The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Ninety-Seven
Michael Who?
“Look,
Inspector”
Abberline heard the words.
“Inspector?
Inspector?”
A sharp pain struck his shoulder bringing him
out of the brilliant white light and into the darkness of the Room.
The pain was Wilmot’s cane stabbing at him.
“You have
slept half the day away, my good man. Bad enough you fell asleep
before night fall yesterday. But already it is near to noon and you
have done nothing but snore.”
Wilmot went to poke Abberline
again, but the Inspector brushed the cane away.
“Do not be
sticking me with that cane m’Lord,” Abberline warned as he pulled
himself upright and out of the chair. “I am flesh and blood and not
a sack of grain on the floor waiting for your inspection.”
Wilmot
huffed at Abberline, his cane now down, tapping the hard wood floor.
“I say...quite impertinent. You were handed the reins by
Crane, yet you totally ignore your duties. Tis a shame there are no
other officers of the law to continue this investigation. You have
done nothing but make a shambles of things…and….”
“Quiet!”
Abberline held up his hand as he tried to get his bearings on the
Room.
Another huff from Rochester. “How dare you sir! I am
Lord Rochester and I will not tolerate such behavior.”
Abberline’s eyes became slits as he looked in Wilmot’s
direction. “You’ll be tolerating it because I am telling you too.
As far as making a shambles, may I remind you that this situation,”
Abberline waved his hand, “was not of my doing nor do I have
immediate access to those that could enlighten us. Though I must
admit I was close…she was there…in my dreams…about to show me…I
saw…” Fred’s words drifted off.
“A girl? A girl? We
fear for ourselves and you sit there dreaming of a girl? And what did
you see, pray tell, sir? How can one manage to solve this mystery by
mere dreams?”
Wilmot turned hard on his heel and strutted
away, his cane coming down hard with every other step.
Abberline
lowered himself into his chair, trying to recall the dream. But all
he could recall was a color…no colors…lots of them…rainbow upon
rainbow of color. He put his head into his hands, rubbing his face,
trying to pull out bits and pieces of his memory.
If only he
could remember, he thought. Perhaps it would help.
But then
his thoughts turned as Wilmot’s words came back to him.
Wilmot
had accused him of sleeping half the day away. That meant another day
had passed.
That meant that others would be gone.
He
looked over his fingers, getting a feel of the Room, trying to
recognize faces, trying to see who was not among those he knew.
The
yellow boa caught his eye. Its' feathery, billowing texture
contrasted against the red velvet of Cesar’s chair. The inspector
stood and made his way to it, picking up BonBon’s accessory. Next
to it was an older piece of evidence, Pvt. Lerner’s leather cuff.
As if they would break, Abberline gently picked each item up.
With curiosity, he lifted the boa to his nose and soaked in the
essence of the vanished lady, then returned back to his table and
placed them both in the evidence box.
“A thousand pardons,
Inspector.”
Abberline turned at the voice and found himself
facing James Barrie. He stared for a second at the clean shaven,
angelic-like face of the man. He seemed to exude innocence. His
gentleness and mild manners made him recall Sam…they shared the
same mannerisms.
“Inspector?” Barrie attempted to get his
attention again.
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Barrie. Just thinking of
past victims. Go on, you were saying?”
“Over there,
Inspector. I left it alone. Abhor weapons of any kind, you know. You
will find a revolver. I believe it belonged to Lt. Victor.” Barrie
leaned closer to Abberline's ear to whisper. “I felt you should get
to it before Mr. Jung. Don’t think it would be proper for a man of
his caliber to have another weapon, would we?”
Abberline
nodded as he brushed past the Scotsman. “No, no, Mr. Barrie, quite
right you are. I shall fetch it immediately. Thank you for your
concern.”
“That is not all I found Inspector.”
Abberline had taken a few steps away from the writer and
found himself turning about to face him again.
It was then
his eyes caught the musical instrument in his hand, hanging down at
his side, like a small child waiting to be introduced.
Barrie
lifted it into his arms. Abberline found himself admiring the fine
workmanship of the guitar.
“I am afraid this belonged to
Michael,” Barrie explained.
Abberline shook his head, not
recalling anyone by the name of Michael.
Barrie’s face
filled with a sadness as he realized no one else in the Room had
taken the time to learn the Irishman‘s first name.
“Roux,
Inspector. You knew him as Roux.”