I replied succinctly.

“But I am a surgeon,” she offered. “I have experience with this narcotic. A great deal, Inspector. More so, I’d hazard a guess, than you.”

“Anna,” I started. Pleadingly. Why would she not listen?

“It claimed my mother,” she said, voice lowered.

Blackmore stilled. I did too. Not that I hadn’t been aware of the cause of Mrs Cassidy’s death. But Anna never spoke of it, even to me. And now she brings it up in front of Blackie?

“It is to blame for Margaret and Mary’s deaths,” she added. “For our darling Helen’s as well. It has caused so much grief already, Inspector. Have I not earned my uniform? Have I not proved my worth? For what did my father train me? If not to chase the piper and make him pay.”

I stared at her, aware Blackmore was watching on with silent intrigue. How did I deny her this? Deny Thomas this? When every word she spoke was absolute truth.

How did I protect her from this?

When Anna Cassidy asked no man for protection she was not prepared to offer herself.

She waited patiently for my verdict, as though she’d heed my directive once given. I doubted that, but I couldn’t be sure. Anna could play the part of a lady if she so chose. I just didn’t see her adhering to that concept today.

She wanted to go. For Margaret Thorley and Mary Bennett. For Helen Nelson and her cousin Wilhelmina the most. But also for her mother, her father, herself.

And how could I deny this woman that?

I couldn’t, even though I should. I couldn’t, because I could deny Anna nothing.

Except myself.

“Chalmers must not hear of this,” I announced, and watched as Blackie smiled and Anna beamed and all I could see was an approaching darkness.

God forgive me. But I could deny her nothing, it seemed.

Except myself.

Twenty-Four

Not I

Anna

The den was not what I had expected. I’d visited opium rooms before on Grey Street, in Chinatown itself, where the buildings were rundown and the wind whistled through the gaps in the sidings. Mildew gathered in corners and smoke had darkened the ceilings to an orange-brown. Grime provided shelter from street illumination on the windows and the scattered cushions, where those who had partaken of a pipe lay reclined, were frayed and soiled.

No one seemed to care. Least of all my mother. I was told it hadn’t always been that way, perhaps it had started out looking somewhat like the den we walked into now. Painted ceilings depicting clouds with angels holding harps, moulded architraves, and marble looking statues. Chaise longues and silk cushions, velvet curtains tied back with tasselled ropes. Wall hangings in subdued but intricate colours, soft music playing in the background, a leafy plant in one corner, a bird in a gilded cage in another.

The comparison astounded, my heart breaking open along old wounds.

“Greetings,” an obsequious Chinese man said, head bowed low, long pointing whiskers scraping his knees, his soft soled boots making no sound as he lightly stepped from foot to foot. “We have finest opium. Guarantee satisfaction. Or perhaps, the lady would like Indian hemp. We have perfect selection for you. Yes?”

Even though the proprietor was Chinese, his customers were all European. If his countrymen or the natives favoured this recreational drug, then they consumed it elsewhere. This den had been designed with Colonialists in mind. Every gentleman wore a frock coat with well pressed trousers, a waistcoat with a high collared shirt. Their cravats, on more than one, rivalled even Mr Entrican’s in lavish style.