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The last lecture for the day finished with a long-winded explanation of something or other, which Grace had been too distracted to catch. Several students dashed for the exit as soon as the tedious drawl of words sputtered to an end. Others had sneaked out early or dozed off.
Grace had spent most of the lecture watching Henry’s group of friends passing notes and carving obscenities into the desktop. She dreaded the moment she would have to approach them to ask where Henry was hiding. With any luck, they would leave before she had a chance to catch them.
Unfortunately, they lingered at the end of the lecture, almost as if they were waiting for her. Grace certainly didn’t want to be caught alone with them, so she grabbed her satchel, intending to wait for them at the entrance to the medical school building. They followed close behind her, setting the hairs on the back of her neck on end.
Outside, the grounds seemed unusually quiet. Henry’s friends quickly surrounded her.
She had no choice but to brazen it out. “Gentlemen, how fortuitous. I was hoping to ask if you knew where Henry Ormsby is staying.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient. As it happens, Ormsby wishes to speak to you, Penrose.”
The speaker was a student called Clement, who wasn’t one of Henry’s inner circle of friends. Clement had a reputation for getting things done for money, such as supplying exam answers and drugs to facilitate late-night, last-minute cramming. Perhaps he had branched out into harbouring criminals. Ironically, Clement came from one of the wealthier families in Dunedin, suggesting his dubious dealings were more for pleasure than desperation for funds.
Grace held her ground, despite being unnerved by Clement standing so close. “If you give me Henry’s address, I will arrange to see him.”
“Do you take me for a fool, Penrose? You’ll bring the rozzers.” Clement seized her arm in an iron grip, while his accomplice grabbed her other arm. “You’re coming with me. I’d advise you not to scream, like the pitiful woman you are, or I might be forced to hurt you.”
Henry’s friends had backed away at the first sign of aggression. Still, that left two against one. Grace considered the option of breaking Clement’s grip and throwing him to the ground. After previous experiences with men like him, Grace had taken the precaution of learning the art of defence from a street-wise friend. However, she did want to speak to Henry and had no wish to make an enemy, despite the temptation of showing up her abductor as a braggart. Besides, there was a fair chance it wouldn’t work and she would end up getting hurt for nothing.
On the other hand, Grace was not willing to go quietly and risk the other students claiming they had no idea that anything was wrong. “Unhand me, Clement, you are hurting me.” She struggled, ineffectually, before turning to the crowd cowering behind her. “You gentlemen bear witness. I am being abducted without my consent. Don’t just stand there, get help.”
Clement raised a hand to slap her, but thought better of it as rumblings spread through the crowd. Instead, he yanked her towards an enclosed carriage, already waiting on the street. The two men hoisted Grace inside. Clement followed, keeping a painful grip on her arm, while the other directed the coachman.
As the carriage rolled up the street, she caught a glimpse of a large mass bursting through the goggle-eyed onlookers, scattering them in all directions. Grace prayed it was Charlie, coming to her rescue. She had never quite fathomed how he knew when she was in trouble, but was profoundly grateful for his sixth sense.
Fortunately, they didn’t have far to go, and most of that was at a slow uphill plod. Grace had a moment of doubt when her captor pulled her from the carriage outside a grand house overlooking the city. The street was empty. Grace put up a struggle, to allow her rescuer time to catch up, but Clement was having none of it. He dragged her into the house, took her to a quiet parlour, and departed.
Henry Ormsby huddled close to the fire. “Penrose, you came.”
“Your pet ape gave me little choice. Do you know how many years in gaol you would get for abduction?”
Henry lifted tired eyes to her. “Don’t be annoying, Penrose. I simply asked Clement to tell you that I wanted to speak to you.”
“Clement abducted me in front of a crowd of witnesses, forcibly enough to leave marks on my forearms. However, I do wish to speak with you, Ormsby, so perhaps we can overlook the commission of a serious criminal offence for the moment. Especially if you can provide a cup of tea. Being accused of murder makes one thirsty.”
Henry got up and rang a bell, then resumed his seat by the fire. “I wish to apologise for the misunderstanding on Saturday night, Penrose. When I yelled ‘she killed my father’, I naturally assumed everyone would know I meant my stepmother. I had no intention of implicating you. I knew if I didn’t leave the house, I would be the next corpse.”
Grace allowed that to pass, although she hoped Henry would be given a stern talking to by DI Wallace. “Why would anyone believe your stepmother a murderess?”
They were interrupted by tea, which arrived so quickly, Clement must have seen to it. Henry had to be paying him well to hide him, and act as his servant and henchman. Grace waited for Henry to play the host and pour, but saw to it herself when he didn’t move. He seemed a diminished version of the conceited rich boy she knew from medical school. Either he was worried about being charged with murder or he was frightened of whoever really did kill his father.
