The Buried Life by Carrie Patel

Author:Carrie Patel [Patel, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new weird, city underground, Recoletta, murder, mystery, investigation, secrets and lies, plotting, intrigue, Liesel Malone, science fantasy, crime, thriller
ISBN: 9780857665225
Publisher: Angry Robot
Published: 2014-04-23T16:00:00+00:00

1. A Ruthers

2. A Hollens

At number three, someone had crossed out “L Fitzhugh” and written in “P Dominguez.”

4. C Hask

Below this hierarchy were two separate columns of names. She read through the eighty or so names listed, recognizing only “W Cahill,” a probable match with the murdered historian. Reaching the bottom of the list, she gave a start to see “R Arnault,” scrawled in the bottom margin and separated from the others, as if added in afterthought.

A jumble of names with a handful she recognized and several dozen she did not. She was familiar with the two councilors and the two murder victims, and she only knew of only one Arnault. Without knowing the other names or understanding the connection between them, the list meant nothing. But it evidently held enough importance to hide in the seam of an old coat, she thought. Her dilemma now was how to fix it. She could not sew this compartment shut, or Hollens would know that she had found it. Yet what could she say to Lena? It would be obvious if she did not fix it, but equally incriminating if she explained why she didn’t.

Jane did not have to ponder for long. Someone pounded frantically at her door just before bursting through it. At the sound, she dropped her pins and thread with a yelp.

“Jane! Jane, where are you?” Fredrick shouted as he stumbled over the threshold, groping at the hanging sheets and clotheslines. “Jane!”

She slid the paper back into the jacket. “In here,” she called. She shoved through the drying clothes and rushed to him, trembling. Both breathed in heaving sighs of relief. “What on earth are you doing here? You scared me to death,” she gasped.

“I was so worried,” he said. He blinked and stared with a kind of fearful concern so utterly removed from his usual irreverence. “Have you heard?”

Much to her later chagrin, she stamped her foot in exasperation. “No Freddie, I have not heard. You come bursting in here and shouting like the world’s going to end, and you ask me if I’ve heard. I gave you that key for emergencies, not for–”

“Jane, he’s dead,” he whispered. “Just now. In the middle of the day.”

“Dead? Who…?” Her frustration sizzled in a cold pool of dread.

“That councilor. Hollens. Stabbed in his own house little more than an hour ago. The maid found him in his sitting room – Jane, she thought he was napping! The domicile full of servants, and someone got to a councilor in the middle of the day.”

The weight of his statement hit her with an almost physical force. “Freddie, are you sure?”

“I was in the office when our man rushed in, and I ran all the way here.” He was still panting from the combination of exertion and panic, a hapless expression on his face. She felt a pang of guilt at her earlier outburst.

“Oh… this is…” Words ground to a halt in her mind as she searched for something meaningful to say. But what? Unexpected? Shocking, yes, but no one could have thought that the architect was the end of it.

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