My Clockwork Muse (23 page)

Whatever its function, it was a complex
instrument that was both fascinating and vaguely terrifying at the
same time. The needles reposed like sleeping snakes and awakened in
me an uneasiness that caused my neck to tingle. I rubbed it and
could feel the raised welt of flesh that surrounded my mysterious
puncture wound. In a way, I was sorry I had uncovered the
device.

Olimpia rushed to where I was standing and
threw the sheet over the needle-machine, covering it. "I don't know
if Father would want you to see this," she said fearfully, but
without reproach.

"I daresay, there may be a lot of things he
would not want me to see. Like what is behind that door, for
example." My eye had lit upon the dark recess of a short arched
corridor leading out of the room. I strode past the table upon
which Pluto lay sprawled and dissected and rounded the edge of a
deep bookcase full of dusty tomes. The door stood at the end of the
narrow archway. Despite Olimpia's protestations, I tried the handle
and found it locked.

"What is in here?" I demanded.

"I don't know."

"Oh, surely, Olimpia, you must have some
idea. This is your house, after all."

"I have never been down here without Father,"
she said. "I am not allowed—and I have learned never to ask
questions."

I turned back to the door, muttering to
myself. "Clockwork cats, ancient texts and arcane devices... It is
madness." I rattled the door handle violently, but to no avail. I
let the handle fall with a
clank
and turned and strode out
of the archway and rounded a corner...

...and found my head painfully striking the
open door of a cupboard. I made to slam it shut when something
inside caught my eye. I looked and saw racks of glass vials filled
with various substances, both powder and liquid. Some were labeled,
some were not. I scanned them quickly out of idle curiosity until I
found one with an oddly familiar look. It was filled with a
red-tinted fluid. On the handwritten label was the word
'Laudanum'.

My heart leapt into my throat.

I inspected it closely to be sure, but there
could be no doubt. It was written in my hand. Open loop, closed
loop, sweeping horizontal. It was identical to my 'Laudan'
vial.

I patted my pockets only to realize that I
had left my vial at Witherspoon's. Everything else from the
previous day I had stashed in my room—including my pepperbox
revolver, whose lack I sorely felt at that moment.

"Eddy," Olimpia called to me from the
laboratory.

"Just a moment," I replied quickly.

There was something else in the cupboard, a
folded sheet of paper. It had been wedged in behind the vial and
had fallen askew into the empty space. I opened it and found
handwritten upon it many iterations of the word 'Laudanum', written
in an evolving script. Evolving, I say, because the first words
were in a hand I did not recognize. But with each iteration, the
letters became increasingly similar to my own until the handwriting
was identical to that found on my vial and in my desk drawer.

As if the writer had been practicing.

Now I was filled with fear. The paper slipped
from my fingers and fluttered to the floor. At the same time, I
heard the scuffling of footsteps coming towards me out of the
darkness. Surely, Coppelius had returned. Unsure what to do, my
instinct was to replace the vial in the cupboard. But there was no
time. I quickly thrust it into my pocket and turned just as the man
himself came shuffling out of the gloom towards me.

"Edgar, there you are," Coppelius called when
he saw me. "No need to worry, my boy. I got rid of him for
you."

I uttered a nervous little laugh. "Got rid of
whom?" I asked, hoping I did not look too guilty. With a trembling
hand, I calmly smoothed my hair in what I hoped was a nonchalant
manner. Then I noticed the little sheet of paper next to my foot. I
surreptitiously tried to cover it with the sole of my shoe.

"Can you believe it? Gessler," Coppelius
laughed. "He brought his cops looking for you. He was none too
happy with me either, after that little chase I gave him the other
day. It'll take more than a handful of beat cops to bring down
Coppelius, though."

"He knows I'm here?"

"He's looking for you. But don't worry, he
doesn't suspect a thing. He's off on a whole different case now,
one that he thinks only on an outside chance might bear some
connection to you. I put him off that notion, though. He won't be
back anytime soon, believe me."

"What case?" I asked.

