When Muddy gave us permission, Eddie and I climbed the stairs to pay Sissy a visit. The old woman met us at the landing and spoke in hushed tones about "keeping her daughter quiet and calm." After this solemn warning, she left to gather the guest dishes, a conclusion I drew from the careless clink of china below. Sensing Eddie's need for privacy, I let him enter alone but kept watch through a crack in the door. He spoke to the dear girl and stroked her forehead with a tenderness he usually reserved for me. Uncommonly possessive of my friend, I made the odd exception for Sissy. I batted the door and opened it a little wider.
"I will stay here," Eddie said. His back was to me, shoulders stooped. "I want to, my darling."
"No, please, go to Mr. Lorbin's office," she said. Her complexion had gone the way of the tea, turning paler with each shallow breath.
"But Constable Harkness says I'm no longer a suspect."
She clutched the bedcovers and restrained a cough that could've been much deeper had she allowed it. "You want to solve a mystery like Detective Dupin. Admit it."
Eddie grew quiet. I couldn't see his face, but I knew the conflict that must've been written upon it because the damnable feeling had already waylaid me in the hallway. Despite a rational desire to set aside the hunt for Mr. Uppity, my pride would not allow it. But with this change in Sissy's health, I wondered if I should leave the house. My tail swished back and forth as I contemplated the dilemma. I had grown to love the girl almost as much as I loved Eddie.
"Go," she said. "I insist."
He kissed her on the cheek. "I do not deserve a wife as fair-minded as you, sweet Virginia."
She smiled wanly. "I will agree with you, but only because I am too tired to argue."
Whatever she said must have convinced him to go, for we made straightaway for the city, leaving behind the last of my uncertainty.
Two Makes a Pair
Two majestic townhomes sandwiched Mr. Lorbin's spectacle shop in the neighborhood of Logan Square, a fact confirming all roads did, indeed, lead to the blue-eyed bandit. Eddie and I stepped from our hired coach and approached the building with mutual urgency. This time, however, I minded my step. At the start of our journey, I'd neglected to match Eddie's stride and accidentally tripped him as we left the neighborhood. He admonished me for following him—he looked genuinely surprised that I had—but I overcame these protestations with a gentle trill, and we were on our way.
Once we reached busy Coates Street, Eddie hired a public carriage and told the driver to "seek out Ezekiel Lorbin's office, full chisel." We bounced through the cobblestone streets, my bones rattling like a sack of Mr. Coffin's nails. For my own amusement, I sharpened my claws on the tufted velvet cushion and sniffed the horsehair that spilled from the rips. Paradise on four wheels! From now on, I would stop running about like a madcat and use human transportation for all my future endeavors. Eddie ignored me and stared out the window, his brow furrowed. So I followed suit, observing the city from the back window of the closed coach. The faster we flew, the blurrier the people grew until I became almost dizzy.
Near the park, a group of nannies stopped their baby carriages and waved, signaling me out to their charges. The squeal of children seemed to shake Eddie from his preoccupation, and he began to talk again, first about the warm weather streak, then about his books. "We sold four copies of Tamerlane in an hour, Catters. Four," he said. He unbuttoned his overcoat and pulled the window shade, cutting the sun. "They'd been in storage for years—oh, how young and naïve the author!—and now they are in the hands of readers. If I solve this mystery, what might it do for my public profile? I could raise money for The Penn in no time."
The Home for Broken Humans appeared in the carriage window. As we passed, I stared back at the building and chirped with anticipation. When we traveled this way again, I would create a ruckus and force Eddie to stop the carriage. While I longed to hunt in Rittenhouse, a meeting with Caroline would have to suffice until I could detour our investigation. Between Josef's mention of her name in the bar and Mr. Uppity's receipt of her note, the young woman knew something of the crimes. I switched my tail and wondered if the hospital door would swing open for our arrival, because it would take this degree of precision to carry out my plan.
Our driver pulled curbside, and we departed for the optician's shop. What a funny word, optician. Why didn't they just say spectacle? I didn't know who this Lorbin fellow was, but I questioned his usefulness. To our mutual agreement, I waited for Eddie outside on the stoop and surveyed the street for any sign of the dappled mare and gig. Mostly residential, this sedate piece of Philadelphia held little activity, save for a group of mourners in the cemetery across the way. I recognized it as the burial ground I'd passed before my confrontation with Claw. I watched as the humans lowered a coffin into the ground with ropes, their grip unsteady and faltering. The wailing that accompanied the event pricked my ears. For all its certainty, death's timing is decidedly uncertain. This I feared most. One day, one very unexpected day, I would wake up beneath Sissy's cold, grey arm. But I would not wail as these humans did. I would become very, very still—
A bespectacled Mr. Lorbin opened the door, pushing me from the step, and, mercifully, from my morbid obsessions. The glasses magnified his eyes to an alarming size. I could've watched the twin brown fish swim in their bowls all afternoon. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help, Mr. Poe. Try the Wills Hospital. They should be able to help with your inquiry."
"Thank you, Mr. Lorbin. You've been most helpful." Eddie leapt to the sidewalk with excitement. "If you are to follow me, Cattarina, you must be quick. I am a man in search of answers."
I scurried down the street after him, working to keep pace. Imagine my surprise when we turned up the walkway toward the Home for Broken Humans. Great Cat Above, I hadn't expected this! A comely woman with slender hands and narrow shoulders greeted Eddie and invited him into the entry hall. The smell of boiled chicken permeated the air, giving it a gelatinous feel.
"Good afternoon, sir," she said to Eddie. "Welcome to the Wills Hospital. Are you here to see a patient?"
"No, I'm here to see Dr. Burton." He reached to take his hat off. When he realized he'd left it at home, he clasped his hands behind his back instead. "On the recommendation of Ezekiel Lorbin."
Not wanting the "shoo" again, I stationed myself behind the usual potted plant and waited.
"Dr. Burton is occupied. A patient died rather suddenly this morning, and he's been attending to the details." Her bottom lip quivered. "Terrible tragedy the way Mr. Sullivan passed. The police are being summoned—" She inhaled sharply and covered her mouth with her fingertips. "You must forgive me. I talk far too much."
"On the contrary." The corner of Eddie's mustache lifted. "I find it helps during trials of fortitude. Madame, I stand before you, eager to share in your burden. Now then, how did Mr. Sullivan die?"
"I cannot speak it."
"Then show me."
She motioned to her throat, drawing her finger across it in a line. "Who would be heartless enough to kill a man with one leg? And then steal his artificial one?" She laid her hands along her cheeks. "He'd just gotten it, too. Brand new steel contraption with springs at the knee."
I slunk from my hiding place and crawled around the room, scuttling the baseboards like a cockroach.