“From Dr. Chadwick, as I stated. May I ask where you procuredyourkey? I would presume there are finer establishments to rob than a doctor’s office.”
She stomped her foot. “I’m not here to steal nothin’!”
“Just general threats and idle stabbings, then.”
“You’re him, aren’t ye?”
“Him who?”
“The fancy fellow that’s married to Dr. Chadwick.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “While I’ll admit I’ve never heard myself described as fancy before, I am, indeed, Dr. Chadwick’s husband. Which is why I am here, at mywife’soffice, with mywife’skey.”
The girl crossed her arms. “Where is she?”
“I am not answering any more questions until you tell me who you are and what you are doing here. You may try to stab me if you’d like,” he said mildly. “But I’d advise against it.”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?” she challenged with a jerk of her pointy chin.
“Do you see that large carriage in the street behind you?”
“What of it?”
“That happens to be my carriage, and sitting right there is my driver. In another life, he was a boxer. Quick on his feet. Fast with his fists. I don’t think he’d take kindly to the man who pays his salary being gutted on the pavement like a fish.”
The knife dropped a few inches. “My name’s Jack.”
“Jack,” he said dubiously.
“That’s right. Ye got a problem with it?”
“Not at all. Matter of fact, it suits you. All right, Jack. Dr. Chadwick sent me here to retrieve her cats. Now it’s your turn.”
“I’m here tofeedthe cats. Supposed to get a whole crown for it, too.”
Stephen scratched the nape of his neck. When Abigail had asked him to fetch her feline friends, he did not recall her saying anything about them being fed by someone else. Surely he would have remembered mention of a murderous girl dressed as a boy with a chip on her shoulder the size of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
“Who’s paying you?” he asked.
“None of yer bloody business. Now git out of my way so I can do my work and collect my blunt.”
He stepped aside when Jack shoved past him, and watched with some interest as she stuck her key in the lock and twisted it hard to the left while giving the bottom of a door a kick with her right foot. “So that’s how you do it,” he said when the door sprang open and he followed her inside before she could slam the door in his face.
Unwinding his scarf from his neck, he absently draped it on the back of a chair as out of the corner of his gaze he caught a glimpse of a sleek gray tail and a flash of gold eyes when a cat darted up the stairs. The other two were nowhere to be seen, nor did they make an appearance when Jack opened a glass jar and dumped a foul-looking mixture of chopped up fish into three small bowls.
“Lock up behind ye.” Jack shrugged, then headed for the door.
“Wait.” Ducking down, he looked under Abigail’s desk. No cats. He went to the bottom of the steps and made a clucking sound. No cats. He scanned the bookshelves. No cats. “How do I call them?”
“Call them? Ye don’tcallthem. They’re cats.” She rolled her eyes at him over her shoulder. “They’ll come out when they get hungry.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know. They’recats.”
Unfortunately, repeating the obvious did not solve his problem. With the clock ticking, he did not want to waste an entire day—or even an hour—chasing after three recalcitrant pets. He already knew that Susan hated him. What if her spite had rubbed off on the others and they were all wedged in a hidden cabinet somewhere, intent on spoiling the time hedidhave left with their mistress?
“Two crowns,” he called out, and Jack paused with her hand on the doorknob.
