“And what did the woman say?”
“She didn’t know. She’s never seen anyone come or go, but yesterday morning she heard a woman cry out then the door slam. When she emerged from her home to investigate, she didn’t see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. She’d always thought the rooms beyond the door were vacant. No one’s lived there for years. Apparently the whole building is owned by a vicar.”
“Vicar!” I squinted at the door in an attempt to see the chalk dust Miss Wheeler claimed was there, but couldn’t see any traces of it among the old scratches and knots in the wood. “We should tell D.I. Smith. He can locate the vicar and fetch a key.”
Oscar pointed toward the light at the end of the close. “Good idea, Gavin. Take Miss Wheeler with you.”
“Are you going to stay here and watch the door?” I knew Oscar. He could be impetuous and brave, a combination that didn’t always have his own best interests at heart. “You won’t go in, will you?”
“Just take Miss Wheeler and—” He broke off as she strode up to the door. He rushed after her. “Miss Wheeler, get away from there. You can’t go in. It’s too dangerous.”
She ignored him and tried the doorknob. “Locked.”
I blew out a relieved breath. It wasn’t just relief for Miss Wheeler’s safety. It was just as much for Oscar’s and mine, if I were being honest. I wasn’t the bravest soul. The thought of violence made me squeamish and lightheaded. Beyond that door was a gunman who’d already tried to kill us twice. Every part of me screamed to run far away. Thankfully, with the door locked, my companions were forced to accept the situation was hopeless.
Except they didn’t.
Miss Wheeler took off her hat and removed two pins from her hair. The arrangement didn’t move. She stuck the pins into the lock and twiddled them about until the lock tumbled, then returned the pins to her hair. She straightened and placed the hat back on her head. Just when I thought she couldn’t be more remarkable than she already was, she’d produced another trick from up her sleeve. Or her hair in this instance.
Oscar reached for the doorknob and opened the door an inch. Fortunately, the hinges were well oiled and didn’t make a sound. He signaled for me to take Miss Wheeler away, but she shook her head.
“I’m not leaving you to face the gunman alone, Mr. Barratt. You need me.” She withdrew the pouch of chalk dust from her pocket.
“I can’t allow you to put yourself in danger.”
“Stop delaying. Time is off the essence. Those poor girls could still be alive in there. I’m going with you and that’s that. Professor Nash can fetch the police.”
I was about to point out that her chalk magic couldn’t compete against a gun, when the door was wrenched wide open from the other side and a figure slammed into Oscar, sending him tumbling into Miss Wheeler. They fell to the ground at my feet in a tangle of limbs. The pouch of chalk landed out of reach, unopened.
“Go after him, Gavin!” Oscar shouted from where he was sprawled on the ground.
Right. It was up to me. I slapped a hand to my hat to stop it falling off and ran after the man, sprinting in the direction we’d come. By the time I reached the long flight of stairs, however, I knew I’d never catch him.
Oscar came up behind me but didn’t bother to pursue either. He swore under his breath. “Did you recognize him?”
“No. Miss Wheeler, did you?”
There was no answer. Oscar and I turned to see the door open and Miss Wheeler missing. We exchanged glances then rushed back. I drew in a breath to call out her name, but Oscar stopped me with a finger to his lips. He was right to be cautious. We didn’t know if the gunman acted alone.
Blood pounding through my veins, I followed Oscar into the dark room beyond. We seemed to be in the entrance hall of a grand old house, going by the wood paneling on the walls and the carved newel post. Apparently the area around the Royal Mile had been popular with wealthy merchants who built multi-story residences, guild halls, and shops. This must have been one of them. Now it appeared to be a neglected slum tenement languishing in the old part of the city no longer desired by the fashionable and rich.
The single window had been boarded up, but enough light seeped between the cracks, showing the stairs to be too dangerous to navigate. Some were broken, others missing altogether. Miss Wheeler was a few feet ahead of us, moving quietly on the tips of her toes. We followed her across flagstones worn smooth from centuries of use.
I was relieved to see that Miss Wheeler had taken the precaution of removing her right glove. Her hand was closed into a fist, hopefully clutching enough chalk dust to momentarily blind an attacker should one come at us. I glanced at Oscar and was surprised to see he held a small knife. I hadn’t known he was carrying one.
We passed the staircase and headed into a bigger room. It was empty of furniture, with more carved wood paneling on both the walls and coffered ceiling, and a fireplace as tall as me with heraldic escutcheons the size of my head chiseled into the stone mantelpiece. An oil lamp and box of matches had been placed on the hearth. As with the stairwell, the windows in this room were boarded up, but enough light filtered through the cracks that I could see the hearth was made of stone, while the floor was wooden boards. They announced our presence with an ominous creak when stepped on.
We paused, partly through terror at having made a noise, partly to listen.
But no one shot at us. No one shouted for us to leave or threatened us in any way. We were alone.
Or so I thought.
A faint scuffing sound came from behind one of the walls. Miss Wheeler and Oscar glanced at one another then rushed forward, unconcerned with creaking floorboards or their footsteps echoing in the empty room. Miss Wheeler placed her ear to one of the panels while Oscar pressed another in an attempt to unlatch a hidden door.
I joined them and knocked on one of the panels. Nothing happened.
Oscar knocked, too. We both tapped wall panels, searching for a hollow space behind. Then Miss Wheeler ordered us to shush. She held up a finger as she pressed her ear to the wall. I heard it too. Muffled voices. Female ones.
