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“Information on the case? From Dr. Gray, I presume, and his friend, Detective McCreadie?”
“Yes.”
“You seem to be wanting a lot from me, Miss Mallory,” she says, leaning against the front desk. “First contact with that other person and now contact with this person.”
“I’m offering both something in return. For the first, protection. For the second, information.”
“Mmm, yes, but I have the feeling what you’re asking for is worth more to you.” She leans a hip against the desk. “Or at least to your employer, Dr. Gray, whose sister…” Her gaze turns to Isla. “Ah. Now I understand why you brought your friend. Lady Leslie, I presume?”
“You presume wrong,” Isla says flatly.
“She’s a chemist,” Elspeth says. “Or so she claims.”
“Well, then, that would make you theothersister, wouldn’t it? The widowed one.” Jack pauses. “Or I suppose that no longer distinguishes you from Lady Leslie.”
Isla says nothing.
“Lady Leslie,” Jack muses, “who stands accused of murdering her husband with poison. Lady Leslie, who has a chemist for a sister. I am surprised no one has made that connection yet.”
I’m in front of Isla before she can blink, and my shoulder smacks against Simon’s, as he moves in just as quickly.
“No,” I say. “If that connection is made by your broadsheet writer friend, then I will presume it came from you, and that would be ill-advised.”
Her brows shoot up. “Is that a threat?”
“I’d prefer not. Threats are rude, and they set a discussion on an adversarial path. Rather like threatening my employer does.”
“I agree with all that,” Simon says. “If the connection is made, it had best not be made by that particular writer.”
“Nor anything about our groom,” Isla says. “And his misfortunes.”
Jack raises her hands. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. The connectionwillbe made, though. Perhaps it is best for you to make it yourself. Speak to my writer friend for an exclusive interview.”
When Isla stiffens, I say, “You do realize you’re speaking to the sister of the woman who has been accused of murder. Mrs. Ballantyne’s brother-in-law died last night. She is not a witness who happened to see a crime. She is the family of both the deceased and the accused.”
“All right. My friend can interview Dr. Gray then.”
“How is that different?” I meet her eyes. “Because he is a man and therefore better able to handle such an interview?”
She flaps her hand again. “All right, all right. But I daresay Mrs. Ballantyne here might change her mind when the news does come out. I can promise my friend will conduct a fair and honest interview.”
“There is no such thing,” I say. “Not when the sharks smell blood in the water.”
“Sharks? You have no liking for the fine profession of newspaper reporting, Miss Mallory?”
“I have moderate respect for newspaper reporters who have proven they can be trusted. In my experience, though, the words ‘fair and honest’ are a lure, tempting those desperate to set the story straight. Rather like police officers promising to be fair and honest with suspects eager to settheirstory straight. I begrudge neither their right to pursue their profession. It doesn’t mean I want to chum the waters for them.”
“You say what you think, don’t you, Miss Mallory? Am I to guess then that you would rather I leave your employers and your fellow servant out of this and deal with you directly? Make my bargain with you?”
“Yes.”
“All right then. I will give you what you want in return for a fight.” Jack waves toward the basement door. “From what I heard, you know what goes on here.”
“Knows?” Elspeth snorts. “She wants toseeit.”
“Well, this is your lucky night, Miss Mallory. You not only get to see it but join in the fun. We’ve got a boy down there, new to the art of fighting. Take him on in the ring and—win or lose—I will convey your offer to my writerly friend.”
“You want…” Isla sputters. “You want Mallory tofight?”
