62

  “The butler did it?”

  “Yep.”

  “All along?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hubert Hess has been under our nose this whole time?”

  “Yep.”

  “We've been in the same room with him twice?”

  “Yep.”

  “He served us tea.”

  “Yeah.”

  Nairo sat back in the carriage. Her head bounced off the seat as she stared up at the frayed and battered ceiling.

  “Hubert Hess is Schumacker's butler.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ridley hadn't said much since the memorial. The officers undercover had lost Hess in the maze of chimneys and rooftops through the East End. After a quick debrief with Conway, Nairo and Ridley had jumped into a carriage and begun racing to the Schumacker estate on the outskirts of the city. Since then Ridley had sat quietly, staring into the darkness, chain-smoking until he ran out of smokes, and then he simply sat there, arms crossed, head down, and his eyes narrowed.

  “It makes sense,” Nairo mused more to break the awkward silence and to stave off the inevitable conversation about what Nairo had seen Ridley try to do on the catwalk to Hess. “Hess gets into trouble with the Firm, and the law is on his case, so he fakes his death and disappears with the help of Schumacker. He then resurfaces as Shumacker’s butler and his personal killer. Although from what we know about Hess, I can't see him just accepting being a butler. He always wanted to be greater than that. His whole motivation was to restore his family's name and become a great wealthy Owner, instead, he is making cups of tea and fetching the horses."

  “And murdering women and babies on the side,” Ridley muttered. “Probably just enough to keep his inner psychopath satiated.”

  Nairo chewed her lip and looked out the window. The rain was pounding down in a dense, ice cold sheet. The night was so thick they could barely see the trail ahead of them. Thunder still rattled through the sky. The heavy rains drove other carriages off the road, so the way was clear, and it was a straight shot all the way to the Schumacker estate. Nairo was sure Hess would still be there: he hadn't got that much of a head start on them.

  “Ridley… when we catch up to him…” Nairo began before faltering. “I think… maybe you should let me deal with him.”

  Ridley looked up, his eyes two black stones, his face smooth and motionless.

  “Yeah,” was all he said, and Nairo wasn't sure if that was acquiescence or placation.

  She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. They arrived at the Schumacker estate just as another flash of lightning lit the gate.

  “It’s open," Nairo said, looking at the tall iron wrought gates that led into the Schumacker estate. There was no sign of any of the guards on duty.

  “He's here," Ridley hissed, jumping out of the cab into the rain.

  Nairo followed him, instructing the cabbie to wait down the road.

  “We can't just go blundering in there,” Nairo shouted over the pounding rain. “Hess is dangerous. We need to be smart about this.”

  Ridley clenched his jaw, but he knew she was right and relented.

  “This goes around the side," Nairo said, pointing to a gate in the hedges. “If he's watching, he won't be expecting us to come from that direction.”

  Ridley nodded, and they quickly circumvented the large manor estate, following the hedges in the darkness, blundering blindly forward, stamping through puddles and mud, until they reached the small wooden gate. Ridley tried it and it was locked. After a second he stepped back and booted in the door, almost kicking it off its sodden hinges. They flitted into the garden hugging the hedges. It was a moonless night and almost pitch black on the Schumacker estate. Bent over double, they scurried across the lawn, making their way to the glass conservatory where they had tea with Mrs. Schumacker. Ridley peered through the glass, but the house was empty or at least completely dark. As Nairo looked closer, she saw the flickering of candlelight somewhere deep in the bowels of the house throwing shadows across the floor.

  She tapped Ridley and pointed. He nodded grimly.

  They made their way around the side of the manor house to the back door, but it was locked. They kept traversing around the house until finally they reached the cellar entrance. The rain was so heavy now it was almost physically bowing them over. Nairo scrambled through the rain, gripped the hard iron bars, and together they yanked the cellar doors open with a heavy screeching thud that was masked by the pounding rain and rumbling thunder. They scurried down into the basement, grateful to be out of the rain. Nairo wrung out her soaking hair and took stock of their surroundings. The Schumacker's basement looked like it had once been a coal cellar but now lay dusty and disused, smelling of mildew and dust. Ridley flicked his lighter and held it up, giving them a small orb of light by which to guide themselves. Nairo followed Ridley as they picked their way through the cellar. Ridley stopped suddenly and bent down. He pulled a sheet to one side, and underneath were several discarded containers of some foul smelling liquids. Ridley peered inside and then looked over his shoulder at Nairo. He jiggled one of the containers, and it sloshed hollowly. Ridley pulled the lid of the cask up and sniffed. He pulled his face back as the acrid smelling fumes stung his nostrils.

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  “Hess has got a home chemical kit?” Nairo asked him, and Ridley gave a thin-lipped nod.

  They continued to work their way through the cellar, finding more evidence of discarded chemicals, until they finally reached the staircase that led up into the house. Nairo placed a hand on Ridley’s shoulder just as he began to take the first step.

  “We've got to be careful,” Nairo whispered to him, flicking rain out of her eyes with her thumb.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ridley muttered, turning away from her.

  Nairo grabbed him again.

  “No, I mean it, Ridley! This guy has almost killed you twice now, do you really want to ride your luck a third time? He's dangerous. We can't take him head-to-head. Let's get our bearings and find out just who is up there before we go charging around, okay? Schumacker might have extra security, or he might even be there himself, and Conway is going to be at least another twenty or thirty minutes before we can get any backup.”

