Read Online The Left Hand of Justice by Jess Faraday - Free Book Online
Authors: Jess Faraday
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interesting. It’s sort of the other side of what you used to do. You used to help people channel spirits—”
“I did nothing of the sort—”
“You know you did. You just called it something else. Of course you didn’t care as long as it was making you money.”
“Money you didn’t mind spending. But that’s not the point. My formulae helped people to develop what was already inside—”
“They came to you for help, and how many ended up in the madhouse or in the grave?”
“They came to me for a quick path to power. I gave it to them.”
Why did so many of their discussions turn into a fight?
“They came to you for help,” Sophie insisted. “But Hermine actually does help people. She helps them keep the spirits away.”
“Really?” Corbeau quickly forgot their argument. If Sophie was correct, Madame Boucher had been working the reverse of Corbeau’s own research. Where Corbeau’s potions had brought out her clients’ latent supernatural abilities, Hermine Boucher was helping people suppress them. “How?”
“Do you remember, Bernadette?” Sophie asked, suddenly, irritatingly switching the subject. “That little basement in Montmartre? When it was just the two of us?”
“I told you never to call me that.”
“Relax, there’s no one around but Marie, and she’s not talking. I miss those days. You do, too. Sleeping all day, champagne all night—remember?”
“That was you. I spent my nights in the lab.”
“Not all of them. Don’t you miss it, Elise?”
Corbeau ground her teeth in frustration. She wanted to steer the conversation back to the Church of the Divine Spark, but she couldn’t resist setting Sophie straight. “Which part? Holed up for fourteen hours at a time nursing a still in a poorly ventilated basement, or spending the rest of the time hiding from the people who wanted to kill me and take my recipes? Hard to remember which part was more fun.”
“I meant the part where it was you and me against the world.”
Corbeau sighed. Slowly the fighting urge began to drain away. She did remember that part, and not without fondness. But it was too late and too much water under the bridge. “We’ve tried that, Soph. It never quite works out, though, does it?”
“Only because you’re a tyrant.”
“And because you won’t do as you’re told.”
They glared at each other for a moment. Sophie cracked a smile and looked away, shaking her head.
“What about Maria Kalderash?” Corbeau asked.
The smile faded. Sophie set her jaw in the defiant way that Corbeau knew well.
“If you’re looking for a murderer, Inspector, look no further than that witch.”
“Wait. Who said anything about a murder? What do you know?”
“All I’m saying is that if anyone would want to do Hermine harm, it would be that woman.”
“Why?”
Corbeau could think of a handful of reasons, all neatly presented in Javert’s dossier. But Javert had put the articles together. Javert had an agenda. Additional information would help Corbeau to better evaluate where fact left off and Javert’s desire to arrest Dr. Kalderash began.
“Hermine brought that Gypsy chit up from the gutter and right into her house. She introduced those ridiculous contraptions into society and made Kalderash’s name synonymous with fashion. Then when it came time to return the favor, the good doctor begged off on some high-and-mighty scruples.”
“What did she want Kalderash to do?”
Sophie looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. But whatever it was, she wouldn’t do it, and Hermine was furious. That’s why they parted ways.”
“Sounds like Madame Boucher had more of a reason to turn murderer than the Gypsy,” Corbeau said.
Sophie frowned. Clearly she hadn’t realized that this was the logical conclusion of her statement. “I’m just telling you what happened, Inspector. That woman stabbed Hermine in the back. There was bad blood between them, and I wouldn’t be surprised if whatever happened, the
“I did nothing of the sort—”
“You know you did. You just called it something else. Of course you didn’t care as long as it was making you money.”
“Money you didn’t mind spending. But that’s not the point. My formulae helped people to develop what was already inside—”
“They came to you for help, and how many ended up in the madhouse or in the grave?”
“They came to me for a quick path to power. I gave it to them.”
Why did so many of their discussions turn into a fight?
“They came to you for help,” Sophie insisted. “But Hermine actually does help people. She helps them keep the spirits away.”
“Really?” Corbeau quickly forgot their argument. If Sophie was correct, Madame Boucher had been working the reverse of Corbeau’s own research. Where Corbeau’s potions had brought out her clients’ latent supernatural abilities, Hermine Boucher was helping people suppress them. “How?”
“Do you remember, Bernadette?” Sophie asked, suddenly, irritatingly switching the subject. “That little basement in Montmartre? When it was just the two of us?”
“I told you never to call me that.”
“Relax, there’s no one around but Marie, and she’s not talking. I miss those days. You do, too. Sleeping all day, champagne all night—remember?”
“That was you. I spent my nights in the lab.”
“Not all of them. Don’t you miss it, Elise?”
Corbeau ground her teeth in frustration. She wanted to steer the conversation back to the Church of the Divine Spark, but she couldn’t resist setting Sophie straight. “Which part? Holed up for fourteen hours at a time nursing a still in a poorly ventilated basement, or spending the rest of the time hiding from the people who wanted to kill me and take my recipes? Hard to remember which part was more fun.”
“I meant the part where it was you and me against the world.”
Corbeau sighed. Slowly the fighting urge began to drain away. She did remember that part, and not without fondness. But it was too late and too much water under the bridge. “We’ve tried that, Soph. It never quite works out, though, does it?”
“Only because you’re a tyrant.”
“And because you won’t do as you’re told.”
They glared at each other for a moment. Sophie cracked a smile and looked away, shaking her head.
“What about Maria Kalderash?” Corbeau asked.
The smile faded. Sophie set her jaw in the defiant way that Corbeau knew well.
“If you’re looking for a murderer, Inspector, look no further than that witch.”
“Wait. Who said anything about a murder? What do you know?”
“All I’m saying is that if anyone would want to do Hermine harm, it would be that woman.”
“Why?”
Corbeau could think of a handful of reasons, all neatly presented in Javert’s dossier. But Javert had put the articles together. Javert had an agenda. Additional information would help Corbeau to better evaluate where fact left off and Javert’s desire to arrest Dr. Kalderash began.
“Hermine brought that Gypsy chit up from the gutter and right into her house. She introduced those ridiculous contraptions into society and made Kalderash’s name synonymous with fashion. Then when it came time to return the favor, the good doctor begged off on some high-and-mighty scruples.”
“What did she want Kalderash to do?”
Sophie looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. But whatever it was, she wouldn’t do it, and Hermine was furious. That’s why they parted ways.”
“Sounds like Madame Boucher had more of a reason to turn murderer than the Gypsy,” Corbeau said.
Sophie frowned. Clearly she hadn’t realized that this was the logical conclusion of her statement. “I’m just telling you what happened, Inspector. That woman stabbed Hermine in the back. There was bad blood between them, and I wouldn’t be surprised if whatever happened, the
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