From This Moment (20 page)

10

R
omulus belonged to the Boston Athletic Club not only because of its location across the street from
Scientific World
, but because its membership included hundreds of men from the corporate, academic, and governing elite. Only the well-to-do could afford membership, but on any given day, the club offered a priceless opportunity to mingle with the influential men who made this city operate. Rooms were set aside for fencing, billiards, and bowling. A steam room, barber shop, and a smoking lounge were all heavily used, but Romulus always went straight for the boxing ring. Boxing was a sport he’d practiced ever since college. The competitive drive to match his strength, speed, and agility against another man’s was an addiction he indulged to this day.

But today he wasn’t here to box. Pacing on the tiled floor in the foyer, he waited for Michael Townsend, his regular Tuesday morning sparring partner, to arrive. A few men he knew wandered in and headed to the changing room. Romulus nodded grimly, wondering if rumor of what had happened to him was already beginning to circulate. It wouldn’t take long for news
of the injunction against
Scientific World
to spread like wildfire through parched savannah plains. Miraculously, it seemed no one knew anything yet, with men offering their normal greetings and nods as they entered.

Romulus swallowed hard. Unless he could get this injunction lifted, soon those pleasant greetings would be replaced by sidelong glances, suspicious looks, and pity. He kept his hands fisted in his pockets, probably ruining the line of his trousers, but hiding the white knuckles and tension in every line of his body.

At precisely nine o’clock, Michael strode through the door, a pair of boxing gloves dangling from his hands. “You haven’t changed?”

“I’m not sparring today,” he replied. “I wanted to speak with you about something privately.”

Michael nodded. “I had a feeling you might,” he said, a trace of unease on his distinguished face. “Let’s head back to the restaurant. I doubt anyone will be there at this hour.”

The club’s restaurant was dark and empty, but the door was unlocked, so they headed toward the mahogany bar along the back wall of the room. Potted palm trees and hanging chandeliers loomed in the dim interior. It was a gray and drizzly day, but weak light filtered in through the window blinds.

“So you’ve heard about the injunction against my magazine?”

“I’ve heard,” Michael confirmed.

“Who is behind it?”

“Someone filed at the Superior Court. I don’t know who.”

“But you know
why
. And don’t tell me it has anything to do with electricity, because those articles were vetted, and they are all aboveboard.” Romulus was fishing, but given the way Michael shifted his weight and kept glancing away, the attorney knew plenty.

“Yes, it is about electricity,” Michael said. “Although that’s
not all. In the past year, the magazine has published other articles that may not be safe. You’ve written laudatory articles about x-ray technology, and it is known that x-rays can cause radiation poisoning. There are also concerns about articles on vaccination.”

Anger began to simmer. Scientific innovation often came along with risk, but most people understood that the potential benefits usually outweighed the danger. “So if I discredit the concerns about electricity, I can expect more injunctions? Who is behind this?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said again. “I gather a hearing has been scheduled, and both sides will have a chance to air their concerns in due time.”

“And how am I supposed to pay forty employees next week? Or collect revenue from my advertisers when I know I won’t be circulating an issue this month?”

“Romulus, this is a matter of public safety.”

“We’ve been publishing this magazine for almost ten years. We’ve built a reputation for quality scientific information that some anonymous troublemaker is trying to tear down. And you expect me to sit still for that?”

Michael turned away, bracing his hands on the back of a chair and staring out the window, his gaze troubled. “There’s more to it than just the articles.”

“I suspected as much.”

“There is some gossip calling your judgment into question. Rumor has it you have been running around town with an unstable woman, causing a ruckus in the police department and the medical examiner’s office.”

Romulus felt the blood drain from his face. “This is unbelievable.”

“Nevertheless. People have always been willing to grant you
leeway despite some of your eccentricities, but Stella West is rubbing people the wrong way. It calls your good sense into question. Apparently she just filed a report to have Dr. Lentz fired because she disagreed with one of his findings. She has also asked for her sister’s body to be exhumed for another autopsy in hope of discrediting Dr. Lentz. It’s all very unseemly.”

Romulus rocked back on his heels. It was hard to believe that even Stella would ask for something so appalling, but hadn’t she told him that it “wouldn’t end here”? Now her wild-eyed accusations were reaching out to taint him, as well.

“I barely know Stella West,” he growled.

“But you’ve been seen escorting her around town while she throws daggers at people. It hasn’t shown you in a good light.” The concern lifted from Michael’s face as he clapped Romulus on the shoulder. “It’s all merely a tempest in a teapot. Don’t worry too much. This will all blow over soon. Just let the process work.”

“And how am I to pay my bills in the meantime? My employees depend on me.” Roy Tanner’s scarred, gentle face rose in his mind. That man and his entire family depended on Romulus being able to pay him on Friday. They could make payroll this week, but what about next Friday? And what if their advertisers started pulling their business?

“How can I find out who is behind these accusations?” he ground out from behind clenched teeth. “I need your help.”

“Show up at the Suffolk County Superior Court in three weeks,” Michael said. “I don’t have any influence to speed up the process, nor can I look into locked files to gather confidential information. Please don’t ask again.”

Romulus looked away. Michael Townsend’s reputation for honesty was well known, and he wasn’t going to risk it over a magazine.

“I hope you’ll understand my need to cancel our sparring appointment this morning,” Romulus said as he reached out to shake Michael’s hand. “Next week, perhaps.” He could only pray to have found a way out of this quagmire by then.

“I’ll look forward to it.” Michael’s tone was understanding, which only made Romulus feel worse. The pity was beginning.

