Page 26 of The Orphan of Cemetery Hill
A carriage clipped past them, sending dust and gravel spraying, and Caleb took Miss O’Reilly by the elbow, leading her away from the curb. “Have you checked her home? Spoken with Mr. Cooke?”
Scowling, Miss O’Reilly removed her elbow from his hold. “Of course I did! That was the first place I looked. Eli said that she went out to make some calls and never returned. He’s sick with worry for her.”
Caleb leaned back against the brick wall of a building and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of rattling carts and pedestrian chatter wash over him. God, what had Tabby gone and done? He should have known after she had pledged not to get involved the first time when he was in prison that she would do what she wanted regardless of her assurances otherwise.
When he opened his eyes, he found that Miss O’Reilly was studying him with a suspicious glare. “Yes?”
“You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
“What, that she’s missing? You thinkIhad something to do with it?”
Miss O’Reilly didn’t answer his question. “What, exactly, are your intentions with Tabby?”
“My intentions?” He let out a little laugh, sure that Miss O’Reilly was in jest. But one look at her stony expression told him she was anything but. He cleared his throat. “Tabby is a fine girl, but I don’t know that I have any intentions toward her. What do you take me for, a shameless rake?”
Miss O’Reilly’s expression did not soften at this, if anything, her green eyes grew only stormier. “I see,” she said in clipped tones. “Well, Mr. Bishop, let me tell you something. Tabby is more than just a ‘fine girl.’ Tabby is my heart outside of my body, my sweetest, dearest friend. I’ve heard about your exploits from more than one broken-hearted girl.” At this, she threw a pointed look at the club across the street and Caleb felt like a chastened little boy caught pilfering sweets from the kitchen. “I know you were released from prison, though you are still a suspect in Rose Hammond’s murder. If I hear so much as awhisperof your name in association with Tabby, I promise you I will not hesitate to make sure you end up back in prison, where you belong.”
With that, Miss O’Reilly turned neatly on her boot heel, and swept down the street, mindless of the children that scattered from her path and the dust that her skirts kicked up.
Caleb watched her disappear into the busy afternoon foot traffic. How could everyone think him capable of such dark, nefarious deeds? When had he ever shown a disposition for such things?
The thrill of winning at cards had quickly worn off, and now he was consumed only with thoughts of where Tabby might have gotten to. Miss O’Reilly might have suspected him, butheknew that he had nothing to do with it, and that meant that Tabby was somewhere out there. It was no use going to the cemetery or the boarding house—Miss O’Reilly would have already scoured both places. At least at home he could dash off a few inquiries and make a plan. But he had to admit that Miss O’Reilly was right: he really didn’t have any claim over Tabby Cooke. Hadn’t he told her as much when she had insisted on helping him? He had told Miss O’Reilly that he had no intentions toward Tabby, yet the thought of her with a man—any man—made his chest twist. It was a hot, unpleasant feeling, and he did not care for it. Of course, he hoped she was just with a man and not in any sort of trouble, but that didn’t make the thought any more palatable.
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he was almost upon the group of men standing outside his front steps before he even noticed them. At the sound of his footsteps, one of the men turned and Caleb’s heart sank as he recognized the constable. “Mr. Bishop, we were just talking about you.”
Behind him, his mother was standing on the steps, wringing her hands, her cap askew as if she had thrown it on in a hurry. Several curious neighbors hovered by their front doors, craning their necks to see what was happening.
“Is that so?” Caleb jammed his hands in his pockets, feigning a casualness that he did not feel at the sight of so many uniformed men. “And how may I be of service? Have you made some progress in Miss Hammond’s case?”
“Well, yes, we do have some new information regarding the matter.”
Caleb let out a breath of relief. “What is it?”
“Does this look familiar, Mr. Bishop?”
The earring the constable held out did look familiar. Caleb had given Rose just such a set of earrings and a matching necklace when he had proposed to her. “That’s Rose’s earring,” he said.
The constable and officers shared a look, and Caleb caught sight of a pair of irons in one of the policeman’s hands. They couldn’t possibly be here for him, could they? Whitby had assured him that he was a free man until his trial, that there probably wouldn’t evenbea trial if they continued to investigate other possible suspects. “We found this in your parlor, shoved beneath the cushion of a chair.”
At this, his mother couldn’t contain herself any longer. She hurried to the bottom of the steps, as fast as her voluminous black skirts would allow, shaking her fist. “These men just forced their way in! I tried to stop them, but they are unmannered beasts!”
“I...” Caleb trailed off, the blue jewel winking at him in the afternoon sun. “I don’t know how that got there,” he said weakly. “But she was my fiancée, for God’s sake—you can hardly fault me for being in possession of a piece of her jewelry!”
He racked his brain, trying to think how the earring had found its way into his parlor. He supposed Rose might have dropped it during one of her visits, but Larson or Betty the housemaid would have surely found it before now. Rose had never mentioned having lost it. Glancing down the street, he wondered if he ran fast enough if he’d be able to chase down a passing carriage and catch a ride to freedom.
As if reading his thoughts, the constable raised his palms in a placating gesture. “Now, Mr. Bishop, no use making it harder than it has to be. Come with us willingly and I’ll even ask Smith here not to use the irons.”
The man named Smith looked a little disappointed, but Caleb nodded. The last thing he wanted was to further agitate his mother by ending up under a pile of burly policemen. “Lead away, Constable.”
As the officer’s hand clamped around Caleb’s arm, it was not the prospect of returning to prison that made his heart plummet in dread, but the thought that Tabby was somewhere out there, missing, and he was powerless to do anything about it.
14
IN WHICH IT MAY BE TOO LATE.
“MISS COOKE!” THEguard stationed at the front desk sprang up from his seat as soon as she set foot inside the old prison. “What a pleasure to see you again!”
Tabby stopped in her tracks. Officer Hodsdon. His boyish enthusiasm at seeing her was at odds with the dreary walls and musty smell of the old building. “I’ve come to see Mr. Bishop,” she said, trying to ignore the heavy staleness in the air, the muffled shouts that came from somewhere deep within the bowels of the prison.
