Lady of Ashes (42 page)

The minister was feeling generous today. Maybe if Sam shared what was happening, Adams would reconsider his involvement. It was worth a try. Of course, Sam was visiting Morgan Undertaking with regularity each afternoon, so Violet was probably expecting him, but surely she wouldn’t mind if he was late. In fact, he’d visit her home later in the evening, just to check on her.

“I guess it would be to my own gastric detriment to say no to clam chowder.”

“That’s settled, then.” Adams reached for a bell pull, summoning a servant to let him know to make one extra place for dinner.

 

Finished with her survey of the lions’ den interior, Violet stepped outside in order to walk around the exterior of the building. There was a single, locked zookeeper access door at the rear of the building. A large, stuffed canvas bag marked “Deer—Killed Tuesday” was propped against it. Did the lions have a two o’clock feeding time? Would a zookeeper’s arrival scare off Susanna’s kidnapper?

Almost half past one. Where was Sam? She needed to finish exploring the area surrounding the lions’ den. She resumed her walk along the zoo path, coming to an enclosure of peacocks, both females with their dull markings and males strutting about with their bright plumage on display. One of the males emitted a bloodcurdling shriek that so unnerved Violet, already tense from the situation, that she jumped back and dropped her bag. She bent over to pick it up and, when she rose again, saw a vaguely familiar woman approaching from the opposite direction. Violet frowned. Where had she seen her before? The woman noticed Violet’s stare and slowed in recognition, as well.

“Mrs. . . . Morgan, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes, but forgive me, I can’t quite place you . . .”

“I’m Mrs. Barrett. We were in the Clayton Tunnel crash together.”

Ah, of course. The widow Violet suspected was merely an abused wife. Mrs. Barrett looked much healthier and happier than she had on the train.

“I’m glad to see you survived. I wondered about it when we didn’t see you again.”

“We? I take it your daughter is well, too?”

“Yes, thanks be to God she had no real injuries. As for me . . .” Violet held up her arm, unbuttoned her cuff, and pushed up the sleeve.

“Ah, how terrible for you. I should very much enjoy a chat together. Care to join me for some tea at the refreshment stand?”

Violet glanced in the direction of the lions’ den. “I’m afraid I don’t have time today. I have another engagement shortly.”

“Surely you can spare a few minutes. I would think it highly unlikely that we would so fortuitously run into each other again.”

Perhaps a hot cup of tea would strengthen Violet’s innards for what lay ahead. Besides, Sam had not yet arrived in response to her note, and it was best to have him here for the confrontation to follow.

“A few minutes, then.”

They walked back to the refreshment stand. Violet selected a table while Mrs. Barrett ordered steaming cups of tea and brought them back on a tray with sugar cubes, cream, and a couple of pastries.

“I thought you might like something besides your tea,” Mrs. Barrett said.

“How very kind of you. Tell me, how are you getting on in your position as—a housekeeper, I believe it was?”

“I’m afraid that particular employment terminated rather early.”

Violet selected two sugar cubes with a pair of tongs and dropped them into her tea. The cubes were large and plopped noisily into the cup, splashing some of her tea over the side of the cup and saucer to leave a dark stain on the white tablecloth.

Except it wasn’t a dark stain on the white tablecloth. It was the brown wood of the table appearing from beneath the tablecloth as the fabric was unbelievably eaten away before Violet’s eyes.

“G
ood Lord in heaven,” Violet said, looking up at Mrs. Barrett.

A triumphant smile played upon the woman’s lips. “Drink up, dear, this tonic is good for you. It’s what I give all of my sick patients.”

Violet emptied the cup onto the ground and listened to it hiss in protest as it soaked into the gravel.

“Hmm, how very ungrateful you are of my hospitality, Mrs. Morgan.”

“I suspect there have been many ungrateful victims of your particular style of hospitality, Mrs. Barrett. At least now I understand how they ended up with holes in their skin and bedclothes. What, pray tell, do you use?”

