The Devil's Teeth (Ravenwood Mysteries #5) Page 7

  "You generally have something critical to say," she replied truthfully.

  "Hop is part of our family. Do I say such things about him?"

  "Perhaps not in English," Hop said.

  Catarina dabbed at her eyes. "Yes, well, the same could be said of your convoluted tongue. Who knows what you say about me, Mr. Hop." But there was gentle humor in her voice—an old back and forth between them.

  "I always say it to your face, Mrs. Amsel. It is more amusing that way," Hop replied.

  "You have an odd sense of humor," Marcus muttered.

  Catarina took a steadying breath. "I am overjoyed, Isobel."

  "You are?"

  The hand around her own tightened. "Yes."

  "Why?" Isobel asked with no small amount of suspicion.

  "Because Sao Jin will give you every bit as much aggravation as you give me."

  Marcus and Hop guffawed. When their laughter died, Isobel looked her mother square in the eye.

  "And I'll love her as you loved me," she said.

  "Love," Catarina corrected. And smiled. Her mother had a captivating smile. The kind that transformed her. Rare as a diamond, but every bit as beautiful.

  Both uncomfortable with sentiment, they returned to familiar ground. "But Isobel, these children, my grandchildren, are not some stray cats that you pick up and leave at home."

  "I know, Mother."

  Catarina scrutinized her, and finally satisfied with whatever she saw, she nodded. Marcus clapped his hands, and planted another kiss on his daughter's temple. "I think them both delightful girls. We will have them visit for a week or two."

  "I don't think that's a good idea, Father."

  "Why not?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure Jin's ready for… that." Mother was the word she'd wanted to say. "Jin is a difficult child."

  Catarina waved the statement away. "You act like I did not have children of my own. I doubt there is any child more difficult than you."

  Isobel would have pointed at Sao Jin, had the girl been present. "I'll speak with Riot when he visits."

  "It is done, then," her father announced.

  Isobel bit back an oath—her mother would find the closest bar of soap if she used the Lord's name in vain.

  "When is Herr Riot visiting again?"

  "I don't know. Since the trial, he’s been bombarded with cases." She swallowed down the disappointment those words brought. But it did nothing to lessen the keen ache in her breast. A flash of annoyance washed it away. She was not some lovestruck woman.

  Both her parents were nodding in sympathy. "Your father once went away on business for two weeks. It was dreadful."

  "I can't sleep without mein Schatz."

  Isobel tried not to think overly much on the implied meaning. Eleven children was proof of their affection. She cut the thought out of her mind. But it was hard to ignore the look in her father's eyes when he gazed at her mother. Catarina was his world, and he was hers.

  Catarina was ten years younger than her husband. But childbirth had taken its toll—especially the twins. Isobel and Lotario had done their mother in, and she'd been using a cane ever since. Although her parents were fit for their ages, time was closing in, and Isobel found herself hoping they would both die in some accident—together. If her mother died first, Marcus would be an empty shell. But if her father were the first to go, Isobel would be left to deal with her mother.

  The thought might seem callous to some, but Isobel thought it practical. The memory of Riot in the witness stand, gunpowder in the air, and a bullet hole through his coat made her sick every time it flashed in her mind. And blood. The smell of Lotario's. Now she had two men she hoped to beat to the grave. A cold, selfish thought, but it was the truth.

  Love was overwhelming; all consuming. And it could hurt like hell.

  "Isobel?"

  She looked back to her parents. Her mother's eyes held an ever-present suspicion, and her father's held concern. "Are you well?" Marcus asked.

  "Of course I am," she replied quickly. She avoided her parent's gazes, and looked to the leaves, the green, so idyllic, so… restful. This place was wearing her down. Alone, idle with her thoughts, with nothing to distract her or stimulate her mind. If she weren't mad already, she'd be sure to go mad by the end of her sentence.

  "Dr. Bright seems an amiable gentleman," her father noted, fishing for more information.

  Isobel said nothing.

  Marcus shifted uncomfortably. "I think he is worried about you."

  "I hope you are taking advantage of his care," Catarina said.

  Isobel narrowed her eyes. They really were too much at times. "What has he told you?"

