A bell tinkled as Jason pushed open the door of Mr. Frank’s establishment. Hardly a flourishing business, paint peeled from the woodwork, the interior grim and badly lit, the shelves on the walls poorly stocked. A curtain was dragged aside, and a man stepped into the room. Not very old, Jason guessed, but he didn’t appear robust, his grayish skin tones not a good advertisement for his tonic. He nodded to Jason and rested his hands on the counter. “May I help you, sir?”
Jason handed him his card then pulled the empty bottle from his coat pocket. “I believe that a Mr. Bartholomew Smyth purchased this from you.”
“I wouldn’t remember the gentleman. I sell so many of them.” He reached out and took the bottle. “That’s one of ours. A popular item.”
“What is in it?”
He pushed out his chest. “That’s a secret, milord. I’m not about to have it duplicated by others.”
“I shouldn’t think you would, seeing as it killed Mr. Smyth.”
His pale eyes widened with alarm. “Killed him? No, indeed. That’s not possible. There’s nothing in my elixir to harm anyone.”
“There’s arsenic in it,” Jason said. “Enough to slowly kill Mr. Smyth within a matter of weeks.”
Frank shook his head violently. “Not in my nerve tonic, sir!” He reached behind him and removed an identical bottle from the shelf. After removing the lid, he put the bottle to his lips and drank. He slammed the bottle down and beat his chest. “As you see I am still hale and hearty. Would I take such a risk if I believed it to contain arsenic?”
“May I examine its contents?”
“You may do what you wish with it. Take it away and test it. You won’t find arsenic in it. You must look elsewhere for the explanation of Mr. Smyth’s death, God rest his soul. Did he suffer any hair loss?”
“I believe so.”
Frank nodded. “If arsenic was in it, I did not put it there. I’m not in the business of killing my customers. I use beef blood, marrow, and salt, mixed with water and a little alcohol, to strengthen the body and heal the nerves.”
“Could it have been in the water?”
“Absolutely not! I use pure rainwater, which I collect myself. Nor do I add opiates, as they are contrary to my philosophy. If there’s arsenic in this, it would smell of bitter almonds.” Frank pushed the bottle he’d drunk from across the counter. “No trace of it. Care to try?”
Jason waved it under his nose. It smelled as Mr. Frank had suggested, of salty beef and the faint tang of cheap gin.
“I suggest that arsenic was added to that gentleman’s tonic after he bought it. If I may be so bold. I hope this won’t get around, milord,” Franks added, his hands clenched on the countertop. “It would destroy my business.”
“Not unless you are found to have destroyed your customers’ health with your tonics, Mr. Frank. If you did, you can expect a visit from the Watch. Good day.”
Jason pocketed the bottles, deciding whether to give the new one to the surgeon to test. But he was already convinced that Bart’s was not an accidental death.
***
When Helen entered the drawing room, she found Lord Peyton in conversation with her mother. He rose to his feet with a smile.
As she greeted him, her heart gave another little skip. It was perplexing that he, of all people, could awaken something in her that had lain dormant for years. Especially, when Diana was determined to ensnare him. But did Peyton intend to marry? She’d never seen him at Almack’s, that select establishment nicknamed the marriage mart she’d attended with her family over the years. Or any of the debutante balls she’d suffered through. And she was sure she would remember him, as wallflowers observed far more than those on the dance floor. She sat down beside her mother on the sofa.
Today, Peyton had teamed a gray suit of superfine with a white waistcoat embroidered in silver leaves, his cravat tied in a simple knot. She admired his careless grace as he rested his long fingers on the arms of the chair, crossed his ankles encased in gleaming leather, and smiled at her.
His smile was so warm she couldn’t help smiling back.
“So, Lady Helen. Lady Kinsey informs me you have been questioning the staff. Have you anything new to tell me?”
She relayed her scant information. “I realize it’s not particularly helpful,” she said finally. “Perhaps you have learned something of significance?”
He raised his eyebrows, possibly at her presumption. “As I have told your mother, it appears that the tonic bottle was tampered with after it was purchased.”
A chill rushed through her veins. “By someone in this house?”
“That remains a possibility, of course, although there is no conclusive evidence.” He uncrossed his ankles and leaned forward. “I understand Lady Diana’s ball will keep the family in London. Lady Helen, although I do appreciate your assistance during this investigation, it would be wise for you to leave this matter to Bow Street and to me.”
“Yes, Helen. What Lord Peyton is saying, diplomatically, is that it could be dangerous if you were to take it upon yourself to uncover the truth.” Mama gasped and put a hand to her breast, as their perilous circumstances suddenly became clear. “It is unthinkable that we might have a murderer in our midst. We might be slain in our beds!”