“It depends. If they are in season, I pulverize the seeds of the colchicum flower. Otherwise, I go to the chemist for some sulfuric acid. Just a bit of either in tea or tonic works nearly instantly.”

“But . . . why?”

“Oh, a variety of reasons. For example, let’s take you. You’ve been my greatest find to date because you are the first living being to even catch a whiff of what I was doing. I was almost relieved, I must say, to discover someone with nearly as much wit and daring as my own.”

“Where is Susanna?” Violet asked through clenched teeth.

“Yet I’ve been growing steadily dissatisfied with your performance, little undertaker, and the girl is giving me constant pain—like a dull hypodermic syringe that never pierces the skin. She either stares at me sullenly as though she knows all about me, or else it’s endless complaining and carping about what’s to happen to me when her mother finds me. So now her mother has uncovered me.” Mrs. Barrett leaned forward. “What do you plan to do?”

Violet’s mind was whirling. Susanna’s kidnapper—and the murderess of at least two people in London—was an innocuous woman with whom she shared a train ride? Inconceivable.

Violet looked around at the other patrons seated near them. Where was Sam?

“If you’re considering some silly cry for help, I’m afraid I must advise against it. Your little Susanna is safely tucked away for the moment, but if you do something foolish, you can be sure that her situation will become more perilous. Lions are unpredictable, you know.”

Keep calm, Violet. Talk to the woman, see if you can get her to admit where she’s keeping Susanna. Sam, where
are
you?

“I understand,” Violet said, casting her eyes down, hoping she looked contrite. “You must understand that I am quite shocked to find that the one I’ve been seeking, who had the nerve to poison at least two people and then turn around and spirit my daughter away from under my nose, is a woman. A woman I hardly know.”

Violet picked up her bag from the ground. How easily could she slip her hand inside and grab her knife?

“I knew it would shock you. But from the day of our train ride together, I knew something had to be done.”

“Don’t you mean from the time I witnessed the horrific crime you committed against Mrs. Atkinson?”

Mrs. Barrett smiled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, my dear. You initially had no idea what you were witnessing. No, from the moment I saw you with the little brat, I knew there would be trouble.”

“With Susanna? I don’t understand. How could a thirteen-year-old girl be cause for trouble for you?”

“She never told you? Well, she was sleeping most of the time on the train, wasn’t she? That little urchin you refer to as ‘daughter’ nearly ran me aground once. I accepted a position as nurse to her mother, who was ill with consumption. I wanted that job because during my interview I could see the family had some nice pieces of art, despite their rather low standing. Inherited pieces from her great-grandmother, she said. But Mrs. Sweeney simply dragged on too long in her illness, creating entirely too much work for me. The art stash wasn’t worth it. I also wasn’t getting anywhere in convincing Mrs. Sweeney to write me into her will.

“But your precious little girl saw me administer the final tonic to her mother. Mrs. Sweeney unfortunately choked a bit of it up—I do have to constantly adjust my dosing depending upon what base I’m using—and Susanna saw it. She ran out of the house before I could catch her, but it did give me a chance to change the bedclothes and pack up what I wanted before anyone returned. The woman had been sick, so no one believed a stupid girl’s preposterous story.”

“Are you saying you murdered Susanna’s mother for a few trinkets?”

“No, silly. Honestly, I bare my soul and you hardly listen. It was because of the great and terrible burden that was placed upon me by foisting a lingering invalid on me without appropriate . . . recompense. I could hardly be expected to do otherwise, now could I?”

How had Susanna survived in the clutches of this monster? How brave she was. Yet none of this made any sense.

“Mrs. Barrett,” Violet said carefully. “I’m still a bit baffled.”

“Naturally. You aren’t quite as clever as I am.”

“Naturally. I met you on a train from Brighton to London. You said you were recently widowed. Yet it was earlier in London that you wreaked havoc on the Sweeney family.”

