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“It would be better if she spoke to the police,” I say.
“Nothing’s ever better after speaking to the police.”
Gray takes over and tries to convince the young man as I consider myoptions. This kid isn’t giving us Queen Mab, and I really need to get Gray home to tend to his injuries properly.
“Tell Queen Mab that we would like to speak to her,” I say. “Dr. Gray lives at 12 Robert Street. She could also speak to Detective Hugh McCreadie, but I wouldn’t suggest she go to the police office, in case Detective McCreadie isn’t the one she ends up speaking to. If she comes to Robert Street—or sends a message—she could meet Detective McCreadie there. I would also suggest that, before deciding against doing so, she ask after Detective McCreadie’s reputation. That may convince her to speak to him.”
The young man eyes me, and I don’t think it’s actually my word choices or speech pattern throwing him off; it’s that I don’t speak like the young woman I appear to be. I’m not a cop here. I’m a nineteen-year-old girl in a frilly dress. Even if I were twice that age, I wouldn’t talk this way, especially when my boss is right here to do the talking for us both.
The young man looks between us, and I resist the urge to defer to Gray. His silence means he approves.
“Does that work?” I ask the young man.
“Warn Queen Mab about possible trouble. Suggest she speak to Detective Hugh McCreadie at Dr. Gray’s residence at 12 Robert Street.”
“Yes, please. We appreciate you passing along the message.”
Gray’s hand slides out, a coin between his thumb and forefinger. “We do appreciate it.”
The young man waves off the money. “I’ll do this to settle my friend’s debt. If you have any other business in this neighborhood, you can ask for me at Halton House.”
“And who would we be asking for?” Gray says.
“Jack.”
“Jack…”
“Just Jack.”
“Mr. Jack?” I say.
He grins. “That’s a rather awkward way to ask the question you want answered. I expected better from you.”
“I am not asking any question that is your own private business. I am asking to be sure I use the mode of address you prefer. Mister? Miss? He? She? Something else?”
The grin grows, and he tips his hat. “Nowthatis a very polite question. Thank you. I prefer just plain Jack. As for the rest, I use she, but I do not mind he, as that is what is usually presumed when I am out dressed like this.”
“Understood,” I say. “Then good night, Jack, and thank you for your help.”
SIX
There’s no way of easily getting a message to McCreadie. I’ve always thought communication must have been difficult before the time of cell phones, but it’s damn near impossible before the time of cell phones, pagers, regular phones, and every other electronic method of contact. There’s a reason the mail here arrives multiple times per day. That doesn’t help in a situation like this, though. We must make our way back to the New Town and presume McCreadie will come along when he is able.
I want to talk about the case on the way home. I want one of Gray’s forensic-science lectures… the ones no one except me seems to appreciate. Tonight, while I’m desperate to understand the current state of toxicology, that discussion must wait. Gray is in worse shape than he let on. His labored breathing has me worried about lung damage from a punch. He assures me that the problem is only his ribs, but if he’s having trouble breathing, I shouldn’t tempt him into lecturing.
Instead, I’m the one who talks, on a subject that I’m slightly more expert in. Gray didn’t fail to miss the implications of my final discussion with Jack. He’s curious, especially when I seemed so casual about a matter that’s verboten in this world. Still, Jack wouldn’t be the first person he’s ever met who at least occasionally crosses gender lines.
Every employee in the Gray household has had brushes with the law. That’s how they end up there. Isla offers employment to those ready to start a new life, with McCreadie finding the candidates. I don’t knowall the stories, but I do know Simon’s, and Gray would, too, since it was headline news at one time.
Simon is gay, which is legally more acceptable in Scotland—which never made sodomy a capital offense—but if the law is murky, general opinion is not, and being gay is not something one is open about… unless one is an eighteen-year-old boy with more courage than common sense. Simon and a friend used to dress up as girls and go out on the town with gay men. It’s a subculture here, and I get the impression it was roleplay rather than Simon preferring a female identity.
Simon made the news when he was framed for the murder of his friend and his friend’s lover. That was all before I came along.
As for our new friend, Jack apparently identifies as “she,” so I’ll switch to that pronoun. Is she gender fluid? Or has she just decided it’s easier to make her way in the world as a young man? It’s none of my business. It just gives me a topic of conversation to keep Gray distracted until we’re back at Robert Street.
We enter the town house through the mews. Gray runs his funeral parlor out of the main floor. While there’s no sign to indicate a business, the neighbors know it’s there and aren’t exactly thrilled, even if the situation has been that way since before they moved in. I’d say to hell with them. Gray is more conciliatory, and if he’s suffering from multiple wounds and flecked in blood, he’s coming in the back way.
As we enter the courtyard, I’m reminded of one of the many things I take for granted in the modern world: lighting. We have an infinite supply of it, right at our fingertips. Are there areas of our homes where we struggle to read or see the contents of a cupboard? That’s the fault of poor lighting choices, which can either be remedied or temporarily solved with a cell-phone flashlight.
