Текст книги "Quicksilver"
Автор книги: Amanda Quick
Соавторы: Amanda Quick
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
THIRTY-SIX
He awakened from the dark dream to the pale light of a drizzly dawn and a deep awareness of Virginia’s strong, invigorating energy. He opened his eyes and looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling. He was lying on a bed, but he was quite certain it was not his own.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Virginia said. “Your relations downstairs have been very anxious.”
He turned his head on the pillow and saw her in the doorway of the bedroom. She was dressed in a plain housedress. Her hair was neatly pinned into a simple knot at the back of her head. She had a mug of coffee in her hand.
“Virginia,” he said. He sat up and started to push back the covers. He stopped when he realized he was nude to the waist. He glanced down and saw that he was wearing only his drawers. He yanked the covers back up over his hips and surveyed the decidedly feminine curtains, wallpaper and dressing table. “This is your bedroom.”
“Yes, it is. It was much closer than your own, so we brought you here. It seemed more convenient.” She carried the mug into the room, set it down on the bedside table and gave him a bright smile. “How are you feeling?”
He pondered that briefly. “I think I feel all right.” Cautiously he heightened his talent. Relief flooded through him when he realized that his psychical senses were as strong as ever. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Good,” she said. “Mrs. Crofton is preparing breakfast for all of us. I suggest you wash up, dress and join us.”
He looked around. “Where are the rest of my clothes?”
“Tony discarded them. He went to your house early this morning to fetch some clean clothes for you. There was just too much blood.”
He grimaced. Seeing him covered in the blood of a man he had just killed had probably not left a good impression on her.
“I understand,” he said.
“You’ll find everything you need hanging in the wardrobe. The bathroom is next door.”
She turned to leave.
“Virginia,” he said very quietly.
She stopped and looked at him. “Yes?”
“You saved me last night.”
“No,” she said. “You are a strong man. You just needed time to recover from the effects of the mirror.”
“I can’t believe that damned looking glass was so powerful.”
“It was an alchemical weapon, not an ordinary looking glass. Charlotte and Nick have done some research into its origins. They will tell you all about it when you come downstairs.”
He twisted the sheet around himself, stood and walked across the room to stand in front of her. “Whatever the hell it was, you are the reason I recovered with my senses intact.”
“No, I could sense the power in you, even when you were unconscious. I knew that you would recover.”
“Because I had you to hold on to.” He tipped up her chin and brushed his mouth across hers. “There is a connection between us, Virginia. Admit it.”
“Perhaps there is some sort of psychical awareness.”
“Yes, there certainly is.” He kissed her forehead.
“But that is not so odd, when you think about it,” she said. She frowned in intense concentration, as though puzzling out a math problem. “We are both strong talents, and we have been intimate. Passion is a powerful force. It creates a great deal of energy.”
“Indeed.” He kissed her nose.
“While it lasts,” she whispered.
She whirled and fled the room.
For some reason he was ridiculously pleased with her confusion. It was so unlike Virginia to get flustered. He told himself he would take it as a good omen.
He walked into the dining room a short time later and stopped at the sight of the large crowd gathered there. Virginia and Charlotte sat at the table, plates of eggs, toast and kippered salmon in front of them. Each was reading a morning paper.
“Ladies,” he said. “You look lovely today.”
Virginia glanced up from the Flying Intelligencer. She surveyed him critically and appeared satisfied. “Good morning.”
Charlotte smiled warmly. “It is good to see you looking so fit after your ordeal, sir.”
“I expect to look even better after I’ve had breakfast,” he said.
Nick, Matt and Tony were at the sideboard, helping themselves to generous quantities of food from the serving dishes.
“About time you woke up,” Nick said. He ladled a mound of scrambled eggs onto his plate. “It was a long night, and none of us got much sleep, thanks to you, so we decided to start breakfast without you.”
“I’m touched,” Owen said. He realized he was hungry. He picked up a plate and examined the contents of the serving dishes. “What the devil are you all doing here at this hour of the morning?”
“We spent the night here,” Nick said.
The swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room opened. Mrs. Crofton bustled into the room with a pot of coffee. Her eyes widened at the sight of Owen. She appeared pleased.
Pleased and decidedly more cheerful than usual,Owen thought. The housekeeper seemed almost energized.
“You’re awake, then, sir,” she said. “And looking quite fit, just as Miss Dean predicted.” She set the coffeepot down on the table. “I’ll bring out some more potatoes.”
