thirty-five
After a night of troubled sleep, Samuel rubbed the back of his tense neck. The nightmare had left his body sore and his heart cracked. He’d wanted to stay with Vivienne through the night, but she needed rest and quiet, and he might hurt her by accident.
“Preoccupied, sir?” Richard asked, helping him don his jacket.
“Yes.” He stared at his reflection in the wall mirror.
The suit Richard had chosen was one Samuel had worn on other occasions. Best fabric, Italian cut, and well tailored. He was the rich Mr. Lyon, but the reflection lacked something that morning. Murdock was in his life again, and the oppression of an invisible cage pressed against his chest.
All his confidence seemed to vanish, or maybe the nightmare and the fact Vivienne had witnessed it had undermined his strength.
But then again, to understand who he was, living as Lion Boy had been necessary.
A knock on the door distracted him. “Samuel?” Captain Jackson peeked inside. “William is back. We need to talk.”
Samuel nodded. “Thank you, Richard.”
The fact William hadn’t been caught breaking into Dr. Tucker’s office was a good start and a testament to the footman’s skills. He would never underestimate his footman again.
Samuel entered his study, forcing himself not to show his inner turmoil.
“You know,” William said in a smug tone, “I find it curious that you two fellas asked for my help after everything you told me. After all the scolding and reprimands. After all the?—”
“Yes, but what did you find?” Captain Jackson asked.
“Well…” William went to sit down, but the captain stopped him.
“You don’t sit down when Mr. Lyon is standing.”
Samuel didn’t care, but William needed some discipline.
“Shall I remind you,” the captain said, “that without Mr. Lyon you would be in prison?”
“Fine.” William scowled. “My apologies. So the practice is obviously active. Dr. Tucker goes there every morning and leaves only to visit his patients. He started over years ago. But I found something interesting in his account book and ledger.” He lowered his voice. “Lady Huntington paid him generous sums regularly in the past years, and I’m talking about large sums of pounds.”
Samuel shrugged. “And? He’s the family physician, and officially Vivienne was sick. What’s extraordinary about that?”
“No, sir. These were large donations and too big to be the doctor’s fees. There were other toffs in his records, people who gave him hundreds of pounds as donations to build a clinic near Coventry. I did a quick search, and I didn’t find any trace of any clinic being built anywhere. No letters or contracts with builders, no layout of the building. Nothing. It’s suspicious. My father was a builder, and building something requires many of documents and blueprints and fees.”
The captain leant against the desk. “The donations would explain why Dr. Tucker didn’t want Vivienne to leave. When was the last donation from Lady Huntington?”
“Weeks ago,” William said.
“She hasn’t given him money recently,” Samuel said. “But the donations are legal.”
“Yes,” the captain said, “but if he poisons people to make them ill so that their families pour donations into his coffers to take care of them and to build a clinic that doesn’t exist, that’s fraud.”
Samuel nodded. “We have to prove he poisons his patients.”
“We should collect information on his other patients and find a pattern,” the captain said. “There must be other people who realise he’s a quack.”
“I volunteer to collect information.” William held up his hand. “I can sneak in and out of his office or into any patient’s house unseen. I’m happy to put my skills to good use.”
He smiled. “Good point.”
William beamed. Perhaps they’d found a way to keep the former thief happy while leaving innocent people alone.
“Samuel?” Vivienne’s voice came from the other side of the door.