No sooner had Grace poured and taken her first sip, when there was a scuffle outside and the door burst open. The snug parlour assumed doll’s house proportions in the presence of a six-foot male frame, bulging with muscle, sinew and fury. Grace almost dropped the cup in surprise. Her rescuer was not Charlie after all.
Henry’s eyes bulged at the apparition. He shrank into a ball and whimpered. “Don’t kill me, I beg you. I haven’t hurt her.”
“You’d better not have, lad. And don’t bother calling your vile associate. He fell onto my fist and is taking a short nap on the floor, prior to being arrested for abduction and the attempted assault of a policeman.”
Grace gaped at her heavy-breathing saviour.
“Are you hurt, Grace?” Charlie’s father asked, mistaking her shocked silence for distress.
“A little scalded, as your dramatic entrance made me spill my tea, but otherwise fine. Charming of you to drop by. May I introduce Mr Henry Ormsby, who was about to tell me why he thinks his stepmother is a murderess. Ormsby, this is Sergeant Pyke.”
Henry looked between her and Charlie’s father, his alarm tinged with confusion. “This is your admirer, Penrose. The policeman who killed a man for you? Isn’t he a little...”
“A little what, Mr Ormsby?” Sergeant Pyke asked, his eyes twinkling.
Henry was struck dumb. His confusion and alarm doubled a moment later, when a second six-foot male shoved his way into the parlour. “How many more of you are there?” he squeaked.
“I’d have thought two Pykes quite enough to deal with any situation,” Grace said, as she went to the sideboard for more cups. “In fact, I usually find one Pyke to be more than sufficient.”
“Thanks for leading the way, Pa,” Charlie said. “I’d have left you to it, only I was too embarrassed to stay outside the medical school, watching Ma tear shreds off those young fellows who stood by while Grace was abducted. Now, how about you take a seat, while I squeeze the truth out of this little scumbag.”
“Perhaps we could all take a seat,” Grace suggested. “Ormsby, allow me to introduce Mr Charles Pyke, private detective and personal protection agent. Or rather, one of my team of personal protection agents, or so it would seem. Charlie, dearest, do stop terrifying the witness and have some of this excellent tea. Can I pour for you too, Sergeant Pyke?”
“That would be delightful, Grace. Just a drop of milk, please.”
Charlie rolled his eyes and sat directly opposite Henry, pulling his chair close. He took the proffered cup, holding it by the delicate handle with his little finger extended, in a parody of a genteel tea party. The other hand sat on his knee, clenched in a fist. “Talk, Ormsby.”
Henry’s gaze flicked between the two Pykes and the door. Charlie glared back with glacial green eyes. Henry talked.
“I was just apologising to Penrose – Miss Penrose – for implicating her unintentionally. When I was running back to the house, I realised that what I had first understood to be an altercation between my father and Miss Penrose was the same type of fatal seizure I had seen in the rats that were poisoned by my stepmother. It was my stepmother I meant when I said ‘she killed him’. I suspect the evil witch killed my mother too, to get her hands on our family’s money.”
“That’s a bold accusation, Ormsby,” Charlie said. “Your stepmother seems a perfectly amiable lady who loved your father deeply. What evidence do you have that she is a cold-blooded killer?”
“Don’t let that ‘loving wife’ act fool you,” Henry sneered. “She is out for what she can get. You must have seen what she does in that lair of hers, brewing poison and potions. My mother was the only one on the ship who died, you know, despite dozens falling ill with dysentery. My stepmother played the saviour, ‘nursing’ my mother day and night, not letting anyone else get close. My gullible father hung on her every word. Did you know that my stepmother was already a widow before the voyage? I’d very much like to know why she fled her homeland after her first husband’s death.”
“Did the ship’s surgeon voice any doubts as to your mother’s cause of death?” Charlie asked.
“What do you think, Pyke? My stepmother is like a siren, luring men to do her bidding. I may not have enough evidence for a court of law, but I know how she acted. Furthermore, I have the evidence of a girl who was acquainted with her on board. The girl told me my future stepmother was fleeing her past and prepared to do whatever was necessary for a better future in New Zealand.”
Grace was sure that Henry had convinced himself he had the classic wicked stepmother of fairy tales. Nevertheless, Henry’s conviction and obvious fear for his own life opened a crack in her previous trust in Mrs Ormsby. Could there be a grain of truth in his story?
“Everyone who emigrated was fleeing their past for a better future,” Charlie said. “The lure of a new country and fresh opportunities was only strong for those who were either struggling to make ends meet in Britain or those with a sense of adventure.”
Grace couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that Henry believed his version of events. “Henry, you said you left the house because you thought you would be next. Why would your stepmother want to kill you?”
