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“Dr. Gray?” I say.
“Yes, I heard all that,” he says. “And it makes sense to me as well. At least insofar as understanding the references. Mr. Fischer seemed to be practicing his defense strategy.”
“Hmm.”
“You think he is not the killer?” Gray says.
“I think we need to finish searching his apartment before he returns.” I look at Jack. “Did he give any indication where he was going?”
“To resolve this, he said. That was all.”
“Then you should head home.”
She squares her thin shoulders. “No, I shall help. There is a lot to search, and you may not have long to search it.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
There is indeed a lot to search. Every piece of stacked furniture could have a clue taped under it or stuffed into a drawer. Gray and Jack handle that while I search Fischer’s personal belongings. There’s not much of the latter. He has a drawer of clothing, all of it similar to what I saw him wearing—well made but clearly secondhand. I find a bit of hidden money, less than Catriona had squirreled away. A pocket watch. A couple of pieces of hair jewelry—mourning souvenirs from dead relatives?
Then, between two shirts, I find folded pieces of paper. On the first is a half-written note.
You cannot do this to me. I have been a loyal partner for five years. Without me, you would be in prison now. I have done nothing to earn your mistrust nor Lord Leslie’s. He does not even know me. He has only decided I cannot be trusted and—
The note ends there. I flip to the next page. The same handwriting.
You owe me. I demand a hundred pounds, or I shall tell your pretty new wife that you are a liar and a cheat, and I shall tell all your investors that there is no cemetery, only a bog—
Again, it ends. On the third and last page:
Please, Andy. Do not do this to me. I beg of you. Tell Lord Leslie I can be trusted. Tell him that he is mistaken, and Mr. Ware suspects nothing. Do you truly believe Lord Leslie’s promises? He cheated me of my share, and now he will cheat you and James of yours. That witch plays him like a puppet. Do you not see that?
I flip through the three notes. Then I step out of the tiny area Fischer uses for his bedchamber.
“Dr. Gray?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you seen a sample of Fischer’s handwriting anywhere?”
“Yes, over here.”
Gray walks to the pile of mail at the door and hands me a piece that is clearly written by Fischer. It matches the handwriting on the letters, which I expected, but I needed to be certain.
I hand the unfinished notes to Gray.
He skims through them. “They seem to be practice letters, unsent. Mr. Fischer had been excised from the cemetery scheme. Gordon thought Mr. Ware was suspicious and did not trust Mr. Fischer to maintain his composure. From what both you and Jack said, he is a nervous sort.”
“He is. This also gives our link to Lord Leslie. He came into the scheme late, probably through Lord Primrose, and then muscled his way into a position of authority. Enough to get Fischer dropped. Does that sound like Leslie?”
“It sounds precisely like him.” Gray flips to the last letter. “This mention of a woman—”
“Mallory?” Jack says from the other side of the apartment, hidden by piles of furniture.
We both hurry to where she’s standing beside a wardrobe with one missing door. “I thought this was empty, but when I shut the bottom drawer, it caught, and in attempting to close it, I discovered a false back.”
She points to the half-open drawer. I crouch to pull it open and see what she means. What seems to be the back has come free, revealing a hidden compartment. I tug the drawer all the way out. Inside is a locked box.
“I did not touch it,” Jack says.