She whisked back into the kitchen. He knew at once that she was aware of everything that had happened during the night. He looked at Virginia.
“It is impossible to keep secrets from a housekeeper,” she said. She went back to reading her paper.
Owen glanced at Charlotte, who made a show of turning a page of the morning paper that she was perusing.
He turned his attention to Nick.
“You all spent the night here?” he said without inflection.
“Yes,” Nick said.
“Must have been somewhat crowded.”
“We made do,” Nick said easily. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t do something melodramatic if you woke up and concluded that the mirror had permanently fried your para-senses. Try some of the salmon. It’s excellent.”
Owen picked up one of the large silver serving spoons. “When have you ever known me to be melodramatic?”
“First time for everything,” Nick said. He took a bite of toast.
It dawned on Owen that Virginia and Charlotte were listening intently without appearing to do so. He concluded it would be best to move on to another topic, one more suited to casual breakfast-table conversation.
“What did you do with the body?” he asked.
Virginia choked on her tea and started to cough. Charlotte glowered at Owen.
He carried his plate back to the table, sat down and looked at both women. “Something I said?”
Virginia recovered and gave him a severe look. “We are eating breakfast, Mr. Sweetwater. Kindly save all talk of dead bodies until later.”
He noticed that Nick, Matt and Tony were doing their best to conceal their twitching lips.
“Breakfast-table conversation in non-Sweetwater households generally takes a slightly different tone than it does at home,” Tony said.
“Is that so?” Owen sat down at the table. “In that case, pass me the toast tray.”
They gathered in the parlor after breakfast. Mrs. Crofton joined them. Owen did not ask her to leave. She knew too much already, he thought. She might as well hear the rest of it. After all, she was part of Virginia’s household.
“We dumped the footpad’s body in one of the old crypts,” Nick said. “It will probably be ages, perhaps years, before it is discovered, if, indeed, it is ever found. But even if by some fluke someone stumbled over it today, there is nothing on it that will connect him to any of us. Everything about him, from his clothes to his rings and the kind of knife he carried, indicates he was a professional criminal.”
“One of many who are now on the streets, looking for work, since Luttrell’s criminal empire fell apart,” Matt said.
“Don’t worry, Uncle Owen, we took care of every detail,” Tony added.
“I do not doubt that,” Owen said. “What I find troubling about this situation is the Quicksilver Mirror.”
They all looked at the black velvet sack on the coffee table.
“The artifact is an alchemical object, but it is, nonetheless, a mirror,” Virginia said. “We have all agreed that it is too much to believe it turned up in the footpad’s hands by pure coincidence.”
“He told me that it had been given to him by his client, a Mr. Newton,” Owen said.
“Who evidently has concluded that you are standing in the way of his plans,” Charlotte observed.
“Which include Virginia,” Owen said.
“It also means that Mr. Newton, whoever he is, knows or suspects that you are a good deal more than simply a researcher of the paranormal who specializes in exposing fraudulent mediums,” Virginia said. “Otherwise he would not have given a hired killer from the streets such a valuable artifact to use against you.”
Owen looked at Nick. “After breakfast you will see what you can find out about the hunter who attacked me last night. With his talent he will no doubt have had a reputation on the streets.”
“Right.”
Owen turned to Charlotte. “Any luck finding the missing paid companion?”
Charlotte frowned. “No, and it is rather odd. There are not that many agencies that supply paid companions to wealthy households. I made inquiries yesterday at all of the more exclusive agencies. None of them had any record of providing a companion for Lady Hollister.”
“Another dead end,” Owen said. “I think we must assume that the companion, whoever she is, may be involved in this affair. Either that or she is dead.”
“Perhaps she saw too much and concluded that she needed to go into hiding,” Virginia suggested.
“That is a third possibility,” Owen said. “But regardless of where she is now, some agency must have sent her into that household.”
“I’ll make inquiries at some of the less exclusive agencies today,” Charlotte said.
“Thank you, Miss Tate.” Owen started to pace the room, trying to think of other possible angles that needed to be explored. The unpleasant energy stirring the hair on the nape of his neck told him that time was running out. The killer was becoming dangerously impatient. “We need to move more quickly in this affair. We know that the bastard is linked to the Institute and to Hollister. We have to find the connection.”
Virginia cleared her throat. “Mrs. Crofton has offered to assist us with the investigation.”
