Because Alex asked Rook to watch the Gilroy home, he got a report when the family was back in London. So a few days later, he dressed like an ordinary gentleman and went around to the house.
“I have some questions about the death of Miss Gilroy,” he told the maid who answered the door. “It’s important.”
“Oh,” said the maid. “I’ll see if Mrs Gilroy is at home. Please wait in the parlor, sir.”
Alex walked into the room she indicated, and stood by the fireplace to wait. Would the mother speak to him? Or would she send him away without even seeing him? It was hard to guess. Alex wasn’t using his title to gain entrance, and his official standing to investigate was murky at best.
But five minutes later, the maid reappeared in the door, her arm around the waist of an older lady dressed entirely in black.
“Mrs Gilroy,” Alex said, bowing politely.
“How do you do…Mr Kenyon, is it?” She sat down on one of the chairs, and indicated that Alex should be seated as well. “Marie tells me you wish to speak to me about my Susanna.”
“Yes, ma’am. I realize it’s a difficult time.”
“What is your interest in her death?” she asked bluntly.
Alex took a breath. “In short, I hope to prevent another death.”
“Is that so?” She turned to Marie, who hadn’t left yet. “Bring some tea in for our guest and me.”
Marie left, and Mrs Gilroy turned her attention to him again. Alex felt her appraisal. She saw his eyepatch, his clothes, his demeanor, and she was certainly alert enough to notice that he was not official at all.
“Who do you hope to save?” she asked.
Alex could have explained the truth. He only had hints and guesses and he had no idea who the next victim would be. But that would not matter to this woman, who was in deep mourning for her daughter. He had to make this story personal.
“I’m married,” he began slowly. “And my wife may be in similar circumstances to your late daughter.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs Gilroy said, her expression disturbed. “Has she been to the moon doctor as well? Is she a believer?”
“I’m…I’m not sure,” said Alex. “Can you tell me a little bit about the moon doctor?” Including, he hoped, what the devil a moon doctor was.
“Doctor Fermier, he calls himself.” The lady sniffed. “Every full moon—and new moon too, I think—he gathers his patients and conducts his so-called cures. Pure quackery! And not godly in the least. My Susanna had been ill for months, and even as it got worse, she returned to Fermier again and again, convinced that he could cure her. He said it was science, of course. He’ll produce any number of drawings and proofs that look very impressive and explain absolutely nothing. I went the first time, and never set foot in his office again. But Susanna was convinced that the skies could save her. She refused to listen to reason, though I pleaded with her to stay home and trust in Providence.”
“My wife draws pictures of the moon,” Alex said musingly.
Mrs Gilroy shook her head sadly. “Then she is likely under the spell of this doctor, too. You must keep her from attending the next cure! Susanna was killed on her way home from one of those gatherings. The authorities said it was just bad luck—a drunk or a madman who seized the chance to steal from a lady. But then why was there that hideous mark left beside her body? It’s connected. I know it, but the authorities won’t listen to me. They see only a grieving woman, and dismiss my words.”
“They won’t dismiss mine,” Alex said firmly. “And if there is a connection between the killing and this so-called doctor, I’ll make sure he never practices a cure again.”
“Bless you for trying. I never trusted him!”
“You think she might have been followed from Fermier’s office?” Alex asked. “Perhaps the doctor’s customers are known to be wealthy.”
“I don’t know. All I know is that my loving, precious child became a nervous wreck in the last months of her life. Obsessed with the phases of the moon and the stars in the sky. Is that true of your wife?”
“She stargazes every chance she gets,” Alex said, with complete honesty.
“If you care for her, you’ll get her well away from London,” Mrs Gilroy advised.
“As soon as I can,” he promised. “But now I’ll go to this Fermier’s office and learn who he really is.”
Mrs. Gilroy gave him the street name of where the doctor practiced his trade, and implored him to be careful. Alex left the house and went toward the shabbier part of London, where his next quarry was.
It was not hard to find Doctor Fermier’s place of business. He had large posters pasted on the walls of his building, advertising the “moon cure” for nearly all ills. Safe! Scientific! Praised by the royal houses of Europe!
Alex sneered. He doubted very much that any royal would dare put their name to this man’s work. He knocked loudly on the door, then pounded on it again after a moment. “Open up!” he ordered.
The door jerked open, and a short, stooped-back man peered up at him. “What is the matter with you, sir! I do not have office hours until after three.”
“I’m here now,” Alex said. “So now is when you’ll talk to me.”
“Can’t fix your eye,” the man said. “Sorry!” He tried to close the door.
Alex put his shoulder in the way, and the man stumbled back from the force. “My eye does not concern me. Shall we go up to your office?” He stepped in and turned the key in the lock.
“Very well.” Fermier led him up a narrow staircase and down a short hall to a large room.
Alex stopped short, not expecting what he found. The room wasn’t shabby like the rest of the building. It was bright, with a glass frame set in the ceiling, where the sun shone down by day and the moon would do so at night. The rest of the ceiling and the walls were beautifully painted in a rich, dark blue to mimic the night sky. Little white stars lay scattered across the surface. It was lovingly done, and extremely effective.
The room contained many chairs, all arranged in circles around the empty center of the room. A few couches were pushed against the walls.
