Oliver was about to sit on the bench when a woman’s voice cut through the quiet. He listened closely, but she wasn’t in the doctor’s office or the elevator. That’s when his eyes snagged on the far wall. Inset into the paneling was a near invisible, knob-less door. In the chaos of the tour, he hadn’t even noticed it, and he wouldn’t have this time if he hadn’t heard a voice on the other side.
“I want to see my daughter.”
“Mrs. Bellamy, as I told you, she will be brought out shortly, and then, you can take her home. Dr. Yates has given me explicit instructions—”
“She ismychild, not Jonathan’s, and I have every right to be with her.” Her voice dropped as she said, “She told me she was scared. She shouldn’t be alone.”
“The only way for Miss Amelia to overcome that fear is to face it. That’s what Dr. Yates said. She is in good hands, ma’am. Your brother is doing the procedure himself. Now, come. Why don’t you wait in his office until he’s done with her?” the man said with patronizing sweetness as their voices grew closer.
Oliver desperately searched for a way to look less conspicuous. He didn’t want them to think he was eavesdropping while standing at the desk twiddling his thumbs, but what else could he have been doing? Grabbing a folded newspaper off the bench, Oliver threw himself onto the seat and held it aloft. When the door opened and Jenkins and Mrs. Bellamy came in, Oliver took a calming breath and lowered the paper as if nothing were amiss. Jenkins looked at him askance but quickly hid it beneath a veneer of bland disinterest. The woman beside him was white and blonde, like Dr. Yates, with the same angular jaw and sharp gaze. The hair framing her round face had lightened, but what caught Oliver’s attention was her dress of mourning grey and the jet brooch at her throat. Giving Jenkins a final disapproving look, she disappeared into Dr. Yates’s office.
With a roll of his eyes, Jenkins unhurriedly returned to his desk and sat down. “May I help you, sir?”
“Yes,” Oliver replied, pausing to straighten his back and smooth his voice, “I visited Dr. Yates the other day with my brother-in-law. He mentioned to me that there was a position open for a surgeon and that if I should like to speak to him about it in more detail, I should make an appointment with you.”
The secretary’s eyes roamed over him as if trying to place him. “I see, and your name is?”
“Dr. Alfred Owens.”
“Well, Dr. Owens, Dr. Yates has time on Monday between eleven and twelve.”
Oliver frowned. If he had been asking for himself, he would have pounced on the first time, but this wasn’t who Dr. Owens was. “Unfortunately, I’m... I’m interviewing with Bellevue that day, and I would be cutting it close. Does he have anything open later in the week?”
The secretary flipped to the next page of the appointment book and then the next with more force than necessary. “He has time in the evening on Wednesday at four. Doesthatwork for you?”
“Yes. Please let Dr. Yates know I stopped by.”
Oliver eyed the grandfather clock again as he pushed the button for the elevator. His chest tightened with anxiety; he was cutting it close. Dr. Yates would be finishing his rounds very soon, if he hadn’t already, and he didn’t want to be caught in the elevator with him or pass him on his way out. The tether felt insubstantial between his fingers as he drew it out and waited. He wanted to give it two tugs to let Felipe know he was on his way out, but he didn’t dare until he was descending for fear it could tear if he pulled too hard. He was about to push the button again when, with a thump and a ding, the elevator door opened.
Oliver resisted the urge to throw himself inside with the operator and the sedate older woman beside him watching, but as he stepped into the cabin, he paused. He swore he heard the grind of gears behind him. Before he could figure out what it was, the door shut, and the elevator smoothly descended.
***
FELIPE WATCHED OLIVERstep out of the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul, his grey eyes scanning the sidewalk with a twinge of panic before spotting Felipe idling at the curb. Joe had ditched them. Felipe wasn’t sure whether to be worried or angry that the man hadn’t showed. If he was in his position, he probably would have taken the money and ran too. Opening the door for Oliver with clipped neutrality, he watched his partner’s shoulders droop with relief as the façade fell a fraction too early. Felipe’s danger senses tingled at Oliver’s slip. He eyed the people on the sidewalk and lingering near the doors, but no one stood out or stared. Oliver was, unfortunately, memorable. He needed to get him away quickly, then. Clamoring into the steamer, Felipe held up a hand for silence and quickly slithered into traffic. Once they were far out of eyeshot, Felipe met Oliver’s gaze in the mirror and nodded.
His partner audibly sighed and deflated into the seat. “I hate that place, I hate sitting back here, and I hate pretending you’re my chauffeur.”
“I know, but it works. How did it go?” he asked, trying not to let his annoyance about Joe show.
“Weird. I made the appointment and avoided Yates. The interview will be on Wednesday at four, but that isn’t the weird part. Joe found me and gave me something, though I didn’t get to look at it yet.”
Felipe glanced over the seat at Oliver with a raised brow. “Joe intercepted you? He was supposed to meet me behind the building. I thought he had taken the money and run when he didn’t show.”
“Eyes on the road, please.”
With a huff, Felipe turned around in time to avoid clipping a cart. “How did he find you?”
“He was mopping the floor when I got there and waved me over. Maybe he got called away to clean a mess and couldn’t take his smoke break.”
At least the man had managed to improvise and find Oliver anyway. Joe would have made a good investigator, even if he was a self-professed thief. Probably because he was a thief. Paper crinkled behind him as Felipe steered the steamer toward home as efficiently as he could manage in afternoon traffic.
“Joe sent us a key to the cellar hatch along with a map of how to get to it and what to avoid. There’s also a note,” Oliver said. “Give me a second. It’s smudgy.Yates might be on to me. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it Sunday night at 11 PM.That’s the safest time. Tell the blonde to bring my money and my way out. I’m leaving Sunday with or without you. Well, that doesn’t give us much time.”
Felipe’s mind trailed to all the things he and Ansley had said that morning. All of which didn’t lend themselves to a smooth investigation, especially on such short notice. Releasing a silent groan, he hoped he wouldn’t have to miss Sunday dinner. That would only add salt to Teresa’s wounds. “No, no it doesn’t. Remind me to visit Teresa tomorrow.”
Turning down the next street, the Neoclassical façade of the Paranormal Society materialized from the aether, and the knot in Felipe’s chest loosened. As he parked, he eyed the figures and skeletons processing across the building’s frieze. The society’s darkened, weather-beaten stone and macabre air were a far cry from the clean, moneyed exterior of the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul. He could see how people took one look at the skeletons above them and the gargoyles guarding the Paranormal Society’s entrance and thought better of going inside. Running his hand along the left gargoyle’s paw for luck as he trotted up the steps beside Oliver, Felipe wondered if Joe could build a new life within these walls. While Felipe knew firsthand the society couldn’t protect against every danger, he hoped it would be enough to keep him from the institute’s wrath.
As they entered the foyer, Oliver flinched and froze as Ansley stepped out of the billiards room. The blonde’s brows knit as he looked from Oliver in his borrowed clothes to Felipe in his uniform, his mouth flattening into a disapproving line.
