Relentless Melt by Jeremy P. Bushnell

Author:Jeremy P. Bushnell [Bushnell, Jeremy P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

They’ve let the cab go instead of paying the driver to wait, and they end up spending the better part of an hour trudging through the streets of Winchell’s neighborhood looking for another one. Over the course of that hour, Theodore’s earlier irritation with Artie returns in full force. Maybe his bad mood is further facilitated by the morning’s coffee wearing off as the day crawls into afternoon; Artie can’t be sure. For her part, she spends the cab ride worrying that maybe she revealed too much to Gertrude: If there’s a criminal conspiracy out there, organized against Winchell, couldn’t Gertrude be a part of it too? Couldn’t they—whoever they are—have…something—paid her to just go along with Lillian’s abduction? To allow herself to be bound in the kitchen? Once you know there’s a conspiracy out there, it’s hard not to start thinking that everyone is in on it.

They disembark at Phillips Street. The site itself looks about the same as when they last saw it. The city is building a tunnel to meet the new streetcar that’ll come across the new Cambridge Bridge. What it looks like, currently, is mostly just a long trench carved into the earth. One day there will be tracks there, but right now it’s just mud and gravel crowded with a lot of wooden ballast and bracing to keep it from collapsing in on itself. At the east end, the trench descends to meet a pair of large masonry archways, newly constructed. Twin openings to a tunnel. A big hole in the ground. Artie isn’t sure exactly how far underground the tunnel goes: you’d need to stand there at the mouth of the tunnel and look in to be sure. And someone’s already down there. It’s the sleepy-looking police officer they saw the last time they were here. Spivey claimed to have dropped Lillian off with a policeman: Is this the one?

They walk the fenced-off perimeter of the pit, trying to appear like casual strollers should the watchman look up and spot them. They’re still not really talking, but now that they’re finally at the site, Artie can see Theodore’s enthusiasm for undertaking an investigative endeavor begin to surge back: His clouded expression brightens, his eyes grow alert. He looks ready to find some clues.

There aren’t really any clues to be found here at the rim of the trench, though. All they encounter is just the normal array of street trash. Half a loaf of rat-nibbled bread. A bent comb. Theodore prods the comb with the end of his shoe. Beyond that the only point in their circuit that’s of real interest is the point where there’s a break in the fence: the spot where workers, not that there are any right now, could climb into or out of the site via a wooden ramp wide enough to wheel a cart down.

They walk the perimeter again. Artie can feel an unspoken sense beginning to grow between them, a knowledge: the knowledge that if there’s any clue at all to be found here, today, it’s down there.

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