Page 70 of Disturbing the Dead
I glance over. “Does that make sense?”
“Unfortunately, yes. We have already heard Lord Muir’s opinions on Mrs. King and her studies. He does not believe in higher education for women. Yet he has no standing in the medical or university communities.”
“Sir Alastair does.”
“He does indeed. I think, then, that as much as we would like to leave Lady Christie to her grief, we need to better understand the full state of the relationship between Lord Muir and Sir Alastair.”
When we ask to speak to Lady Christie, it’s clear the maid disapproves. Then fate intervenes, in the form of a handsome and charming police detective, who is terribly sorry that we need to intrude on Lady Christie’s time of grief, but it really is important, and she may take all the time she needs to prepare. We will wait quietly in the music room.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say to McCreadie. “I think she was going to refuse to even check with Lady Christie.”
“At least I am good for something,” McCreadie says as he falls into a chair with a deep sigh. “I am contemplating retirement, as it seems my services are no longer required. First Mrs. King and now Lord Muir, everyone calling upon my consulting detective instead of the actual detective. Why, even in those tales of your heroic adventures, I barely warrant a line or two.”
“Who told you that?” I say.
“One of my men found copies, and I read them over breakfast. I think I receive four mentions in nearly fifty pages.”
“You—you have them?” I say. “And you haven’t shared them with us?”
“I know you are not interested, and so I burned them after reading.” He catches my glare. “They are with Simon, awaiting your return. Now you, Miss Mallory, receive ten times the ink I do. The golden-haired maiden with womanly curves and eyes like sapphires, lips like a rosebud, voice like a songbird.”
I snort. “Now I know you’re joking. Catriona might have the hair, eyes, and curves, but this is not the voice of a songbird.”
“Oh, but that is what it says in the stories. Over and over. I believe the writer is quite smitten with you. Or simply trying to enlarge his male readership. At least you get flattery. Do you know what he calls me? One adjective, mentioned every bloody time he pens my name. ‘Vigorous.’”
“‘Vigorous’?”
“Yes, ‘vigorous.’ What does that even mean?”
“Full of energy.”
“Yes, yes, I know that. But how does it apply to a person?”
“It applies to a man, and it means he is…” I waggle my brows. “Vigorous.”
McCreadie sputters.
I smile. “Do not be too quick to presume the writer is male. Whoever it is, they find you very…” Another brow waggle. “Vigorous.”
Gray clears his throat. “Before Lady Christie arrives, perhaps we should tell Hugh what we have discovered and why we are speaking to the widow.”
“Don’t you hate it when he’s reasonable?” I say to McCreadie.
“You think it is bad now?” McCreadie says. “Try having a friend who is that reasonable when he is still a child. There was no mischief to be had. Not at all.”
“Not even digging up dead bodies?” I ask.
“That was his idea, which made it acceptable.” He turns to Gray. “All right. We are done now. Tell me what has happened.”
TWENTY-THREE
While we’re talking, the maid pops her head in to say it will be at least twenty minutes, as the mistress was asleep. She obviously hopes we’ll return later, but we promise to wait. That gives us more time to confer.
McCreadie agrees about the letter Muir saw. It isn’t proof that Selim took these artifacts or the ones that went missing before. It does, however, mean we need to investigate him. As for Muir pressuring Sir Alastair to oppose the Edinburgh Seven…
“That makes sense of some correspondence I found,” McCreadie says. “Before I received your message, I was reading through business correspondence from Sir Alastair’s office. There was some rather heated back-and-forth between him and Lord Muir that I put aside to follow up on. It mentioned ‘the young women’ and Sir Alastair fretting that Lady Christie and Phoebe might find out. Out of context, I thought it might suggest affairs, though it would seem odd to worry about his young daughter discovering that. This makes far more sense. His wife and daughter were in Egypt while he was speaking against the medical students, but the more he spoke up, the greater the chance they’d hear about it on their return.”
“Yeah, they wouldn’t have been happy,” I say. “My sense is that Lady Christie would be disappointed, and Phoebe would be furious.”
