Page 54 of The Orphan of Cemetery Hill
“You two go to the Graham house,” Mary-Ruth ordered after Mr. Cooke had gone back inside. “There are some places around the city I can look, and some people to talk to who might know something,” she added cryptically.
Caleb didn’t like the idea of letting her go off by herself, even if she did seem to be a woman of unusual boldness. What if she ran afoul of the same men who were after Tabby?
Mary-Ruth must have seen the conflicting emotions on his face, because she scowled and said, “I know this city backward and forward, and if anyone can find Tabby, it’s me.”
There was no use arguing with her; besides, she said this with such conviction that he couldn’t help but trust her.
He nodded and watched her hurry down the hill as he and Alice boarded the hack.
What, exactly, would they do when they found Tabby? The best case was that she was simply out of town, staying safe and far away from Mr. Whitby. But he had a feeling that it would not be the best case. Deep inside, he knew that something was very, very wrong.
30
INTO THE LION’S DEN.
“THEY’LL ARREST YOU,you know,” Alice told him as they took the brick steps up to the front of the Graham house.
“I know.”
“You won’t do Tabby much good with a noose around your neck.”
Caleb swiped an impatient hand through his unwashed hair before replacing his hat. “And what, exactly, do you propose I do?”
Alice didn’t say anything, just pressed her lips together in disapproval as Caleb slammed the brass knocker harder than was strictly necessary.
“What do you know about Mary-Ruth?” Alice asked as they waited.
“Miss O’Reilly?” Caleb frowned. He knew that she guarded Tabby like a precious jewel and that she did not care for him, but that was about all. “She’s a friend of Tabby’s. Does something with corpses, if I’m not mistaken.”
He was about to ask her why she was interested, when the door opened and revealed a clean-shaven man of about forty in a black mourning suit. He raised a brow, no doubt taking in Caleb’s unkempt appearance and Alice’s travel-worn dress. “Yes?”
Time was of the essence, and it seemed silly to cling to manners and convention, but if there was one language that men of his class understood, it was that of etiquette and manners. Caleb pasted on an apologetic expression and gave him his most winning smile. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to trouble you, but I believe that you employed a young woman about a month ago to watch a Mr. Graham. I am trying to find her as my uncle is not long for this world, and my aunt specifically requested the services of Miss Cooke.”
The man gave him an assessing look, flicked another glance at Alice, and then nodded. “Yes, she was here with my father when he passed.” The man paused. “But as you said yourself, that was a month ago. I have not the slightest clue where you would find her now.”
Caleb’s heart sank. What had he expected? That the man would know exactly where Tabby had gone after and where she was right now? “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “And for imposing on you during this sad time.”
The man shrugged, and was just about to close the door when he paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Do you know, you’re the second person to come looking for her. I wonder if there’s not something going around Boston and her services are in high demand. God help us if it’s the yellow fever again.”
Caleb froze. “Who...who was looking for her?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
But the man didn’t seem to hear Caleb’s question. He was looking at him with unnerving scrutiny. “You look extraordinarily familiar. Have we met?”
Damn those broadsheets advertising Caleb’s escape that Mr. Cooke had mentioned. Caleb flicked his tongue over his dry lips. “I believe we’re neighbors. We have probably passed each other in the street a dozen times and then some.”
The man was still staring at him. “Yes,” he murmured. “I suppose that is it.”
Before Caleb could say anything else, the door closed and the man disappeared. Alice shook her head. “I’d say we only have a matter of days, if not hours, before word gets out that you’re back in the city and the police come looking for you.”
Caleb stopped halfway down the steps, a thought striking him. “The police—that’s it!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on,” said Caleb, taking her by the elbow and practically dragging her the rest of the way down. “We’re going to have to go into the lion’s den.”
They stood outside the police station, their breaths coming out in white puffs in the chill air.
“Are you sure you want to go inside? You could wait out here while I make inquiries.”
