Silent Victim - C. E. Lawrence [90]
“It’s Spode,” Perkins said, handing Butts a cup, “in case you’re interested. Blue Italian, circa 1860.”
Lee raised an eyebrow and studied the cup.
“I see you’ve heard of him,” Perkins said with a smile.
“Well, I haven’t,” Butts interjected. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Josiah Spode perfected blue glazing in the late eighteenth century in England. And as if that weren’t enough, he also invented bone china by adding bone ash to the formula for porcelain, which had been perfected by the Chinese centuries earlier,” Perkins explained, stirring sugar into his tea. “It’s the finest quality of English china, delicate but strong.”
“Oh,” said Butts. He looked unimpressed.
“Are you a fancier of antiques, Dr. Campbell?” Perkins asked, settling down on a blue and gold flowered love seat with matching tassels.
“My mother is,” Lee answered.
“Ah, then you must bring her around sometime. I would be happy to give her a tour of my humble abode. There may be some items of interest to her, and I’m always happy to meet a fellow aficionado.”
“Thanks, but she lives in Texas,” Lee lied.
He avoided looking at Butts to see his reaction to the lie.
The detective cleared his throat. “So, you and your sister are … reincarnated, you said?”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Perkins said with another dismissive wave of his hand. “In fact, I wouldn’t even have mentioned it if not for the fact that you noticed the Green Man.”
Butts’s brow furrowed, increasing his resemblance to a pockmarked bulldog. “What’s that got to do with the Green Man?”
“It’s a long story,” Perkins answered. “Perhaps another time.”
“Where is your sister?” Butts asked, looking around. Except for the sound of their voices and the rattling of teacups, the house was still and silent.
“Oh, Charlotte was called out suddenly,” Perkins said. “She’s a midwife by vocation, and one of her patients found herself unexpectedly in labor, a week or so early.”
Lee couldn’t help thinking there were midwives in the nineteenth century, though he knew there were plenty in the present day as well.
“That’s what happened when my son was born,” Butts said. “He popped out ahead of schedule. Surprised the hell out of my wife—she was in the housewares aisle at the IGA.”
“How very interesting,” Perkins murmured. Lee couldn’t tell if he was mocking Butts or being sincere, since his voice always had an edge. “Do you have any hobbies, Detective?” he asked, leaning back in the love seat and putting his feet up. A casual observer might think he was the picture of relaxation and ease, but a vein in his neck twitched, and he was blinking frequently. Lee suspected that the languorous pose was just that—a pose.
“I leave that to the wife,” Butts replied, slurping his tea. “She’s the one with the spare time. I spend most of my time chasin’ down bad guys, and that keeps me pretty busy,” he added with a significant look at Perkins.
“Yes, I can imagine,” Perkins replied, raising his teacup to his lips and sipping delicately, his lips barely grazing the lip of the cup. Once again, Lee was reminded of an actor playing a role. Everything about Perkins was theatrical, as though done for effect, from the crisp striped cravat around his neck to the precise, archaic phrasing of his speech. There was something odd going on here—he just didn’t know what it was yet.
“Not to press the point,” he ventured, “but have you always known you were—uh, reincarnated?”
“No,” Perkins said, setting down his teacup. “You see, Charlotte and I are neo-pagans—it’s the modern version of the ancient Celtic religion. Hence the Green Man on the porch—it’s a symbol that is particularly meaningful to people of our faith.”
Lee looked at Butts, but the detective was showing admirable discipline.