“I’m not permitted a husband, is that it? I’m not permitted to move about the country, either? Jimmy Dixon and I ended up in Brighton after I met and married him. No crime in that, is there?”

“No, no crime in
that
.”

“He beat me one time too often is all, as he learned to his own detriment. You should have seen the dramatic show I put on for the doctor to avoid an autopsy, telling him how poor Jimmy had a fear of being cut up and mutilated after death. Then I found out Jimmy hadn’t paid rent in nearly two months, and our landlady was a little overly insistent about it. Really, people can be quite a nuisance sometimes.”

“So you lied when you said you had a housekeeper’s position arranged through a friend.”

Mrs. Barrett shook her head. “I most certainly did not. How dare you accuse me of lying? Mrs. Atkinson was a friend of mine from long ago. When she heard that my dear husband died unexpectedly, she invited me to stay with her, to recover from my grief.” Mrs. Barrett sighed. “But she asked me too many impertinent questions.”

“I suppose Mr. Young was another friend who inquired too often.”

“Honestly, dearest, are you not following anything I’m saying to you?” Mrs. Barrett shook her head. “No, Mr. Young was quite well off and needed a nurse in his infirmity. I suited his desire for a mature, middle-aged woman to look after him. His son wasn’t particularly attentive, and it was a simple thing to so engage the man’s mind so that he revised his will for me.”

“Wait. You were the nurse who was sent to find Dr. Beasley?”

“Yes, another dolt who was very easy to convince to skip an autopsy since, I, as Mr. Young’s nurse, had been tending to his illness and could certify that he had definitely died from it. Medical men are too busy to be that bothered with an old man’s death. Yet for some reason a mere undertaker was focusing on what the doctor could be convinced was simply the illness.”

“Mrs. Barrett, you are despicable. And vile. And evil.”

“Yes, yes, Mrs. Morgan, your outrage is admirable. However, I’ll take great delight in showing you Susanna before I dispose of you both. After all, you two are the only impediments to my future. It has been most enjoyable playing with you, Mrs. Morgan. Now come along.”

Mrs. Barrett rose, signaling for Violet to join her. Violet obeyed—what choice did she have? They walked over the crunching gravel back to the lions’ den.

Whereas just a few minutes earlier, Violet had been inspecting the lions’ den for an opportunity to catch Susanna’s kidnapper unawares, now she was returning as though it was her execution site.

She stopped and asked a question, hoping to delay Mrs. Barrett long enough to give Violet time to formulate a plan. “You didn’t tell me how you were able to convince Susanna to open the door to you. What did you do?”

“I didn’t need to convince anybody. I know plenty about how to get into a house when the master or mistress isn’t home. I’ve broken into many a place where I was working. Your house required almost no effort at all. Now move along; we’re wasting the best part of the day.”

They came to the entrance of the lions’ quarters. The entry door was shut, with a sign reading “Closed for Feeding” on it.

“I knew you’d understand the humor,” Mrs. Barrett said.

When Violet didn’t respond, Mrs. Barrett grabbed her arm and shook it. “I said, isn’t it amusing? ‘Closed for Feeding’? Meaning for feeding Susanna to them.”

“What?” Violet wrenched her arm away, bewildered, wondering what horrific scene Mrs. Barrett had planned for her inside the den.
If Susanna is hurt—or worse—so help me, I’ll . . .

Mrs. Barrett put her hand on the door’s handle and stopped. “You should be flattered, Mrs. Morgan. I’ve gone to great lengths this time to do something unique and spectacular for you. I would never have let you drink that tea, not when I have so much more planned for you. You can drink your tonic later.”

“I’ll kill you first.”

Mrs. Barrett laughed, a jagged and uneven sound, as though she was unpracticed at it. “My dearest, no one has ever gotten to me first, nor is it likely that you will do so. Now, are you ready for your grand surprise?”

Violet could never be ready. She held her breath.