  Catarina and Marcus glanced at each other. But they were rescued by a curly-haired woman waving a white handkerchief. Miss Meredith stood with her pet rabbit, Mr. Darcy, at the far end of the green, motioning frantically. "Miss Amsel!" Mr. Darcy twitched on his leash.

  Without excusing herself, Isobel darted across the green, scattering patients like hens.

  "It's your brother. Inside with Doctor Bright," Miss Meredith said without prompt. And there it was: love. One of the men in her life was in danger. Isobel rushed into the main wing of the asylum.

  Julius Bright was bent over Lotario, who sat hunched in a chair. A nurse hovered nearby. A man with a star on his chest and a Stetson on his head stood close to them, along with his deputy. Both had revolvers on their hips. The sheriff wore an unpleasant scowl.

  Isobel's heart skipped. "What happened?"

  All eyes went to her as she hurried across the lobby. The second man placed a hand on his revolver in alarm, while the man with the badge turned at her approach. She recognized him as the sheriff who had led a posse after Virgil Cunningham. "This is official business…" he hesitated when he saw her, and glanced back at Lotario. Her twin was pale and slumped in the chair. There was a bruise on his cheek.

  Isobel ignored the sheriff. "Are you alright, Ari?"

  "I was tackled, accused of being you, and groped. And I've apparently abducted a child. Or you did. I'm not sure what the sheriff thinks anymore. Only that I did it all with just one arm," he added dryly.

  Julius placed a comforting hand on his patient's good shoulder. "I'm afraid his shoulder was wrenched," he said to Isobel.

  Deputy Sheriff James Nash had a chiseled jaw that meant business. When she rounded on him, he steeled himself, and looked down at the diminutive woman in a tea dress. "Sheriff Nash," Isobel said between teeth. "Why did you accost my brother?"

  "You're not in a position to demand answers, Miss Amsel." He stressed the name. When she had first met him, she had been posing as Mrs. Morgan. Nash looked to Julius. "Why isn't this prisoner in a cell?"

  "She's under my care, Sheriff."

  "Well, get her out of here, or I'll have my deputy lock her in a room."

  "Shouldn't you be looking for the missing child?" she shot back.

  Nash narrowed his eyes. "What do you know about the boy?"

  "That he's missing," she said cheekily. "When did he disappear? Are there witnesses? Why do you suspect my twin?"

  "It's none of your business," Nash argued.

  "It is my business. A child is in danger." Nash started to argue, but she bullied right over him. "When you believed I was posing as Lotario, you tackled me, and groped me. Me, a woman." She spread her arms. "Would you like to see if I'm really a man? Maybe we're twin brothers."

  Heat turned Nash's cheeks pink. "That's not what happened," he said quickly.

  "What did?" she demanded.

  Julius folded his hands behind his back, and leant slightly forward, waiting in anticipation for the sheriff's reply.

  But Nash had a stubborn set to his jaw. "I don't have to answer to you, Miss Amsel."

  "But you do have to answer to me." Catarina Amsel's voice cut across the room like a knife. The sheriff and his deputy quickly removed their Stetsons as her cane clicked across the terra-cotta.

  Catarina took in her children with a
steely gaze, then aimed it at the sheriff.

  "Mrs. Amsel," Nash shuffled his hat in his hands, and looked over her head to Marcus and Hop. Relief filled his eyes.

  "Jim," Marcus enthused when he neared, patting the man's shoulder. "You've grown into such a fine young man."

  "Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

  "You're acquainted?" Julius asked.

  Marcus beamed. "Of course, he watered down the streets of Calistoga for years."

  "Well now he's accused Lotario of abducting a boy," Isobel said.

  "That is not what I…" Nash shifted under the sudden scrutiny of Catarina.

  "But you wish to search his cottage," Isobel said.

  "Who told you that?" Nash demanded.

  Catarina bristled at the man, but before her mother could take over, Isobel steered the conversation in the direction she desired. "Who is missing? Details, Sheriff. I may be able to help."

  Off-balanced and outnumbered Sheriff Nash sighed. "Do you know the Sheels?" He looked to the Amsels.