The doctor walked to the center, and swept his hand around. “Sit anywhere you like. On the night of the full moon, it’s standing room only.”
“This is where you conduct your cures?”
“Yes, yes.” The doctor crossed his arms. “What brings you here? You’re no believer.”
“That obvious?” Alex asked. “I’m here to ask about Susanna Gilroy.”
“Dear Lord,” the doctor said, with a sigh. He sank down onto a chair. “Have you not heard? She’s dead, the poor child.”
“Her mother says she was killed immediately after attending one of your gatherings.”
“Oh, no!” The doctor glared at Alex. “I held no gathering on the night she died. It wasn’t the full moon, or the new moon!”
“But she attended here on those days?”
“Yes, yes. But it’s useless to pester me. I couldn’t save her from the disease that she suffered from, and I certainly had nothing to do with the madman who killed her on the street. Horrible business.”
“What disease?”
“A murmur in her heart, I suspect. One that worsened as she aged.”
“Are you a real doctor, then? Licensed?”
“I attended medical college in Paris, but I became disgusted with the practices of modern medicine. Treating a person as a mere machine, with no attention to the many influences on a human life that affect health. So I left. But I still recognize signs of illness when I see them.”
“So you diagnosed Miss Gilroy.”
Fermier shook his head. “She already knew when she first came here. And before you ask, she’d been to several other doctors, who could do nothing more for her, despite their scalpels and pills. So don’t look at me and call my practice barbaric!”
“I didn’t.”
“Ah, but you would. I can smell a skeptic from a hundred paces. They sneak into my gatherings, prepared to laugh and mock. But I’ve helped my patients!”
“How?” Alex asked him.
“You want a detailed explanation of the link between the moon, gravity, and the tides of the world as well as within the human body? I doubt it. But there is an established pattern of human physiology and the moon’s phases. By balancing and adjusting these tides, tremendous progress can be made in patients. Particularly for those who suffer from diseases of the mind and spirit, which no scalpel can cure. Melancholia, manias, nightmares…I have cured people of all of these.”
“For a hefty price,” Alex guessed.
“Three pennies per person, per gathering.” Fermier wrinkled his nose. “I’m a doctor, not a thief.”
“Did you believe you could cure Miss Gilroy?”
“I believed I could ease her suffering. I don’t claim to offer immortality. She came here for several months, and she felt better when she left. Is that not worth three pennies?”
“How exactly does the cure work?” Alex asked.
“You may attend the next gathering and see for yourself. I have no time to educate you in my methods.”
“Mrs Gilroy calls you a quack. She thinks you were after money.”
“People will believe what they like. But if she feared for her daughter, she would have done better to confront Mr Hanchett.”
Something in Alex went cold. “Tell me about him.”
“He’s a fortune teller in town, with some sort of club for those who pay,” Fermier said. “Miss Gilroy went to him, as well. Not for a cure, but to know her future, poor girl. She was fearful of death, and Hanchett must have told her something she wanted to hear, because she went on and on about him.”
“You called him a fortune teller. I should talk to him,” Alex said.
“Oh, now you want your cards read?”
“I want to know what he told Miss Gilroy, and why he didn’t predict her murder.”
“Good question!” The doctor snorted in derision. “Those frauds give people like me a bad name! Come back and tell me what he says.”
“So you didn’t encourage her to go to him.”
“If she wanted to give her money away, she could have distributed it to the poor. Better use of it, I say.”
“One more question. Was one of your patients a man named Warner Mason?” Alex remembered the papers on astrology Mason owned
The doctor frowned. “The name is not familiar. But that may not mean much. Many times, people come to the gathering but don’t introduce themselves.”
Alex described him, but Fermier just shook his head. “No, no. That’s too general. I’m not saying he wasn’t here, mind you. But I can’t recall that name or face.”
If he was telling the truth, which Alex thought he was, the connection between victims was not their interest in the moon cure. Alex thanked the man and left. He almost laughed at how irate the moon doctor was at the idea of fortune tellers. It seemed everyone was convinced that their own ideas were perfectly logical, while everyone else was deluded.
Yet wasn’t that exactly how all people thought? No one ever embraced an idea they thought silly. And no one liked to admit that they made a mistake. So they looked at the moon and the stars, desperate to find the answers to their questions.
And then there were the people eager to help answer those questions, like Hanchett. Alex was getting a very bad feeling about the man. Though he had no hard evidence, he suspected that Hanchett was the key to the whole mystery surrounding these deaths. Maybe he wasn’t the killer, but it was time to learn more about him. As soon as Alex got some rest.
He went home to Violet. She smiled at him in a way that made up for nearly all the frustrations of the past days and weeks.
“I waited for you,” she said. “I hoped you’d dine with me, and stay in tonight.”
He returned her smile. “As it happens, that was precisely my plan.”
“Excellent.” Violet stepped up to him. The star sapphire shone at her throat. She put a hand on his arm, drawing him closer. “Everything has been so odd, and I know that you have so much on your mind. But Susanna’s death in particular has made me realize how very happy I am right now. I don’t want to forget that, no matter what is happening in the world.” She gave a little sigh. “Would you put the investigation aside, just for tonight?”
“I will try.” Alex put his arms around her. “Until tomorrow, I won’t say a word about it.”