“She hates me,” Henry said. “And I am my father’s heir. I stand in the way of her getting her hands on our wealth.”
“Surely Richard is your older brother,” Grace said, “and therefore the heir?”
“Richard and Father had a falling out. Besides, the witch was already lining up her acolyte, Lawson, to marry my older brother. I don’t like his chances of making old bones, do you? Father was standing in the way of that disgraceful union, as you can imagine, which is why he disinherited Richard. One more nail in Father’s coffin. That Lawson is a wily one, always listening at doors and poking in drawers when she thinks nobody is watching.”
Charlie leaned forward. “If you were the main beneficiary of your father’s estate, surely you had the most to gain by killing him. By your own admission, you knew of the rat poison and had as much opportunity to kill your father as anyone else in the house. I have to say, Ormsby, your disappearance immediately after your father’s death has thrown suspicion on you. I would strongly advise you to present yourself to Detective Inspector Wallace without delay. I suspect he will be issuing a warrant for your arrest very soon, if you don’t come forward.”
Henry jerked upright. “The police suspect me? That’s outrageous.”
“You must have considered the possibility,” Grace said. “Presumably you ‘invited’ me here so I could convey your side of the story.”
“I admit Finch warned me that the police suspected me. I didn’t believe him, but I thought you would know. I didn’t kill my father. Why would I? My father and I have an excellent relationship. He was proud of me, choosing to follow the same career he did, like a good son should. Unlike Richard.”
“And yet you were overheard on Saturday morning having a loud and acrimonious argument with your father,” Charlie said. “May I ask what that was about?”
“Hardly acrimonious, although I suppose I did lose my temper, as did he. Father was coming around to the notion of Cecilia marrying Gideon Alexander. I was merely reminding him that the fellow hadn’t been in Dunedin long and lacked the qualities desired of an acceptable suitor.”
“By which you mean?”
“He lacked the financial assets to provide my sister with the life she deserved. She is my only sister, after all.” Henry waved away Grace’s attempted interruption. “I know what you are going to say, Penrose. Yes, Cecilia had fallen in love with Alexander, but the rush of feelings that comes with so-called love at first sight is a fleeting passion, not the basis for a marriage contract. Especially when Alexander was after her money, not her love.”
“In fact, I was about to query you calling Cecilia your only sister,” Grace replied.
Henry looked down his nose at her. “Agnes is a stepsister and quite as unhinged as her mother, if not more so. I wouldn’t put it past the little devil to have stolen the poison and tried it out on my father. She was cross at him after he gave her a well-deserved thrashing for setting the curtains alight.”
“I think we have heard quite enough, Mr Ormsby,” Charlie said. “I will accompany you to the police station now, to state your case.”
Henry rose from his armchair with visible effort. “I’ll get my bag.” He nipped out the door and up the hall with an unexpected turn of speed.
Charlie and his father both jumped up to go after him. The Pyke double-act lunged for the narrow door at the same time. Grace cringed at the sickening thud of bodies colliding. By the time Thomas stepped back to let Charlie through, Ormsby’s footsteps were no longer audible. A groan from the corridor indicated that Clement was waking up.
“Stay here, Grace, while I go after him. Pa, see to the prisoner.” Charlie sprinted after Henry.
Grace heard a scrapping and banging, followed by a curse from Charlie. Meanwhile, Sergeant Pyke unclipped the handcuffs from around the radiator pipes and pulled the woozy prisoner to his feet.
Charlie came back wearing an expression that would freeze an ocean. “Curse it. Wallace will have me boiled in oil. Henry scrambled out a window and escaped. I didn’t even get a fingerprint from him, as he didn’t pick up his cup. I’d better take his accomplice to the police station straight away. Wallace will squeeze him until he tells us were Henry is.”
“His name is Clement,” Grace said. “Do ensure you treat him as gently as he treated me. And you might suggest that Wallace send a man to investigate this house for evidence of drugs and other crimes. Not a nice fellow, Mr Clement.”
“I’ll see Grace home,” Thomas Pyke said. “Tell DI Wallace that Henry’s escape was my fault, for getting in your way. Sorry, son. Not used to being second in command.”
“I ought to go with Charlie,” Grace said. “I’ll need to make a statement at the police station.”
“Declan can take it tomorrow, Grace,” Charlie said. “Alistair will have taken witness statements, if Ma hasn’t terrified those medical students into silence. You go home and recover from your ordeal.” He clipped the open cuff to his wrist, took the key from his father, and departed, dragging a sullen Clement behind him.
As luck would have it, two ladies were alighting from a hansom cab further up the street. Thomas Pyke hailed it and helped Grace up into the cab. The cab lurched sideways as he climbed up after her.
Grace shuffled to the far side of the seat. “I must thank you, Sergeant Pyke, for coming to my rescue.”
