When the Walls Fell (25 page)

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked.

She followed Simon’s gaze and realized she’d nearly destroyed one of the couch pillows by picking at a loose seam. She poked some stuffing back in and put it aside.

“I hate that we can’t change things and yet, I’m kind of afraid I did.”

“Elizabeth, what did you do?”

“Nothing, maybe. Or, maybe, I might have said something that’s sort of responsible for the beginnings of the inklings of the founding of the Temporal Council and the invention of the time traveling watch.”

“I was gone two hours.”

She shrugged. “It was an interesting two hours.”

She proceeded to tell him about her adventure with Teddy and needlessly, swore him to secrecy.

“Teddy? Teddy Fiske discovered time travel?” Simon said as he prowled the edge of the room, still trying to process what she’d told him. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Do you have any idea how dangerous what you did was?”

“I didn’t know we were going to time travel.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “And if you’d known?”

He had her there and they both knew it.

Simon sighed dramatically. “Elizabeth. Experimental time travel and, worse yet, traveling into your own past.”

“I told Teddy that wasn’t kosher.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Simon said with a sarcastic air of nonchalance. “Elizabeth,” he breathed out as he sat down heavily onto the sofa.

“It seemed like the right thing to do.” And it had. If the powers that be wanted her to do or not do something they needed to send out a memo.

Simon was quiet for a moment and Elizabeth braced herself for another talking to, but Simon seemed to have shifted gears without notice.

“When Travers came to see you,” he said, “he said that everything that happened in 1929 was meant to be.”

“Yeah…”

“Perhaps your interaction with Teddy was also meant to be. We know the watches already exist because we have them, so someone must have created them. We wouldn’t have been able to come back here if that wasn’t already the case.”

Elizabeth plopped down onto the sofa next to him and rubbed her temples. “I’m getting one of those paradox headaches.”

“It is a bit confusing, isn’t it? We simply have to assume that everything we’ve done here is meant to be. That we’re not changing time.”

“You’re forgetting the fact that we were sent here to do just that by saving Graham.”

“And yet, we didn’t. Graham still died.”

“But that’s a change, isn’t it? In the original timeline, he wasn’t supposed to die and when he did, time changed. Or did it?”

Elizabeth scrunched up her face in discomfort. “I need some seltzer or something. Time travel upsets my stomach.”

Simon stood and pulled the velvet cord by the fireplace that summoned one of the servants.

“I know you don’t believe the Council,” Elizabeth said, ignoring Simon’s acid expression, “but what if they were right about time changing, just not about how.”

“Go on,” Simon prompted.

A knock on the salon door interrupted her reply and the maid Jane stepped in.

“Miss Elizabeth isn’t feeling well. Is there something on hand for an upset stomach?” Simon asked.

Jane nibbled her lip, bobbed her head and blushed. “Is it a womanly thing, Miss?”

Elizabeth snorted delicately and shook her head. “No, just a bit nauseous. Some crackers would be lovely, if you have them.”

Jane dipped a quick curtsey and left.

“Womanly problems?” Elizabeth said with a giggle that died in her throat. The proverbial penny dropped like a cartoon anvil. “Womanly problems. Simon! I’ve got it. I think I know what’s happened. Graham’s death was supposed to destroy his family tree and all of his descendants. But it didn’t.”

“We’ve established that,” Simon said.

“Because it was too late. The seed’s already been planted, Simon. Mary Graham isn’t sick; she’s pregnant.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“A
re you sure?” Simon asked.

“No, but it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Simon nodded thoughtfully and ran his fingers through his hair, finding the bump on the back of his head still tender.

“And if it’s true, Mary is in serious danger.”

“Not necessarily,” Simon said. “She could lose the child naturally.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”

Simon hated to point it out, but they needed to try to keep clear heads about all of this. “It is unpleasant to contemplate, but the reality is that the infant and mother mortality rates are still painfully high at this time. It’s also possible the child survives the birth only to fall victim to Diphtheria, Influenza, an accident or any of a dozen things. Including, need I remind you, a rather devastating earthquake.”

“That’s true,” Elizabeth said crestfallen. “I hate it when you make a good point.”

“But,” Simon said and smiled as Elizabeth immediately perked up. “It would be prudent to see if we can’t convince Mrs. Graham to leave town.”

“Hooray for prudent!”

Simon shook his head and stood. He held out his hand to Elizabeth and he helped her up. “We don’t have long. We’d better be convincing.”

Elizabeth had a look in her eye Simon knew too well. Mary Graham had no idea what she was up against.

“She’ll leave.”

***

The black mourning dress made Mary Graham’s already sallow skin look almost translucent. “I can’t leave.”

She sat in the same chair she had the last time they’d visited her. Was it really just a few days ago? That had been difficult enough; now the poor woman wasn’t just mourning the loss of a child, but her husband as well.

