“You were driving past the garden square when you heard a woman cry out in the early morning. Do you know the time?”
“I ain’t sure of what I heard. Could have been a woman crying out. Could have been a bird. As to the time, all I can say it was around dawn. I dinna carry a fancy watch.” Blackburn flipped the cloth onto his shoulder and picked up the tin of polish. “The abductions ain’t your affair, sir. Go back to London and leave us to solve our own problems.”
“Why are you unsure about what you heard now?” Oscar pressed. “According to the police, you were quite certain on the day of the abduction that the cry had come from a woman. Why do you want to retract your statement?”
“I told ye,” Blackburn growled. “I cannae be sure.”
Oscar huffed in frustration.
Miss Wheeler turned her back to Blackburn. Her voice low, she said, “This is a waste of time. He won’t budge.”
Perhaps we wouldn’t get an answer out of the coachman about the cry he may or may not have heard, but I had a different question for him. It was a question that had rattled around in my head ever since hearing that the two abducted women were magicians.
I cleared my throat. “Last night I overheard you tell the maid from the house next to Mr. Kinloch’s that she doesn’t have anything to fear. You said it with conviction. Why were you certain she had nothing to fear?”
Blackburn must have known the abductor only abducted cotton and wool magicians, and that the maid wasn’t a magician, hence she was safe. It was the only explanation for why he’d not been worried for her safety.
Or so I thought.
Blackburn’s eyes narrowed as he glared at me. “Because the lass is ugly.”
The groom proved he’d been listening to our conversation when he suddenly stopped raking and looked up.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Oscar bit off.
“Suit yaeself.” Blackburn pushed past Oscar, slamming his shoulder into Oscar’s as he went.
Oscar pressed his lips together and glared at the coachman’s broad back.
Miss Wheeler lifted her skirts a few inches to avoid the muck and followed the coachman. “It’s not just pretty girls who are abducted, you know. Crimes against women of all description occur in every country around the world. Appearances are irrelevant.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “I’m sure you know that, which begs the question, why did you mention the maid’s looks at all? Is it because you know the real reason those women were taken and the maid doesn’t fit the bill?”
Blackburn suddenly spun around, eyes blazing with fury, fists closed at his sides. “Are ye accusing me of taking them?”
“No, she isn’t,” I quickly said as Oscar wedged himself into the gap between Blackburn and Miss Wheeler. He shot a fierce glare of his own back at the coachman.
Miss Wheeler stepped out from behind Oscar. “Yes, I am. Did you take them, Mr. Blackburn? Or do you know who did?”
The fire in the coachman’s eyes dimmed then extinguished altogether. He scrubbed a hand through his beard as he glanced toward the groom, who’d returned to his duties. “It wasnae me, and I dinnae ken who took the women.” He glanced at the groom again and lowered his voice further. “You should look at Redmayne. He was a footman in another house years ago where a lass went missing. She was found dead days later. Redmayne came under suspicion, but was never charged. If he was innocent, why did he leave there and come tae work here?”
“How do you know this?” Oscar asked.
“I just do.”
“Did you ever see Redmayne interact with either of the missing women?”
“Nae.” Blackburn thrust a finger smudged with black polish into the air between himself and Oscar. “Dinnae tell anyone what I said.”
“We’ll have to inform the police if it becomes relevant to this investigation.”
Blackburn seemed satisfied with that and began to walk off. I wasn’t finished, however.
“If it was Redmayne,” I said quietly so that the groom couldn’t hear, “why do you think he’d leave straw effigies at the scenes of the abductions?”
Blackburn gave it serious thought before answering. “Tae throw suspicion onto Kinloch, descendant of the witchfinder. Since the lasses were magicians, an effigy puts it in folk’s minds that witchcraft’s a motive.”
It was the same explanation Redmayne had given us earlier.
“Magic is not witchcraft,” Oscar pointed out.