Thomas Pyke squashed his bulk into the other corner to give Grace space. It felt decidedly odd, sharing the narrow interior with a man who was almost exactly the same size as Charlie.
“It was pure luck that we were strolling around the university looking for the medical school, when we saw you being manhandled into the carriage. I don’t know where Charlie appeared from, but he must have seen your abduction too. I must say, you seemed in fine fettle when I caught up to you, Grace, so perhaps you didn’t need to be rescued after all.”
“Henry Ormsby I could handle,” Grace replied, “but I was very relieved to see the last of Clement, thanks to your intervention.”
The horse plodded unsteadily down the steep hill, jostling them in the narrow confines of the cab. Thomas Pyke had to fold his broad shoulders like wings to avoid squashing her. “My apologies. Not used to sharing tight spaces with young ladies. I can’t get over how many people live in Dunedin these days.”
“I take it you don’t travel to the city often, Sergeant Pyke?”
“Very rarely. With Lily and Charlie both settled here, that will have to change. Jasmine and I would like to get to know you better too, Grace. I had assumed my son was exaggerating your exploits, but it seems he was understating your role in solving cases. You two make an excellent team.”
Grace felt her cheeks redden and cursed her pale skin. “Your son is a born detective, in my opinion. I hope you don’t feel too disappointed that Charlie is not following in your footsteps.”
“Disappointed? Is that what Charlie thinks? I assure you, I couldn’t be prouder of what he has achieved in so short a career.”
“Henry Ormsby certainly feels he earned his status as heir by choosing the same vocation as his father. His older brother, Richard, resented his father’s disdain for his choices.”
Thomas Pyke’s harrumph was forceful enough to vibrate down his arm and into Grace’s shoulder. “This Ormsby fellow sounds like a fool to me. Changing his will to punish his eldest son like that is asking for trouble. Far better to let one’s children choose their own paths in life and to treat each in an equal manner in terms of inheritance. Easy for me to say, of course, with only one child, no fortune, and nothing but unbounded delight in my son’s choices in both career and love.”
The sincerity of these last words triggered a rush of warmth through Grace. In the two days since she had met Thomas and Jasmine Pyke, they had had a ringside seat to her failure to save a man’s life, followed by an accusation of murder, a police interview, a late-night sortie to the scene of the death with their son, and now an abduction. Not to mention leaving Lily without the help of her bridesmaid in preparing for one of the most important days of her life. Hardly the type of young lady most parents dreamed of for their only son.
Rather than drawing attention to her dubious accomplishments, Grace decided to use the golden opportunity to pick the brain of an experienced policeman. “Sergeant Pyke, you heard what Henry said about his stepmother being driven by greed. The same might be said of every member of the Ormsby family, including Henry. And they all resented Doctor Ormsby for thwarting their ambitions. Do you think such resentments and greed could be sufficient motive for a deliberately planned murder? It does not seem enough to me, when they suffered no financial or personal hardship in their present lives.”
Sergeant Pyke considered the question, displaying the same thoughtful intensity as his son. “I had a case a few years back, when a miner killed another over a mining claim. The killer had spent years watching other miners find bigger nuggets of gold. He never showed the least reaction other than mild envy. However, when he moved to a new claim, and the next man found a big nugget in his old patch, he lost his mind completely. It wasn’t about the wealth, so much as the sense of injustice, that it should have been his nugget. Resentment and entitlement can be strong motivators, especially for people of weak character.”
The horse was leaning hard into the traces now, as they went up the steep stretch of High Street to Anne’s house.
“As to the Ormsby case,” Sergeant Pyke continued, “I really couldn’t say without meeting the suspects. In a family, resentments can build up over time, until the smallest incident can cause a person to commit a heinous act. For women, years of violent abuse can be a strong motive too.”
Doctor Ormsby had many faults, in Grace’s opinion, but she didn’t see him as an abuser. At least not in the physical sense. “Mrs Ormsby seems genuine in her love for her husband. Why kill a man who has given her love, security, career and family, even if he dismissed her work as a hobby? As for Richard, he may not see eye to eye with his father, but he had no cause to kill him, especially as he believed he had nothing to gain financially. Henry had the financial motive, but he put on a good show of being in real fear for his life. And I really cannot see Cecilia contemplating murder simply to get her chosen suitor. It’s all quite baffling.”
Sergeant Pyke helped her down from the cab and paid the fare. “Let’s hope Charlie has a better idea after his interviews today. I expect you find it as frustrating as I do, Grace, not being present for every twist and turn of the case.”
Grace smiled at their shared understanding, having enjoyed the chance to get to know Charlie’s father better. More than anything, she felt grateful that he hadn’t told her to keep her nose out of it and leave it to the men.