Still Life With Murder by P.B. Ryan

Author:P.B. Ryan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-11T01:01:03+00:00

“I don’t understand,” Nell said as Will roused into wake-fulness after a particularly long period of insensibility.

He groaned, draping an arm over his head. “You do know how to ruin a perfectly good stupor.”

“You’re obviously still alive.”

“Christ, but you’re literal. Perhaps I should hold you down and force a smoking pistol into your mouth. A little gong might do you a world of good.”

“As it’s done for you?”

He sat up, reaching for his cigarettes. “I don’t limp after a couple of bowls.”

“You don’t appear to do much of anything else, either. A man like you, with your background, your education…” She shook her head. “You don’t belong here.”

“Do stop hiding behind that kneejerk respectability, Miss Sweeney—at least with me. I’m growing weary of it.”

“Go home, Dr. Hewitt,” she said with feeling.

“No, I think you’re the one who should go home, Miss Sweeney.” He lit the cigarette, flicked the match into the little stone dish, and settled against the wall. “Go back to Palazzo Hewitt. I daresay you do belong there.”

“Your mother made me promise to take you home.”

“She would understand your not wanting to remain in this den of sin while I gradually smoke myself into oblivion, which could take a while.”

She would, at that. “All right, just… tell me where you’re staying, at least, so she has some way to get in touch with you.”

He expelled a heavy sigh. “Very well, if it’ll buy me a little peace. I’ve got a room at the Belmont.”

“Where is that?”

“My mother knows it.”

“Be careful, Dr. Hewitt. If the police find out you’re frequenting places like this while you’re out on bail, you’ll be thrown right back in the Charles Street Jail, and you’ll stay there until your trial.”

“If you don’t tell them, I won’t.”

When Nell rose to leave, Will insisted on walking her downstairs and out to the street, where he hailed a hack that had just turned onto Tyler from Kneeland. His limp had, indeed, all but disappeared; no wonder he’d become so enamored of opium.

“Dr. Hewitt,” she began as the old blue-curtained carriage drew up.

“Yes.”

“Did you really buy that girl in Shanghai?”

“I did.”

“How… how old was she?”

“Thirteen, but she looked older, and she was very beautiful. If I hadn’t snapped her up, someone else would have beaten me to it.” Will greeted the hack driver and handed him some money. “The lady is going to Colonnade Row.”

He opened the door for Nell and held out his hand. She faced him patiently, making no move to enter the carriage.

He smiled. “I took her to a convent and arranged for her to be schooled there. She lives there still. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“If it’s the truth.”

“I am many despicable things, Miss Sweeney, but I am not a liar.”

“Are you quite sure… Mr. Toussaint?”

He nodded as if to acknowledge her point. “I am not often a liar. I was weaned on lies and secrets and genteel fabrications, and as a result, I’ve developed an aversion to pretense—except on the stage. I’m actually quite fond of the theater.

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