  Ridley nodded and then looked up the staircase. They alighted the rickety wooden staircase, freezing every time it squeaked and creaked, but they had no sound outside the cellar door. Ridley tried the handle, and it was unlocked. He inched it open, and they stole into the kitchen. Downstairs was dark, but they could hear sounds somewhere deep in the mansion: doors opening and closing, perhaps, and feet walking down the passageways. It was hard to tell. It could just be the wind stirring through the old house or the rain bouncing from the roof. The manor house was too grand for them to pinpoint where the noises were coming from, but Nairo was sure they were not alone. They tiptoed through the kitchen into the large open foyer, hugging the walls and trying to stick to the darkness. Ridley pointed around the downstairs and shrugged before pointing up, and Nairo nodded. They slowly inched their way up the ornate grand staircase. The plush carpet masked any sound their footsteps made, but they left a ghostly trail of wet footprints behind them.

  Another snarl of thunder and lightning lit the sky, glinting off the ornate chandelier hanging in the foyer. Nairo jumped as she caught sight of their reflection in a mirror. She was so unnerved that for a second she thought Hess had swooped down on them from the wall somehow. She took a deep breath and followed behind Ridley. They alighted onto the second floor, looking left and right. She could hear sounds again. They were definitely footsteps this time, but where she couldn't quite figure out, and she was sure she heard a door close somewhere behind them. Now all she could hear was her own heavy breathing and rattled nerves. Nairo really wished she had a weapon right now. She didn’t like the thought of facing Hubert Hess without something heavy in her hands. They skirted down the passageway and into another plushly carpeted, wood soaked hall with too many doors, too many corners, and too many places someone could hide. They inched step-by-step at any moment expecting the spectre of Hess to leap from the shadows at them dagger first. Lightning flashed again, peeling through the large ornate windows at the end of the hallway, throwing shadows everywhere. Did she hear voices? Ridley looked over his shoulder at her. Had he heard them too? She didn't dare open her mouth and ask. He continued down the passage until they came to another set of stairs. Ridley looked around and then began going up again. This was narrower as they were now in the roof of the manor house. This floor was bare and uncared for. Ridley stopped and looked around curiously. Nairo looked back at him and then gave him a gesture as if to ask, ‘what was wrong?’ Ridley pointed up. There was a hatch in the ceiling, and on it was a string and a small ball to grab hold of it from. The ball was swinging gently despite everything else on this floor looking completely untouched.

  “Could be the wind?” Nairo whispered.

  Ridley flicked on his lighter again and looked around. As Nairo's eyes adjusted in the darkness, she could see dusty handprints around the hatch as if it had been recently opened. Her heart quickened. She looked back down at Ridley. He was kneeling on the floor next to fresh scrape marks in the dust directly underneath the hatch. His knife was already in his hand. Fear blossomed in Nairo’s chest. She looked around for something, anything, to defend herself with. She picked up a fine, ornate glass vase. It felt reassuringly heavy in her hands. She nodded to Ridley, and he reached up on his tiptoes and grabbed hold of the ball. He pulled it down and the hatch opened, and a ladder slid out. Ridley stepped back for a moment, peering up into the darkness, and they waited with bated breath. Nairo felt her mouth go completely dry and sweat began to slither down her spine. They waited for five seconds without moving, then ten. There was no sound, nothing. Ridley's chest pumped as he tried to keep his breath under control. He grabbed hold of a rung and stepped onto the ladder, slowly making his way up, knife in hand, neck craned back to try and see as much of the hatch as possible. Nairo awaited the glass vase raised. Ridley got to the top of the steps, took a deep breath, and poked his head through the hatch, quickly pulling it back, but nothing followed, and no one attacked him. Ridley waited a few more seconds, steeling himself, and then dashed up the last couple of rungs, heaving himself into the attic, ready to take on whatever waited up there for him. Nairo quickly followed behind, awkwardly juggling the heavy vase in one hand as she dragged herself up the steps.

  Ridley reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up into the loft. Nairo scrambled to her feet and looked around. It was like any other loft, filled with boxes and covered in grime and dust. Most importantly, there was no sign of Hubert Hess. There was barely any light up here. Ridley flicked his lighter on again, and then they saw him. Chained to the wall of the attic by his hands and his feet and gagged was Frederick Schumacker.

  Nairo felt fear pulse through her. She was almost too shocked to move. Ridley just stood there, his lighter raised, as he tried to figure out what he was looking at. There was Frederick Schumacker trussed up and bloodied. His clothes were filthy, and he looked gaunt. He opened his eyes blearily and winced at the obtrusive light. He peered into the darkness. His eyes suddenly widened, and he began making gurgling sounds through the cloth that muffled him. Without thinking, Nairo rushed to his side and heaved him up from the awkward half slumped position he had been resting against the wall in. She pulled the filthy rag from his mouth. Schumacker gasped. He looked up at her, one of his eyes was heavily swollen, but the other held a glint of recognition.

  “Aren't you that detective?” he croaked, sounding like he hadn't drunk or eaten anything in days. “What are you doing here? Where is he? Is he here? Is he coming?”

  Nairo didn’t know how to answer him. She had come here under the full surety that Hubert Hess had been Shumacker’s hired killer and that Schumacker was the mastermind behind all of this. Instead, they found him trussed up in his own attic, chained to the wall, and clearly terrified out of his mind.

  “For star's sake, woman! Where is that animal?” Schumacker grasped

  “We don't know, Mr. Schumacker,” Nairo said. “Quick, Ridley, help me get him up and get these chains off of him.”

  Ridley quickly came over and knelt, trying to help Nairo with the chains. He was manacled fast, and there was no sign of the key anywhere.

  “Oh please… Please hurry! ! Please, before he…”

  “Mr. Schumacker, I wasn’t aware you were having guests,” A cold voice drawled from behind them. “Should I go and put the tea on?”