Mrs. Barrett threw the door open and stepped back to allow Violet in. At first, Violet saw nothing unusual, just the pride sitting together, staring collectively at something in the far side of the cage.

Where was the male?

She moved farther in and heard Mrs. Barrett closing the door behind them. It slammed shut with the finality of a coffin ready for burial.

Would the lion house become Violet’s own tomb?

A movement in a far corner of the enclosure caught Violet’s attention. She ran to the railing, dropping her bag as she gripped the bars in both hands and tried to see what was in the darkened recess of the lions’ living area, which must be what also had the females in a rapt state.

The male was there, his swishing tail facing Violet as he bent his head down, gnawing at what appeared to be a leg. Following the movement of his mane, she saw what he was consuming. At his feet lay a mangled scrap of cloth intertwined with . . . with . . .

“No!” she yelled instinctively, before the scene in front of her could fully register in her mind. In response to her shout, which reverberated against the walls of the den, the lion turned his head her way.

“God, no,” Violet whispered, her hands sliding down the railings as she sank to the ground. Blood stained the beast’s jaws and snout. He swept his tongue along his jawline, then he shook his head, his fluffy mane a blur as he emitted a low growl of satisfaction and sat down to rest over his quarry.

Violet clenched her eyes shut, willing away what she had just seen.
Please, God, don’t take her away from me. I love her more than anyone in the world. She cannot be dead. Cannot. Can. Not. Be. Dead.

It was only when she felt Mrs. Barrett’s hot breath on her neck as the woman whispered in her ear to quiet down that she realized she was rocking back and forth helplessly and moaning. Having Mrs. Barrett that wretchedly close snapped Violet back to reality. Her undertaker’s instincts that helped her face death on a daily basis took over her mind and body, serving her in that moment in a way she’d never known before.

She got up and faced Susanna’s killer, who said, “My, you must be distraught, Mrs. Morgan. Would you like to save Susanna? Here, I’ll help you.” Mrs. Barrett had a bronze key in her hand, which she inserted into the gate separating the lions from visitors, swinging the door open enough to let someone in. To Violet’s unasked question she said, “I was once very friendly with one of the attendants here. I always thought having a set of keys might come in handy one day. Go ahead, my brave little undertaker. Are you willing to confront a man-eating beast to save your little girl?”

For the moment, Violet could only confront her own constricting throat, which seemed to be paralyzing the rest of her body.

“My, my, don’t tell me you don’t love Susanna enough to do something for her? Very well, I’ll shut the door and instead you can take this now.” Mrs. Barrett wagged a stoppered vial in front of Violet’s face.

How confident this serial murderess was in her abilities to offer poison as casually as if she were offering a patient a warm cup of milk. Which was undoubtedly one of her methods for her poor, hapless victims.

Violet, though, was finished being victimized by this horrid, brutal woman who deserved an eternity in hell. With a strength she had no idea she possessed, Violet pulled her right hand back and brought it forward with as much power as she could muster, connecting her palm with Mrs. Barrett’s face in a loud and satisfying smack. The impact brought back the pain of her scalding injury, but the agreeable sound of her hand striking Mrs. Barrett more than made up for it.

Mrs. Barrett was startled enough to lose her grip on the vial. Violet caught it as it slipped from the other woman’s hand. For one second she considered trying to force Mrs. Barrett to drink it herself, but thought the better of it and instead threw it against the wall behind Mrs. Barrett. The glass shattered into countless bits of poisonous spray and sharp pieces.

“How dare you?” Mrs. Barrett sputtered, her face mottled with fury. “You nitwitted little coffin ghoul. This was not part of my plan. Now I’m very angry.”

“Oh, I dare, Mrs. Barrett. I dare because I love that girl and you took her away from me. What a shame that you should be angry. And now I plan to get Susanna.”

“Hah! Not from inside the lions’ cage. They’ll tear you to pieces.”