“Confound it, man, spit it out!”
“Hiram refused to take it to a judge, and Denton was-”
“Released?” Alastair pulled himself up with every intention of getting out of bed, but Fenger and Drimmer sat on him, Christian calling for his attendants, Shanks and Gwinn, just outside the door, to help restrain Alastair, who kept repeating the single word, “Released? Released! But how? How in the world?”
When Gwinn and Shanks grabbed hold of Ransom, they did so with glee. Shoved away, the two women watched the attendants strap Alastair down. The big man on the bed hadn’t a chance, but even so, he lashed out, kicked, and shouted, “Get your grubby, dirty grave-robbing ghouls off me, Christian! Christian!”
“You’re damned determined to rip your stitches!” Fenger countered. “Now settle down or we’ll have to keep those restraints on you!”
Alastair replied with his angry eyes that went from side to side, staring at his hands locked now in horse-hide straps. “You got me in one of your nutcase wards, Christian? Like I’m a candidate for your asylum?”
“Not at all, you fool! The restraints are on every bed in emergency recovery. To keep you still, and to protect you from your worst enemy.”
“Some friend you turned out to be. And you, Griffin! How could you let this happen? You and that idiot Kehoe? And just how much input came from Nathan Kohler? This has got to be another of his nasty games to make me look incompetent.”
Griffin nervously said, “In fact, Alastair, they’re holding hearings about your competence right now, and I stood up for you, gave you good marks!”
Ransom stared at his partner. “My comeuppence hearings, heh?”
“The jury’s still out on you,” he warned.
Alastair raged. “Do you hear it, Jane?”
Jane pleaded for calm. “Your stitches.”
“Hang the stitches!”
“Your constitution, then, your stomach and peace of mind.”
“Hang it all! I catch a multiple murderer, and they let him go so that Nathan can nail me to the cross? The bastard!”
“I’m sorry, Rance,” countered Griff. “Did all I could, I tell you. I pleaded with Hiram Kehoe not to let Denton go, but in truth, there’s very little to tie him to the killings save what is inside your head, Rance.”
“Did you search him for the weapon? The garrote?”
“Yes, and one was found but-”
“But what? What else does Hiram want, damn it?”
“He said every criminal and prostitute in the city owns a garrote.”
“But the angle of the cut, how small we thought the killer was according to the undeniable angle of the cut…all this we did not release to anyone-and the two handprints?”
“I made a comparison of the handprints to Denton’s,” said Fenger.
“And?”
“Inconclusive; couldn’t say without a doubt that it was Denton’s hand.”
“Maybe you need a new microscope?”
“Damn it, man. There were too many variables even under magnification.”
Griff added, “We can begin surveillance, build a case.”
“But the garrote! We have a case!”
“You yourself said the diamond garrote is fairly easy to purchase,” countered Griff. “Kehoe pulled forth three garroting wires, all three with double-wire crisscrossed centers. They’re as easily had as pocketknives, cheap handguns, and opium.”
Alastair’s consternation showed in his strained features. “Are you saying that the prosecutor determined that Denton is more likely a prostitute than a murderer?”
“On having interviewed Denton, he came to the conclusion that he might well be a male prostitute, yes, and he is not choosy as to which sex so long as he is paid his price.”
“Fast-talking weasel-bastard convinced Kehoe he’s a harmless male prostitute?”
“My God,” interjected Jane, “if that’s true, then what must Mr. Kehoe think of our having him in for tea?”
Ransom ignored this and spoke to Griffin. “At least Griff here knows we had in hand-had-the right man before the fools turned him loose. May God blind me!”
“Well yes, I mean, hell yes…” sputtered Griff. “…did believe it firmly at the time when we…when-”
“Did? Did believe it when? And when did you change your mind, and why?”
“I believe that you believe it with all the sincerity of-”
“Get out!”
“What?”
“Get out of here and take your sincerity garbage with you, Griffin; and whatever else you do, put in for a change of partners!”
“I will not, Rance. I tell you, I’m standing by you. God only knows why, but I want to help prove your side of it, and I will.”
“Do so, then, but do it elsewhere!” He yanked and fought his restraints like a bull with its horns sheared to dull nubs.
Griffin, ever the shrewd one, sensed it time to leave, and he did so quietly and quickly. Shanks and Gwinn held vigil at the door like a pair of guards. “And you, Christian, how can you justify strapping me to a bed! If you won’t untie me now, then take yourself and your two eunuchs off with you”-he paused to catch his breath-“and by damn, get the hell outta my sight.”
Jane immediately leaned in over him, literally in his face. “That is enough, Alastair Ransom!” she shouted. “This man saved your life with his hands and his skill, so you will not address him in that tone!”
“Jane, the man has a right to his anger,” countered Dr. Fenger. “After all, he’s been hurt, along with his pride, shot and nearly killed in an effort to bring in a killer, and all for naught.”
“Of course, but still-”
“Imagine it,” continued Dr. Fenger, “if our friend here is correct about Denton? Then that foul-minded gargoyle is just biding his time before he must kill again to feed a satanic appetite.”
“Then you grasp my point!” said Alastair.
“Grasp it, yes, but you fail to grasp mine!”
“Which is?”
“Yes, murder has become his addiction, his obsession, but what of you?”
“What of me?”
“What of your obsession? Will it drive you to kill yourself, literally, here and now? Bed rest and attention to your wounds! That is called for. That is what you need to obsess on right now.”
“You can stop worrying about me. I’m fine!”
“Nonsense! If your wound were to go the way of gangrene-” Fenger stopped, sighing. “Alastair, at your age…well then, Shanks and Gwinn will happily see you to your grave this time for sure.”
Ransom settled, no longer pulling at his restraints. “All right, remove these leather shackles of yours, Doctor, and you’ve my word.”
“Your word?”
“That I’ll not make any attempt at finding my clothes.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“We’re friends. Would I lie to a friend, Christian?”
“I cannot imagine you lying there unrestrained with so much venom pumping through that fevered brain,” replied Fenger, his eyes going from Ransom to Jane. “No, sorry, my friend. I’ll not remove the restraints, not till I see a good measure more healing.”
“It’s a nasty wound, Alastair,” added Jane.
“Come on, Christian!” he shouted at the doctor’s back as Fenger goose-stepped from the room. “Christian! Live up to your bloody name! Christian! A little charity, if you will!”
Nothing. No turnaround, no slowing, no response.
“Jane, you’ll listen to reason, won’t you?”
“I am a reasonable person, and I think it time I took Gabrielle home. She’s missed schooling over this, but first my daughter has something to say to you.”
He looked into Gabby’s eyes, filled now with tears. “I am so sorry I fired on you. It just all happened so fast and, and, and…”
“You frightened us to wit’s end.” Jane pulled wrinkles from the sheet covering him, tucking it here and there. “But I had thought the gun unloaded.”
“I might’ve killed you,” continued Gabby, gasping, “just when…just when I was beginning to like you.”
“It’s all right, child. As the bard says, ‘All’s well that ends well.’”
“But it hasn’t ended well. You are seriously injured. You may have pain in your innards for the rest of your life due to this injury. You may walk with a limp.”