"Oh, some crazy affair out in Fordham. Out by
your cottage, in fact. Wait! That must be why he suspects you. I
hadn't put that together until just now. Ha! Now we know why I'm a
doctor and not a detective. Oh, my! I have embarrassed myself
before the great Dupin. From now on, I’ll leave the sleuthing to
you, Edgar." Coppelius laughed.

"What sort of affair would interest the
police in Fordham?"

"A tomb desecration," Coppelius said. "Seems
some lunatic disinterred a corpse and extracted all of its teeth.
The family, of course, are beside themselves—12"

My hair stood on end. I did not wait for
Coppelius to finish.

I started running.

I bounded up the steps, taking them two at a
time, guided only by the dim sliver of light that shone through the
cracks in the door above. I could hear Coppelius shouting after me,
but I did not hesitate for a second. In fact, all thought had
escaped me. I was running, yes, but to where?

My impulse was to leave the house and never
come back; to flee the city, in fact. But by the time I burst
through the door into a ground floor corridor, my reason had
returned and I knew what I had to do. I ran for the foyer.

Dansby popped his head out of a doorway as I
rushed past. "Wait for me here!" I cried as I rounded the corner
and bounded up yet another set of stairs—again taking the steps 2
and 3 at a time—this one leading to my second floor room.

I rushed inside and flung open the drawer of
my bureau. I began flinging clothes aside, digging through piles of
clean and folded stockings.

"Watcha doin', Eddy?"

"Ah, here it is!" I grasped the little wooden
box and rattled it to make sure the teeth were still inside. Then,
flinging open the doors of my wardrobe, I began groping blindly on
the top shelf until my fingers lit upon the familiar shape of my
pepperbox revolver, right where I had hidden it last night.

"Eddy! Whatcha doin'?"

"What I should have done a long time ago," I
said.

"Get a decent haircut?"

"Shut up!" I found the box of bullets and put
everything in the pockets of my frock coat.

"What, then?"

I turned and saw Tap staring at me curiously
from the window sill. "I'm putting an end to this business with
Burton, that's what. No one has seen that story but he. No one! He
means to drive me mad, and pin these crimes on me? Well, I will
turn the tables on him. I must retrieve that story—"

"'The Tell-Tale Teeth'?"

"Yes," I said. "I mean, no. 'Berenice'. I
gave it to Burton."

"Yeah, that's what I said. The teeth story!
I'm with ya, buddy."

The fact of my situation seemed to hit me all
at once. "My God, Tap. I must recover that story. If anyone sees
it, I'll hang!"

"We better hurry then."

"'We'?"

"Yeah, meaning both of us.
Dos
Hombres
. Me and you, Eddy. I'm comin' with ya!"

"Sorry, but you're staying here." I pulled
out my revolver and eyed the chambers, making sure that it was
still loaded. Satisfied, I put it back in my pocket and strode to
the door. I looked back at Tap. "Make sure nobody snoops around in
here."

"Yeah, sure thing, Eddy. That's all I'm good
for. Thanks."

"And stay away from Coppelius."

"You don't have to tell me twice. I wouldn't
go anywhere near that crocodile."

I left the room and closed the door behind
me. I could hear Tap shouting at me as I ran down the corridor.
"I'll just fly around the yard then. Maybe I'll go on over to
Longfellow's and inspire him to some poetry—for all the good it
does me here..."

When I turned the corner, I saw Dansby
standing at the bottom of the stairs. "To the train station!" I
cried, and he strode off rapidly. As I started down after him, I
saw that Olimpia had appeared in his place.

"You!" I said, moving around her.

Her eyes expressed hurt and dismay at my
reaction to her. "Eddy, what is it?" she asked.

"Don't play innocent with me," I said. "That
routine has just about played itself out." Despite the harshness of
my tone, I felt more sadness than anger. I had come to trust
Olimpia more than anyone else I knew—even to love her. To think
that she could have betrayed me was a blow from which I was not
sure I could recover.

"What routine?" she asked, wide-eyed. "Eddy,
please. You're frightening me."

"
I
frighten
you
? Why didn't you
tell me your father had been practicing my handwriting."

"Your handwriting? What are you talking
about?"

