Death in the Devil's Acre - Anne Perry [9]
Still, perhaps if he was prepared to discuss it with her, she could at least use her wits. She had not been unskilled at divining motives in the past, and the nature of human beings had much in common whatever the circumstances.
She hurried to meet her husband as soon as she heard the front door close, even before Gracie could get there. She took his coat, hung it up to dry, and then turned immediately to kiss him. His face felt cold. She knew he must be tired; it was over twelve hours since he had left, without breakfast. Her senses told her to restrain her curiosity at least until he had finished supper. She led the way into the parlor and talked about nothing of consequence while Pitt thawed out in front of the fire until Gracie served the meal.
By nine o’clock she considered that tact had been paid more than its due. “The constable who came for you this morning,” she began. “Was that because of the corpse in the Devil’s Acre?”
A trace of bleak humor flickered across his face. When Charlotte tried being subtle with him, he usually saw through it, so she had abandoned the effort. Anyhow, she had not had time to prepare and approach the whole subject in a more devious fashion.
“Yes,” he said guardedly. “But Lambert Gardens, which is where he lived, is not your family’s social circle. There is nothing you can do to help.”
She was not tactically inept. “No, of course not,” she said. “But it is impossible not to be interested. The newspapers are full of it this evening.”
He pulled a face.
She changed her line of attack. “Do be careful, Thomas. It sounds as if there is some dreadful madman loose. I mean, it isn’t a sane sort of crime, is it? What do you suppose a man like Dr. Pinchin was doing in the Devil’s Acre anyway? Did he have a practice there? The newspapers said he was a very respectable man.” She was not entirely convinced; she had known plenty of “respectable” people herself. All the adjective really meant was that they were either clever enough or fortunate enough to have maintained an excellent façade. Behind it there might be anything at all.
Pitt smiled, his eyes uncomfortably clear. “Thank you, my dear, but you have no need to be anxious for me. I don’t expect to prowl the Acre alone. I shall be in no danger from madmen.”
She debated whether to be hurt and pretend he had misunderstood her, but decided rapidly that it would not work. “Of course not,” she said. “Perhaps I was being silly. I dare say Dr. Pinchin was not nearly as respectable as the newspapers suggested. After all, they would have to be very careful of what they said, and the poor man is only just dead.” She looked up, wide-eyed and totally candid. “Did he have a family?”
“Charlotte!”
“Yes, Thomas?”
He let out his breath in a sigh. “This is not a case you can involve yourself in. Dr. Pinchin was not the only victim—he was the second that we know of, and whatever is going on, it has its cause in the Devil’s Acre. The other body was found there, too. It is not a domestic crime, Charlotte. It does not involve the sort of motives you are good at.”
She ignored the compliment. “Another one? I didn’t know that! The newspapers didn’t say anything. Are you keeping it secret? Who was it?”
There was a momentary flash of irritation in his face. Charlotte was not sure whether it was directed at her or at circumstances.
Pitt waited several seconds before he answered, and when he did there was resignation in his voice. “Actually, it was someone you have already met.”
Shock tingled through her, not unmixed with a sense of excitement that she was ashamed of the instant after she felt it.
“I’ve met?” she repeated incredulously.
“Do you remember General Balantyne—in Callander Square?”
The excitement turned to horror so intense it almost made her sick. The room swam and she thought she was going