  Her mother's eyes darkened, and her father's face fell. But the name wasn't familiar to Isobel. Not surprising since she had been traveling the continent since she was fifteen.

  "Which boy?" Julius asked.

  "Both of them. Titus and John."

  "The magnifying glass belonged to Titus Sheel," Isobel stated.

  Nash frowned down at her. "How'd you know?"

  "The initials on the handle. T.S. You think my brother abducted them because of a magnifying glass?" she asked incredulously.

  Nash inclined his head towards her twin. "Mr. Amsel claims he found it, but he can't remember where. 'Out in the woods' isn't much to go on."

  "Lotario used to get lost in his own backyard," Catarina stated. "And presently he can hardly walk without exhausting himself."

  "That's why I intend to search his cottage. It's suspicious. That, and he was asking the storekeeper about replacing the lens, not asking after the owner."

  "Circumstantial evidence. Hop, fetch our attorney," Catarina ordered.

  Isobel closed her eyes, and took a breath. Lie after lie had gotten her here. And she was done with it. Resolved, she said, "Don't waste your time, Mother. And that goes for you, too, Sheriff Nash. Lotario can't tell you where he found the magnifying glass, because I was the one who found it. I asked him to go into town and ask after the owner."

  Lotario clucked his tongue. "She's lying. Really, Bel, you don't have to throw yourself on a sword for my sake."

  "No, I'm not lying," she corrected.

  "You're really quite bad at it," Lotario tried again.

  She ignored her twin. "I found the glass hanging from a branch, tied in a bowline hitch with twine. The lens was cracked, the surrounding grass crushed, and there was blood on the handle."

  "Where?" Nash asked.

  "Out by the Palisades."

  "That's a long way from the asylum."

  Isobel didn't answer.

  "You were sentenced to Bright Waters, Miss Amsel," Nash said.

  "Under my care, Deputy Sheriff," Julius reminded him again.

  "Were you with her, Doctor?"

  Isobel held her breath.

  "No, but I've prescribed daily walks as part of her rehabilitation." Not a hint of dishonesty. Julius Bright was a smooth and practiced liar. Isobel swallowed down her surprise, and her gratitude. But why would the alienist lie for her?

  "Why would you do that?" Nash asked.

  "Nature heals the mind and body, Sheriff. Not stone walls and cages. I think you'll agree that Miss Amsel is not a criminal."

  "I certainly do," Catarina said. "My daughter was wronged—our family was wronged. And what did the authorities do?" She prodded Nash with her cane. The man winced. "Surely you aren't one of those crooked police officers, James?"

  "No, ma'am." Nash glanced down, and nudged the floor with his boot. His shoulders lost some of their breadth. He looked at Isobel, resigned. "You best show me where you found that glass, Miss Amsel."

  12

  A Leashed Hound

  Isobel rode on the Oat Hill Mine Road, surrounded by Sheriff Nash, his deputy Mr. Sharpe, and Julius Bright. From the way the good doctor rode, Isobel surmised he was not comfortable in the saddle, but he had insisted on accompanying his patient nonetheless.

  Isobel studied the sheriff's broad back. "It would help if I knew more about the boys."

  "As of right now, your brother and you are my prime suspects," Nash replied.

  Isobel bit back a rude comment. As if she needed the reminder. The irons around her wrists were impossible to ignore. When Nash had insisted on putting her in cuffs, Catarina Amsel had flown into a rage, but instead of keeling over dead she'd taken out her anger on Nash's toes. With her cane. It had been an accident, of course.

  "Why do you think the boys were abducted?" Isobel asked.

  "I didn't think so, until your brother showed up with Titus's magnifying glass."

  "When were they reported missing?"

  "Yesterday."

  "And you waited an entire day?"

  "An evening," Nash corrected.

  Isobel waited for more. But Nash was reticent. "When were the boys due back home?"

  "The boys were camping," he said. "They left Tuesday, and were due back Thursday. I just figured Mrs. Sheel was overreacting, and the boys were taking their time."

  "I used to disappear for a week at a time," Isobel admitted. "The police stopped taking my parents seriously."

  "Are the boys usually tardy?" Julius asked.

  Nash adjusted his hat. "Not especially, but they do tend to roam."

