The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,39
looked at him squarely. “It’s a message, I’m guessing. It’s a message from the people wanting to know about Elspeth Thompson’s family. This murder was personal, not random, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said. “It was a message.”
“You selfish horse’s ass,” Alexander said in a low, tense rumble. “You will get someone killed—no, wait, you have gotten someone killed because you’re a greedy bastard.”
“Just a whore,” Schmitt said.
Alexander slammed his hand down on the desk. “Just a whore? Do you think this will stop here? Do you think they won’t come after you or your wife or Samuel?”
Schmitt looked up sharply. “Samuel?” he whispered.
“The next sign will be more personal yet, Schmitt. I think you should tell the police and the council president about these threats. You’re going to have to come clean.”
“I can’t do that! I’ll never be trusted again!”
“You’re concerned about the trust of criminals, murderers willing to strangle an innocent woman?”
“You don’t know what the politics are like at the top, Pendergast. You and your silver spoon don’t know about climbing out of the wharf, not knowing where your next meal was coming from, not knowing if your mother was going to be alive when you came back from scavenging.” Schmitt rose, his face mottled a brilliant red. “I taught myself to read and how to use my fives and whose palm I needed to lay some coin in. You don’t know anything!”
Alexander turned the knob on the office door. He did not think he could look at Schmitt one more moment. “If one hair on Elspeth Thompson’s head is harmed, I’ll make you pay, Schmitt. I will make you pay.”
“What is wrong, Elspeth? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Kirsty said, smiling and attempting to take the basket from her hand. She looked up sharply. “Elspeth. What is wrong? Let go of the basket.”
“Look out the window, Kirsty. But be sly about it. Don’t let anyone see that you’re looking out.”
“Who would care that I’m—”
“Just do it!”
Kirsty stared at her for a long moment and then inched slowly over to the window nearest the door. She crouched down and glanced outside from the lowest part of the glass. She turned quickly and flattened herself against the door near Elspeth’s feet.
“There’s a man lounging against the tree in front of Mr. Ervin’s house. He’s staring at our house. I think it is one of the men who followed us after James’s match.”
“He followed me at the market. I went into the bookstore when a trolley came by and went out through the bakery. I didn’t think they saw me.”
“They know where we live, Elspeth. They want us to know that they know, I think.” She crawled back under the window to look out. “He’s walking away now.”
“He’s gone?”
Kirsty nodded as she peeked out the window again.
Elspeth concentrated on slowing her breathing and letting her heart cease its pounding. She closed her eyes, letting her mind drift away from fear into the quiet place that she’d depended on from the day her parents were buried at sea. But rather than a blank slate or a rambling wall or a field of daffodils that she often saw in her mind’s eye when she sought peace, she saw a face. A man’s face. Alexander. She saw Alexander looking into her eyes as he had that night in the alley, holding her face in his hands, his lip cut and his eye going black but sincere and worried and so handsome, if she was truthful with herself.
“We’ve got to talk to Muireall,” she said.
Kirsty shook her head. “She’s gone to the Sister’s Orphanage. She’ll be gone all day.”
“James?”
“Out with MacAvoy, watching a bout.”
“Where is Aunt?”
“At the Mingos’. She’s visiting with Mr. Mingo’s mother.”
“Is Mrs. McClintok here? Payden? Robert?”
Kirsty nodded. “All in the kitchen, I think. Mrs. McClintok had the boys peeling potatoes.”
Elspeth pushed herself away from the wall and handed Kirsty her basket. “Here. Take this with you to the kitchen and lock the kitchen door. I’ll be there in a moment, but I am going to check window locks first.”
Elspeth pulled her bonnet from her head and went through the house methodically, looking at every window and entrance, closing and locking it all up tight. Then she made her way to the downstairs kitchens.
“What is going on?” Mrs. McClintok asked. “Kirsty said a man followed you home.”
“He did. Two men followed me from the market. I slipped into the bookstore and out the bakery door, but he must have already