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“I do not care whether you are interested in his studies or feigning it, Catriona. Most people in this life are not doing work they enjoy and no one expects them to. You are, as you said, actually helping him, and that is enough for me… unless that is not how you are trying to better yourself.”
I lean against the counter. “I don’t understand.”
She meets my gaze. “Truly? You jump when Dr. Gray calls. You trip over yourself to prove your worth to him. You take an interest in his studies to the point of reading his books in your spare time. And you spend the night chasing poisoners with him, never complaining once that you need to be abed. That is not the Catriona I know.”
She lifts her hands. “Before you say that you aren’t that Catriona, I do not believe your story that you have lost your memory. I would, however, be willing to forgive the lie if you only wish to reconsider your choices and do better. And if doing better means a position as Dr. Gray’s assistant and nothing more.”
“Nothing…” I slump back. “You think I want to marry him.”
She snorts. “Marry him? If that is your plan, you had best return to being Catriona now and save yourself the trouble. Yes, I know you come from a family good enough that such a union would only be unusual. But if you have made the mistake of thinking Dr. Gray is in desperate need of a wife, on account of any qualities that might make decent women reject him…”
“I have no doubt Dr. Gray could get himself a respectable wife anytime he wanted.”
She relaxes. “Good. Do not deceive yourself on that count.”
“If you don’t think I’m aiming to be his wife, then you think…? Ah, his mistress. I suppose that’s a more reasonable goal.”
“It would be if you were ten years older,” she says tartly. “And age is only one of the many qualities you lack in that regard. You are young and pretty, and you think that will be enough. It is not. Dr. Gray does not dally with mere girls.”
“So I’ve been told, which is one reason I’m comfortable working with him. I know he doesn’t want anything untoward from me.”
She says nothing to that, only finishes fixing the tray, complete with two plates and two teacups. I meet her gaze and take down another plate and teacup for myself, all the while braced against her complaint.
“I will ask what time Dr. Gray would like breakfast,” I say.
I pick up the tray and leave, feeling her gaze on me and all the judgment that it carries.
TWENTY-SIX
This time, Gray examines the body before Addington arrives… or he does so after McCreadie and I convince him that he doesn’t aid the investigation by waiting. Gray can do his internal exam post-autopsy, but before that, he can help Addington by preparing the body. That means undressing Ware, which allows him to conduct a more thorough external examination. McCreadie stays long enough to have his bite to eat, and then he has to leave, and Gray and I examine the body together.
I ask questions about the gout. I’ve heard of it—it’s still a condition in the twenty-first century—but I know nothing about it, and Mrs. Hamilton’s comments led me to think it might be connected to food, which could be what killed Mr. Ware.
“It is believed that a rich diet contributes to it,” Gray says as he examines Mr. Ware’s perfectly manicured fingernails. “But it is an arthritic condition, not an intestinal one, and it would not have killed him. From what Mrs. Hamilton said, I believe it was a more acute poisoning than the others. That will be clearer in the autopsy.”
“By examining the internal organs.”
“Correct.” He glances up. “Is it different in your time?”
“Not really. We have more methods for identifying poison, but you still start with the autopsy and then send tissue samples to the lab.” I glance up at him. “How does that work here? You have Isla right upstairs. Do the police offices have a laboratory on site?”
“Hardly. In a case of poisoning, the tissues must be delivered to an expert. That may require sending the entire stomach through the mail.”
“Through the…?” I shake my head, unable to imagine packaging up organs and loading them onto a horse-drawn mail coach.
“As Isla has pointed out, criminal poison cases are much rarer than people seem to think. There are only a handful of experts in detecting it. Isla learned it… Well, you ought to ask her how she gained her expertise.”
“I will. Thank you. Is it okay if I take a print from Ware’s fingers? I want to compare it to the one on the box.”
He jerks up from his work. “Of course. I had not thought of that. Yes, we must do that right away. What will you need?”
“The very thing you accused me of making such messes with earlier. Except now I get to make a mess with it on purpose.”
His eyes glitter. “Ink.”
We roll ink on Ware’s finger and then onto paper. I show Gray what I’m looking for as identifiers.
“Not that we still need to do this back home,” I say. “The tech takes the print and runs it through a computer that looks for a match. I actually learned fingerprinting as a kid. I had a kit and there was one summer where I fingerprinted everything.”