Owen glanced at Mrs. Crofton, who regarded him with an expectant, oddly hopeful air. It dawned on him that she not only seemed more cheerful and energized this morning, she appeared younger in some way.
“How do you propose to help, Mrs. Crofton?”
“I might be able to locate the housekeeper, sir.”
“What housekeeper?” Owen said. Then comprehension struck. “The one in the Hollister mansion. Of course. Excellent notion. But if we cannot find the companion, how do you propose to locate the housekeeper?”
Mrs. Crofton beamed. “I have connections in that world, sir. If she is out there, I can find her.”
Owen hesitated. “It is very kind of you to offer to assist us in this investigation, but are you certain you want to do this? There may be some risk involved.”
“As I explained to Miss Dean, I am not unfamiliar with risk, sir,” she said. “Now, if there’s nothing more, I’ll be on my way.”
“Where are you going?” Virginia asked.
“I believe I will start by speaking with a friend of mine who has a sister who is currently employed in the Overton household,” Mrs. Crofton said. “The Overtons know everyone in the more exclusive circles, and therefore know all the gossip.”
Virginia’s eyes lit with understanding. “Therefore it follows that their staff will be equally well connected to those who are in service to exclusive employers. Brilliant, Mrs. Crofton.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” She hurried toward the door. “I shall get my bonnet and coat and be off.”
Owen put up a hand to stop her briefly. “You will be careful, Mrs. Crofton.”
“Yes, sir.”
The sparkle of excitement in her eyes worried him, but he waved her on out the door and turned to Tony. “Matt will be Miss Dean’s bodyguard today. I want you to go into the Hollister mansion and tear the place apart. Miss Dean and I did not have time to do a thorough search on our last visit to that house. Look for anything that might tell us how Hollister might have been linked to the Institute.”
“I’m off,” Tony said. He headed for the door.
“Whatever you do, don’t get yourself arrested for breaking and entering,” Owen called after him. “We have enough trouble on our hands at the moment.”
“I’ll be careful,” Tony said. He went through the door.
“And make sure you keep an eye out for automatons,” Owen called after him.
Nick pushed himself away from the wall he had been propping up and smiled at Charlotte. “You and I might as well get started on our projects. We both have a busy day ahead.”
“Indeed.” Charlotte got to her feet.
They both went out the door. For a time there was a great deal of noise and bustle in the front hall. The door opened and closed. The house was quiet again.
Owen looked at Virginia. “You and your female acquaintances appear to have a taste for adventure,” he observed.
“Yes, well, none of us is getting any younger,” she said. “I suppose it comes down to a choice between a dash of danger and adventure or an appointment with Dr. Spinner.”
“About this Dr. Spinner.”
“Never mind. What is our plan of action for the day?”
He reminded himself that the mystery of Dr. Spinner and his therapy for female hysteria was not the most pressing issue at the moment.
“I think it would be useful if you were seen going about your customary routine at the Institute this afternoon,” he said. “We need more information from that quarter.”
“You want me to try to discover some gossip concerning this affair?” she asked.
“Yes. Someone at the Institute must know something. You are the only one in a position to make inquiries.”
“No offense, sir, but if you are seen hovering in my vicinity, I doubt very much that anyone will risk engaging in any sort of useful conversation with me.”
“I’m aware of that,” he said. “Which is why Matt will accompany you today.”
Virginia glanced at Matt. “How do I explain his presence?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Owen said.
She turned back to him. “What will you do while Matt and I are at the Institute?”
“I am going to pursue some very boring research into Hollister’s financial affairs. Now that both Lord and Lady Hollister are conveniently dead, someone has just inherited a fortune. I would like to know the name of the happy heir.”
“You think that money might have been a motive in Hollister’s death?”
“Money is always a strong motive.”
“But I thought we concluded that there is some mad scientist running around in this affair,” Matt said.
“In my experience, scientists, mad or otherwise, are always in need of money.”
Virginia raised her brows. “That is a very good observation.”
“Thank you. I try to do that every once in a while in the course of an investigation. There is another angle I want to explore as well. Now, then, before I leave, I have a small gift for you.”
Virginia’s eyes lit up with pleasure. “Really, sir, you shouldn’t have.”
He reached into his pocket, took out the lock pick and presented it to her. “My uncle designed it. Very simple to use. Works on most standard locks.”
