to talk to him if the other asked him? Perhaps he thought it was the only way to solve things. Or the other forced his way into the house with threats.’
Alkmene pursed her lips. ‘Ms Steinbeck wasn’t there that night either, she says. Maybe her uncle sent her away to meet with the man from the theatre?’
Dubois nodded. ‘Could be. I heard Norwhich was supposed to have gone with her to a concert, but he made her go alone at the last instant. He claimed to feel unwell. Now that might have been an outright lie. It seems he was a bit of a hermit, and Ms Steinbeck always wanted to run from one party to the next. Maybe he was just not in a mood to go.’
‘Hmmm.’ She looked down on the blackmail letter in her hand. ‘Help me deduce something from this charming little letter. The writer is obviously working with another or even a whole gang, for they are using a plural pronoun. They must have been watching me for some time now to find some sort of indiscretion that I’d be eager to cover up. They claim I am going about with some convict. I can’t vouch for every single person in my acquaintance that they are pitch perfect. Some like liquor or spend too much money at their clubs or the hat shop. But convicts? I don’t think I know any. Must have been my adventure in Tar Street the other day.’
She glanced at Dubois. ‘I guess that drunkard could have been to prison. Or the old man who repairs the watches? He looks kind and approachable enough, but I have no idea what he did when he was younger. Maybe he was in prison in another country? Been a sailor, got accused of something? Perhaps really knifed a man in a fight? Never meaning to, but those things can happen.’
She wanted Dubois to know she had not lived away from the world for all of her life, that she did understand people and situations and how violent death came about, even if you had not been looking for it.
Dubois shook his head slowly. Holding her gaze, he said, ‘The convict referred to in that note is me.’
‘What?’ Alkmene couldn’t help the disbelief in her own voice. ‘You have been to prison?’
Dubois shrugged. ‘You have come to the wrong person to help you out. At least, I suppose you are here because you want help from me?’
‘I just figured that…’ Alkmene straightened a crinkled edge of the envelope. The sudden revelation left her reeling. Had Dubois knifed a man in a fight abroad?
Something inside of her refused to accept he could take a life. But perhaps the circumstances had been such that he had been forced to, in self-defence?
But because the other one had been local, nobody had believed him and he had ended up behind bars anyway?
She realized he was waiting for her to work herself out of this faux pas and said lamely, ‘I just wanted to know what I should do about the letter.’
Dubois laughed hollowly. ‘You are asking me what to do?’
‘All right, so far I haven’t asked or listened when you’ve said something but that is just because I don’t understand you. Your life, your choices, your connections. How can you leave that little boy with that old man and the drunk father and never think…’
‘I do think.’ His tone was impatient, like he was about to pound the table with a fist. ‘But I can’t change anything about it. Can I take him away from there? Where to? Here?’
He gestured around him. ‘He would have no better life here. I am away for my work all day long. He would be bored and go out into the street, run into trouble. My landlady is not going to look after him. And if he took an apple at the shop down the street or caused trouble breaking something at the tobacconist’s, people would soon force us to move away from here.’
She held his gaze. ‘At least you would not beat him.’
Dubois took a deep breath. ‘No. But that is poor consolation.’
He tilted his chin up as if to defy her. ‘There are countless children like him in the back alleys, Lady Alkmene. What do you want to do about it, start a little Saturday afternoon tea party?’
Alkmene pressed her lips together. ‘It might not be a bad idea for those children to just have fun for a while. Even if it seems superficial to you.’
Dubois made a gesture in the air. ‘Oh, forget about it. I am just bushed from last night.’
He began to pace the room. ‘You want to know what to do about the blackmail note. Do nothing. Don’t pay. Blackmail never ends. And in this case there is little to deny or set straight. No incriminating correspondence to get back. Your father might be angry when he learns you bought his buttons in the company of a convict, but there is not much he can do about it. I suppose he won’t disinherit you?’
Alkmene laughed. ‘I am his only daughter. Where else would he leave his money?’ She frowned a moment. ‘My father isn’t very attached to his money, I guess, but I doubt he would leave it to anyone who is not related to him. He does have that much sense of family. He hopes I will marry and…’
She fell silent. Her father’s frequent journeys didn’t just mean freedom to do her own thing, but also freedom from his endless suggestions on whom she could marry. He always seemed to think of somebody new. Somebody equally abhorrent to her mind.
Dubois made another dismissive gesture. ‘It is none of my business. Just don’t pay anything.’
‘I was almost tempted to put an empty hat box in the place indicated and watch who will come and get it. Then we have our blackmailer.’ She couldn’t keep the triumphant note out of her voice.
Dubois shook his head. ‘Not likely. He will send another messenger like the one who delivered this letter to your home. He won’t come in person. He won’t show his face anywhere where he can be seen and captured.’
Alkmene nodded. ‘Probably not. He is the king of this criminal capital, right, and he wants to stay in that position.’
Dubois gave her a hard stare. ‘So meek and understanding of my point of view? You won’t do anything foolish on your own, will you?’
Alkmene shrugged. She dragged the toe of her left shoe over the floorboards with an innocent expression.
Dubois sighed. ‘If you are dead set on doing something, don’t do it alone. At least promise me that, huh?’
Alkmene leaned back on her heels, still not affirming anything. She sensed Dubois was getting antsy about her reluctance to promise she was dropping it. She might gain something here. ‘I am just so bored every single day alone, while my father is away. I could do with something…useful to pursue. Now you are after the killer of this Silas Norwhich. I wanted to get him, but I don’t have the connections or resources you do. I can do nothing but…get myself in trouble because I don’t know what is good for me.’
Dubois’s mouth jerked as if he had to laugh at her meek little act, but suppressed it.
He said, ‘You are riling me, right? You don’t think my connections or resources mean anything.’
‘They do. You found the person who dropped the fare there that night. Now we know from two different witnesses that there was a late visitor. The killer or otherwise the last