Stella arrived at
Scientific World
early. She dreaded the prospect of arranging a second autopsy on Gwendolyn’s body, but this was something that couldn’t wait for more evidence or the chance that A.G. would miraculously appear and solve all the riddles. Every additional day that passed made a second autopsy more problematic, but it was her best chance to discover if Dr. Lentz had botched the original examination. Romulus ought to have a copy of the original postmortem by now, and he would help her get things rolling.

Never in her life had she felt so comforted as when he’d held her on the streetcar while she’d blubbered like an infant. He looked flashy and flamboyant on the outside, but in those few moments, she’d witnessed a tenderness that took her breath away. She needed a bit of that comfort now. She hadn’t slept since the early-morning invasion by the police officers, and she was desperate for a chance to soak up Romulus’s effortless humor.

He was not in the office, but Evelyn was at her desk. Which was disappointing. Evelyn seemed so frosty, with a reserved, almost queenly demeanor. To Stella’s surprise, Evelyn invited her to take a seat beside her desk for a chat.

“I’m eager to know how a woman found a foothold in the London publishing industry,” she said. And since there was nothing Stella liked better than talking art and publishing, the two of them had a fascinating hour trading information on
women in business, high-speed printing machinery, and rates of compensation.

“Wasn’t it scary?” Evelyn asked. “Moving to another country where you had no one to lean on?”

Her parents had accompanied her to London, but after a month, she was on her own. It hadn’t been scary, it had been exhilarating. London was a city that found room amid its royal palaces and stiff reserve for flamboyant artists and poets. It was a city where, on any street corner, she could witness layers of British history from the Romans all the way up to Charles Dickens. No, she had never been frightened in London.

She winced at the memory of two Boston police officers invading her room.

Evelyn noticed. “What?” she prompted.

She tried a smile. All morning, Stella had been trying to recast the incident in a less ominous light, hoping it would lose its power to frighten her. And yet, when she told Evelyn what had happened, the effect was precisely the opposite.

“How did they get in?” Evelyn asked. “Isn’t your boardinghouse locked after hours?”

The front door was locked each night at ten o’clock, and Mr. Zhekova warned all his boarders that if they weren’t home by that hour, they could expect to sleep on the front stoop. And yet that locked door hadn’t provided any protection against the police.

“I guess my landlord must have let them in.” It was an unsettling thought. Ever since the incident with the bees in her mailbox, Mr. Zhekova had grown increasingly suspicious of her.

“You are welcome to stay at my townhouse,” Evelyn said. “I live on Hanover Street and have plenty of room. It’s only me, my housekeeper, and her two children.”

“I couldn’t impose on you like that—”

“Nonsense,” Evelyn said. “We professional ladies must band together, if only until you get to the bottom of what happened with the police. If women don’t band together, we’ll fall beneath the stampede of men.”

Stella had never felt trampled on by men. In London, she laughingly mingled with dozens of male colleagues and never sensed hostility. But this wasn’t London, and nothing had been easy since she’d come to Boston. The companionship Evelyn offered seemed like a safe harbor in a storm. “I’d be grateful for your hospitality,” she said, and Evelyn beamed in reply.

“I hope you like little children. Miss Delaney has two, both under the age of three. They are delightful—but can sometimes be a trial.”

“Miss Delaney? Is she your housekeeper?” Stella hoped she didn’t sound critical, but wouldn’t a woman with two children be a
missus
rather than a
miss
?

A bit of humor faded from Evelyn. “Miss Delaney falls into the category of women needing to stick together. Her fiancé was in the navy. She eventually learned he already had a wife in Richmond, but by then . . . well, by then she had a baby and another on the way. I hope that won’t be a problem for you.”

It seemed that Stella was unpeeling layers of kindness hidden beneath Evelyn’s frosty demeanor. “No, it won’t be a problem.” She was in no position to throw the first stone. Ever since Gwendolyn’s death, she’d been consumed with a driving anger that blotted out the finer aspects of Christian charity. Perhaps it was time she tried a little harder in that area.

As they waited for Romulus to return, Evelyn filled her in on her housekeeper and the two children. She’d found Bridget Delaney living in a poorhouse, seven months pregnant and on the verge of having her two-year-old son seized by authorities at a state-run orphanage.

“That little boy had these huge, liquid eyes that just broke my heart,” Evelyn said. “The way he looked at his mother . . . well, I’ve never seen so much love distilled into a single look, and I couldn’t bear the thought of having him torn from his mother to be raised by strangers. They moved into my home that very day and have been with me ever since.”

Evelyn proudly showed her the photograph of two children she kept on her desk. The boy looked about three years old, and his arm was around a little girl barely old enough to stand.

“I have to confess to entirely selfish motives,” Evelyn continued. “I don’t have any children of my own, and the thought of being able to help Bridget with the newborn appealed to me. For the first few months, I was more Bridget’s housekeeper than the other way around, but now things have settled into a nice arrangement. I think of Bridget and the babies as family.”

And the photographs of the children on Evelyn’s desk certainly attested to that. But what was taking Romulus so long? When she asked, Evelyn filled her in on the strange injunction that had been filed against the magazine.

“He’s meeting with the state’s attorney as we speak. I’m sure they will be able to sort everything out.” But Evelyn didn’t look certain as she drew a long sip of tea.

Stella shifted uneasily. This was probably the worst day she could have chosen to come looking for that autopsy report, but she needed it, and as Evelyn had said, surely Romulus would have been able to draw on his vaunted connections to solve this silly injunction by now.