“It isn’t safe here,” Simon said. “I’m afraid your husband’s death wasn’t an accident.”

Mary closed her eyes in anguish and took a moment to compose herself before answering in a hoarse whisper. “I know.”

Elizabeth moved to the edge of her seat. “Then you have to see that it’s dangerous for you stay.” Mary shook her head, but Elizabeth pressed on. “For you and your baby.”

Mary Graham looked as though she was going to deny it, but instead she smiled sadly. “Victor didn’t even know. I was going to tell him, but I wanted to make sure. I…I’ve miscarried before, you see, and each time a part of Victor…I wanted to be sure this time and now it doesn’t matter at all.”

Mary broke down into tears and Simon felt thoroughly helpless. Thankfully, Elizabeth joined Mary on the settee and took her hand. “It does matter. More than you know.”

Mary sniffled and wiped her tears. “I still can’t leave. There’s an inquest into Victor’s…and there are funeral arrangements to be made. I…”

“Just for a few days,” Elizabeth said.

“Why would she want to hurt Victor that way? What could we possibly have done to her to make her hate us so?”

Simon leaned forward in his chair. “You didn’t do anything, Mrs. Graham. You’re not to blame in this.”

“It was as though she’d cast some sort of spell on him,” Mary said. “Did you know that he saw her several times after the séance? She claimed she could help us save Violet. I…I didn’t believe her, but Victor was convinced. He thought she was our only hope. Is she some sort of witch?”

“No,” Simon said quickly, staving off anything Elizabeth might have said to the contrary. “Not a witch. Just a very sick woman.”

“Please reconsider, Mary,” Elizabeth said. “Simon and I will take you wherever you want to go. Just for a few days.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. The Graham’s butler stepped in. “Pardon the intrusion, ma’am, but the police are here.”

“Oh, yes, please bring them in,” Mary said and then turned to Simon and Elizabeth. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t leave.”

Two blue-coated policemen stepped into the parlor. “Ma’am,” one of them said curtly before addressing Simon. “Are you Sir Simon Cross?”

Simon hesitated. “Yes.”

“You need to come with us, sir.”

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth crossed the room and tried to put herself between Simon and the officers.

“Please step aside, Miss,” one of them said.

Simon had a sinking feeling about this.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” she demanded.

“His lordship is under arrest,” the officer said and held up a pair of heavy iron cuffs. “Now, step aside before I clamp a pair of these on you too, Miss.”

Elizabeth didn’t budge.

“It’s all right, Elizabeth,” Simon said with much more confidence than he felt. “I’m sure there’s just been some sort of misunderstanding.”

“Not unless you count murder as a misunderstanding,” the officer said as he put the cuffs on Simon’s wrists. “You, sir, are under arrest for the murder of Victor Graham.”

***

The jail cells at City Hall were probably just about as clean as the stables at City Hall. Something resembling a mattress was thrown on top of a metal platform that was suspended by heavy chains from the wall. Simon could only imagine the lice, bedbugs and God only knew what else that were living inside it. The only other decoration in his eight by eight foot cell was a bucket in the corner. The stench coming from it was overwhelming.

And yet, the worst part of it was the walls. Not because they pressed in on him, which they did, but because they were made of brick. Each one would be a potential death sentence when the earthquake came, and it was coming closer with every passing minute. He had to get out of this wretched place before then.

He reached for his watch and then remembered that it and everything else he’d had with him was locked away in that damned enormous filing cabinet across the room in the office area. If he managed to break out, he’d have to break into that. It wouldn’t be easy either. This wasn’t a typical office filing cabinet. Of course, breaking out or breaking in, neither seemed all that likely at the moment.

The bars to his cell were made of heavy iron. There was no way he could break through them. He was trapped. Good and well trapped. He slammed his hand hard against them and heard a loud rumbling snore from the cell next to his.

“Perfect.”

He heard voices in the hallway—Elizabeth and two men. She appeared in the doorway and he was struck by how badly he’d needed to see her. She hurried across the room and met him at the bars. Behind her, Max slipped a handful of bills into a policeman’s hand.

The officer looked around and said, “Five minutes.”

Max nodded, shoed the officer out and then leaned against the door jamb.

Elizabeth wrapped her hands around Simon’s. “Are you all right?”

“What’s this all about?”

Elizabeth’s eyes grew even more worried. “It seems Victor didn’t fall to his death.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He was shot.”

“That’s absurd, we told them what happened.”

Elizabeth paced around the small room. “I know. They said because the body was badly damaged it took time for them to discover the bullet wound.”

“That’s absurd.” Simon had a horrible feeling that he knew where this was headed.

“It gets better. Your gun was found on the rocks near the body.”

“Stryker.” Simon had thought he’d lost it in the tall grass, but Stryker must have taken it while they were fighting. “That’s hardly enough evidence for an arrest. How did they even know the gun’s mine?”