I reached into my pocket and thrust the vial
of red liquid under her nose. "Here! This is what I'm talking
about. Look familiar?"

She drew back and examined it closely. "Eddy,
you don't think—?"

"Oh, I know what I think," I said, shoving
the vial back into my pocket. I regretted showing it to her. I
certainly did not want Coppelius to know I had it. I needed to get
out of the house before the doctor came upstairs after me. I opened
the front door and looked each way along the carriage drive. But
there was no sign of Dansby. I popped my head back inside the door.
"And to think you looked right at it—and didn't say a word."

"Looked right at what, Eddy? What are you
saying?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you? The
handwriting is all too clear to me. I'm leaving now, Miss
Coppelius."

"Wherever you're going, I'm going with
you."

"Why? So you can spy on me for your father?
Come to think of it, how did you come to be in my sitting room
yesterday morning?" I thought I heard the clatter of carriage
wheels, and I looked out again. Dansby was driving around the side
of the house. My mind was swimming. I withdrew my face from the
door, ready to give Olimpia some more. But the palm of her hand was
waiting for me. She slapped me hard across the cheek.

"You have no right to talk to me that way. I
don't know anything about your handwriting or what Father has done.
I know he's not perfect, but he is the only father I have ever had.
If he has done anything to hurt you..." I saw a tear burst from one
of her eyes and race down her cheek.

I hugged her and then held her at arm's
length, gazing at her deeply. When she looked up I saw that her
lashes were moist with tears. "I believe you," I said. My heart
wanted to leap with joy, for it was true. It had crushed me to
think that her affection for me was counterfeit. I had not wanted
to believe it. I could see in her eyes that I had been a fool to
doubt her. My cheek still stung. I deserved to have the other
walloped as well.

Dansby called from outside. "Ready for you,
sir."

"But I must go now," I said. I turned and
started for the door, but felt a tug at my sleeve. I looked back
and saw Olimpia smiling at me expectantly.

"You're not going anywhere without me, Edgar
Allan Poe."

"But, Olimpia, where I am going there is much
danger. You might get hurt."

"It would hurt me more to leave you, Eddy.
We’re a team, remember?"

Sighing, I closed my eyes and smiled. "I
remember," I said. I took her hand and we ran down the steps
together and jumped into Dansby's waiting carriage.

~ * * * ~

"That story will be my undoing," I told
Olimpia in the hackney cab on our way to Burton's office. Dansby
had dropped us off at the train station and we had taken a train
into the city. I felt I had to retrieve that story from Burton
before he showed it to anyone, certainly before he printed it in
the next issue of his magazine. I only hoped I could track him down
in time to stop him.

"But certainly the story implicates Mr.
Burton more than you, doesn't it, Eddy?"

"Indeed it would, Olimpia—in a more just
world than this one. I am already suspected of the Rue Morgue and
Amontillado murders. I fear the Berenice affair will be the nail in
my coffin."

The air through the open front of the
carriage caressed our cheeks and tousled our hair as the horse
clip-clopped through the crowded streets of the city. I had
promised the cabbie extra to hurry and I could hear him snapping at
sluggish teamsters and oblivious pedestrians alike as we sped on
our way.

"We must make Inspector Gessler understand,"
Olimpia said. "Surely, when he discovers that Mr. Burton is
not—"

"They are all in it together, Olimpia. There
is not a one of them I can trust. Certainly not with my life."
Concealed behind the chest-high front doors of the cab, I withdrew
my revolver and once again inspected the chambers. I had already
checked and re-checked the loading, I knew. But I was nervous
beyond reason that I should arrive at the crucial moment only to
find myself unarmed. "The scoundrels give me no choice, Olimpia.
They have brought this on themselves. There is only one course of
action left open to me." I straightened, replacing the pepperbox in
my pocket from where I could retrieve it easily. I gazed sternly
into Olimpia's eyes. "And I plan to take it. Try to keep your head
down."

Olimpia started to protest, but the cab had
stopped and the driver announced our destination. He had pulled the
hackney up alongside the curb in front of Burton's office. "Pay the
man!" I cried to Olimpia and jumped out of the carriage.