Matt got a pained expression. “Uncle Owen, that is not the sort of gift one gives to a lady.”
Virginia blinked in surprise, but she recovered immediately and took the pick from Owen. She examined it with evident delight. “How thoughtful. I’ve been wanting one of my very own.”
She was pleased, Owen decided. Satisfied that his first gift to her had been a success, he gave Matt a triumphant smile.
Matt rolled his eyes.
Owen headed for the door. “Matt, here, can teach you how to use it this morning before you go off to the Institute this afternoon.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
The Institute was humming with activity when Virginia and Matt arrived. Practitioners, researchers and clients mingled in the halls and lounged in the tearoom.
Matt looked around with interest while Virginia handed her umbrella and rain-spattered cloak to the porter.
“So this is the Leybrook Institute,” Matt said. “It’s not quite what I expected.”
“What, exactly, were you expecting?” Virginia asked coolly.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Everyone in my family assumes that most people who call themselves practitioners are charlatans and frauds. I didn’t think this establishment would have such an academic atmosphere.”
“Leybrook and everyone else connected to the Institute work very hard to create that atmosphere,” she said stiffly.
Matt flushed a dull red. “My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean to imply that you are a charlatan. Of course I understand that some practitioners are genuine talents. And it certainly seems reasonable that they would congregate in professional surroundings like this.”
Virginia waved his protests aside with an impatient gesture. “My office is upstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Matt said. He followed her meekly across the grand front hall.
Welch’s voice stopped her just as she was about to lead the way up the staircase.
“Good morning, Miss Dean,” he called. He hurried toward her. “I’ve been waiting for you. I was about to ask Mrs. Fordham to send a note around to your address.”
“Good morning, Mr. Welch,” she said. “I’d like you to meet my new assistant, Mr. Kern.”
“New assistant, eh?” Welch gave Matt a swift, critical appraisal and then nodded approvingly. “You look quite presentable, young man. That’s important here at the Institute. We have an image to maintain, you know. Mr. Leybrook is very insistent on that point.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said politely. “I look forward to assisting Miss Dean.”
Welch turned eagerly to Virginia. “I have excellent news, Miss Dean. I am delighted to inform you that I have just received a request for a private consultation with you from a new client. A most exclusive new client, I might add. Mr. Leybrook will be very pleased.”
“Who is the new client?”
“Lady Mansfield.”
Virginia’s stomach fluttered. She knew that the attack of nerves was fueled by the rush of mixed emotions. Uncertainty, curiosity and a deep longing to see her half-sister again swept through her. But common sense told her that any attempt to forge a bond with Elizabeth would be a mistake. It was not in the girl’s best interests to maintain a personal relationship with an illegitimate half-sister, a sister who occupied a very different rung on the social ladder. Such an association could damage Elizabeth’s reputation and even affect her marriage prospects when she got older.
Those who moved in elevated circles were far from naive. They were aware of the facts of life. It was not uncommon for gentlemen to produce bastard offspring. But society and the members of the gentleman’s legitimate family never acknowledged such offspring socially.
“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Virginia said weakly.
“Yes, yes, I know, but this is Lady Mansfield,” Welch said. “Mr. Leybrook likes to encourage that sort of high-flyer.”
“There are other glass-readers here at the Institute.”
“Lady Mansfield was quite insistent. In her note she said that she wanted an appointment with you.”
“I generally meet new clients here at the Institute for the initial meeting.”
Welch gave her a reproving look. “You cannot expect a person of Lady Mansfield’s consequence to come to you for a meeting. You must go to her. Naturally I told Mrs. Fordham to schedule the consultation.”
Virginia sighed. “Naturally.”
“It is for this Thursday afternoon at three.” Welch smiled benignly. “In her note Lady Mansfield very graciously said that she would send her carriage to your address to convey you to the appointment. Just think, Miss Dean, you will not be obliged to hire a public cab. Isn’t that splendidly generous of the client?”
“Splendidly generous, Mr. Welch. Thank you.”
“Indeed, you’re quite welcome. I can’t wait to inform Mr. Leybrook.”
Welch scurried away.
Virginia continued up the stairs, Matt at her heels.
What was Helen thinking? Virginia wondered. She was surely aware of the risks involved in promoting a connection between her daughter and her dead husband’s illegitimate offspring. On the other hand, it was obvious that Helen genuinely cared for Elizabeth. Perhaps she had concluded that it would be best if Elizabeth were given some practical advice in regard to managing her talent.