  "And how is their home life?" Julius asked.

  "Nothing seems out of the ordinary."

  "Ordinary can conceal a great deal of horror," the alienist noted.

  "Aren't you chipper," Nash said.

  "What about the father?" Isobel asked.

  "He left home Monday on business in the city."

  "You should verify his whereabouts."

  Nash looked at her in puzzlement. "Mr. Sheel left on Monday. You claim you found the magnifying glass on Wednesday. Are you suggesting he traveled all the way back here to do his children harm?"

  Isobel took a breath.

  "Leave no stone unturned, Sheriff," Julius said cheerfully.

  "I don't intend to, which is why I'm having a prisoner show me where she found a missing boy's property."

  "There was blood on the ground, too," Isobel said.

  "And you didn't think to report it?" he shot back.

  Isobel bristled. "It wasn't a significant amount. If I had appeared at your jailhouse on Wednesday with a magnifying glass—what would you have done?"

  "Confiscated it, and then arrested you for attempted escape."

  "At least you're honest."

  "Wish I could say the same for you."

  She narrowed her eyes. Had she done something to slight him?

  "This is a long way to walk, Miss Amsel," Nash said, glancing between the doctor and her.

  "I'm very restless." Isobel urged her horse into a trot, forcing the others to follow.

  The miles melted under the afternoon sun. A single track hugged the valley, with a crag rising like a wall to one side, and a steep slope on the other that plummeted to the valley. Isobel nudged her horse off the road before a sharp climb. The horse knocked rocks loose as it stepped carefully down the slope into a forest.

  Sound was dampened under the watchful presence of trees whose branches offered much needed shade. Julius wiped his brow with a handkerchief. His panama hat was covered in dust, and collecting leaves.

  Eventually the trees parted, revealing a sun-drenched meadow of poppies and wild lilac. "There." Isobel pointed to a branch that reached into the meadow. "That's where the magnifying glass was hanging."

  Nash nudged his horse forward, but Isobel quickly leaned over and grabbed a rein, bringing his horse to a halt. "We need to walk," she said.

  "You said you found the glass across the meadow."<
br />
  "I did. But I'd like to look for tracks."

  "You were here on Wednesday."

  "And I should have widened my range, but I had a talking session to attend." Isobel let go of his rein, and dismounted.

  Nash followed suit. "Sharpe, search over there." And then he grabbed her arm. "You best not run." With that warning, he let her go, and the group fanned out, eyes on the ground.

  "Do you know him?" Julius asked as he took her reins.

  Isobel shook her head. "Not really. I met Nash briefly when I was posing as Mrs. Morgan during the Virgil Cunningham incident."

  "But had you met before that?"

  "Not that I recall. But I'm sure I have a list of enemies somewhere as long as my name. Why did you lie for me?" she whispered.

  "I didn't lie."

  Isobel nudged the brim of her hat up to see him better. He wore his ever-present smile. "I don't recall you prescribing long walks, Doctor."

  He chuckled. "No, but then you naturally rebel, Miss Amsel. It's quite fascinating."

  Isobel stopped, and cocked her head. "You feared I'd do the opposite of what you suggested?"

  "Wouldn't you?"

  It was her turn to smile. "I've changed some."

  "Your mother certainly hasn't."

  Isobel ignored the baited comment. She wasn't about to get into a psychological debate when two boys were missing. She hoped that was the case—that the boys just had a streak of independence to rival her own, but her instincts said otherwise. Isobel pushed grim thoughts out of her mind. She'd not jump to conclusions. It was too soon.

  Something caught her eye.

  "Over here, Sheriff." Isobel crouched in the flowers. A gathering of poppies had been crushed. The sun baked the earth in summer, but flowers were delicate and easily disturbed.

  Sheriff and deputy converged.

  "Careful," she warned. Isobel gestured at the patch. "See this petal? And here, on the ground? Dried blood. Here and there." She studied the pattern, and looked over her shoulder to the tree line. "I think someone, or something, was shot here."

  "How can you tell?" Julius asked.

  "The spray pattern," she murmured, looking towards a grouping of trees. "The bullet would have come from that direction."