“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.”