At the top of the stairs Virginia led Matt along the hall to the door of her small office. She opened the small chatelaine purse that dangled from her belt and took out her key. Her fingers brushed against the lock pick. She smiled. Most gentlemen gave their lovers jewelry. The Sweetwater men were more original when it came to tokens of affection. After two hours of intense instruction and practice on every lock in the house, Matt had pronounced her quite adept at lock-picking. You would have made a very good burglar, Miss Dean,he’d said.
She opened the door of the office. Matt followed her into the small space.
“Leave the door open,” she said in a low voice. “Our goal is to try to gain some information from my colleagues. The easiest way to do that is with casual conversation, and the quickest route to that end is an open door.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“There is no reason for you to stand around. Take one of the client chairs. I have a copy of the most recent edition of the Institute’s Journalthat you might like to examine.”
“Thanks.”
She sat behind the tidy little desk and plucked the copy of the Leybrook Journaloff a nearby bookshelf. Matt took it from her and studied the cover with great interest.
“It looks very much like a copy of Arcane’s Journal of Paranormal and Psychical Research,” he said.
Virginia smiled wryly. “I believe Mr. Leybrook deliberately patterned it after the Society’s publication. I told you, he is intent on establishing the credibility of the Institute.”
Matt opened the journal and glanced at the table of contents. He grinned and read aloud, “An Investigation of Automatic Writing as a Method for Relaying Messages from the Other Side.” He looked up. “The Leybrook Journalmay look like an Arcane publication, but I can assure you that no self-respecting member of the Society believes that spirits communicate through mediums who transmit their messages with automatic writing.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said. “Leybrook doesn’t believe in visitations from the Other Side, either, but he says that is the sort of paranormal investigation that intrigues the public.”
“And sells a great many copies of his Journal.”
“Yes.” She reached for her appointment book.
She heard Gilmore Leybrook’s confident footsteps in the hall outside her door just as she opened the book. He paused in the doorway. Matt got to his feet.
“Good morning, Virginia,” Gilmore said. “Welch told me that you had arrived.” He gave Matt a speculative survey. “He also mentioned that you have acquired a new assistant.”
“I decided to follow your example, Mr. Leybrook,” she said smoothly. “You have told me on more than one occasion that clients are always impressed by a practitioner who employs an assistant. Mr. Kern has accepted a position with me.”
“I see.” Gilmore did not look pleased. He ignored Matt and glanced at the open appointment book. “Busy day?” he said to Virginia.
“Not especially,” she said. She was careful, as she always was with Leybrook, to use her most exquisitely professional tones. “I have an appointment for a consultation later this afternoon but no readings tonight.”
“Welch tells me that you have attracted a very important new client, Lady Mansfield.” Gilmore sauntered, uninvited, into the office. “Congratulations.”
The small room was suddenly quite crowded, Virginia thought. The two men seemed to take up a great deal of the available space.
“Lady Mansfield has requested only a consultation,” she said. “I doubt that she will become a regular client.”
Gilmore lowered himself into one of the two wooden chairs arranged in front of the desk and hitched up his expensive trousers. “Let us hope that you can convince her otherwise.”
Virginia smiled and prepared to lie through her teeth. “I will certainly do my best. Was there anything else, Mr. Leybrook? If not, I would like to prepare for my appointment.”
“Yes, Virginia, there is something else.” Leybrook cocked a dark brow at Matt. “Be so good as to step out into the hall, Mr. Kern. I wish to speak to Miss Dean privately.”
Matt made no move to leave. He looked at Virginia for direction. She had known this confrontation was coming, she reminded herself. Best to get it over with as quickly and as privately as possible.
“It’s all right, Matt,” she said quietly. “Please wait in the hall. Mr. Leybrook won’t be long. Take the Journalwith you to read.”
Matt did not look happy, but he did not argue. “I’ll be just outside if you need me, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” Virginia said.
Matt walked out of the office. He did not close the door behind him. Leybrook got up and closed it quite firmly.
“Your new employee appears to be quite devoted to you,” he remarked, returning to the chair.
Virginia readied herself for the skirmish. If she did not handle things very carefully, today could prove to be her last at the Institute.
“I believe Mr. Kern has a flair for the business,” she said. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Unfortunately it has become clear that Miss Walters is not suited to the position for which I employed her.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. She appears to meet all your requirements in an assistant.”
“I have changed some of my requirements.”
“I see.”
“As it happens, Miss Dean, I have concluded that you will suit the position very nicely. I have decided to offer you the post.”
Virginia smiled with what she hoped was just the right degree of regret.
“I am certainly flattered, Mr. Leybrook, but I am afraid that I will not be able to take the position,” she said. “As you can see, I have, in fact, just hired my own assistant.”
Displeasure flashed across Leybrook’s handsome face. It vanished in the next instant.
“It is hardly the same sort of position that I am offering to you,” he said. “May I ask why you are not interested?”
“Do not mistake me, I am very aware of the singular honor you are offering. But I am determined to pursue my career as a glass-reader.”
“I never meant to imply that I would expect you to give up your readings if you became my assistant,” Gilmore said quickly. “The opposite, in fact. I have given the matter a great deal of thought, and I am convinced that working together as a team we could establish ourselves as the most fashionable glass-reading consultants in London.”
She picked up her pen. “But you do not read mirrors.”
“No,” he agreed. He smiled. “My talents lie in other directions. But that does not mean we cannot conduct consultations as a team. You would perform the actual reading of the mirrors, of course.”
“I see.”
“But we would inform clients that while you can summon the spirits in the glass, I am the one who can actually communicate with them.”
She tightened her grip on the pen. “You know that I don’t summon spirits.”
“Yes, but the majority of the clients believe that is exactly what you do. They think that you are a kind of medium, that you contact the Other Side through mirrors. It’s a very good act, Virginia, but it lacks a crucial element.”
“What is that?”
“The problem is that you do not give voice to the ghosts in the mirror. People want to communicate with the departed. In short, your act lacks the element of high drama. That is what clients seek when they pay a fee to a medium or a glass-reader.”
She put the pen aside very deliberately and clasped her hands on top of the appointment book. “I told you when I applied to become affiliated with the Institute that what I do is not an act. The reason that the afterimages don’t speak through me is because they are not spirits. I have explained that what I perceive are psychical photographs, not ghosts.”
“I understand. But that is precisely why you have not become the most successful psychical consultant at the Institute. It is why Pamela Egan channeling her ancient Egyptian princess and that old biddy Mrs. Harkins still pull in more clients than you do. People expect action at a séance or a reading. They want theatrics. They want to feel that there is active communication with the departed. I can provide that missing element in your readings.”
“Indeed?” she said evenly. “How would you do that?”
He sat forward. “By working with you at each consultation. You would do what you always do, summon the spirits in their final moments.”
“You mean summon the afterimages, which, I might remind you, only someone with my kind of talent can perceive.”
“Ah, but that is where I come in.” Leybrook smiled. “I can provide a visual element to the readings.”
“I knew it,” Virginia said. “You are an illusion-talent, aren’t you?”
He hesitated, frowning, and then shrugged. “Yes.”
“I suspected as much.”
“For obvious reasons I prefer to keep the exact nature of my ability a secret. People want to believe that they are seeing real ghosts, not stage magic. In our performances I will create the illusion of visual disturbances on the surfaces of the mirrors while you read the afterimages. The clients will be enthralled.”
“You intend to deceive them.”
“Not at all. I will merely enhance the experience for them by providing some drama. You will relay to me what you see in the mirrors. At the same time I will provide the audience with the illusion of fog and images swirling in the glass. But we will add the finishing touch. After you tell me what you have seen, I will channel the voices of the departed for our clients.”
“You will pretend to speak for spirits? But what will you say?”
“Come, now, Virginia, how hard can it be to speak for the dead and the dying? Mediums and séance-givers do it all the time. I will convey last messages to loved ones, perhaps a plea for justice in the event we stumble across a genuine murder victim, that sort of thing.”
“Has it occurred to you that if you claim to speak for someone who is in the process of being murdered the client and very likely the police will expect the victim to name the murderer?”
“There are ways to finesse that angle,” Leybrook said.
“How can you do that?”
“Mysterious clues from the dead will work nicely,” Gilmore said.
“What sort of clues?”
“Search for the blue door,”Gilmore intoned in a deep, melodramatic voice. “Listen for the hound at midnight. Read what is written on the stone at the bottom of the pond.”He waved one hand in a dismissing gesture, and his voice returned to normal. “There are endless possibilities when it comes to clues from beyond the grave.”
