Imogen Robertson - Circle of Shadows

Adolphus Glucke was not provided with an apartment in court, but in common with several other senior members of the Privy Council, his house was only a short stroll from the grounds. There he had lived with his books and scores, unmarried, a little aloof but devoted to the service of the Duke and Maulberg. His home was one of the first in Neue Strasse, a tall, narrow building that reminded Crowther of those built in Soho Square or Portland Place for families coming to spend the season in Town, and not concerned if they were a little cramped. The height of the frontage gave Crowther the impression he was being looked down upon. He turned; the view was much the same that he had first had of the palace, yet, set to the west of the marketplace as it was, Glucke’s house seemed to be looking at it slightly askance. The street was dark and quiet, and Krall hurried them up the steps and into the hallway, glancing about him as he did so. At the bottom of a steep internal staircase was a small group of people. Krall barked and glowered, and it was established with reasonable quickness that they were Glucke’s housekeeper, who had discovered him, and her daughter and son-in-law to whom she had run; also the member of the Watch, who had just begun his work of singing out the hours and Biblical quotes when she gave him the news. Mr Glucke’s footman was the last of the group.

‘Has the body been touched?’ Krall asked. Crowther began to translate the exchanges from German to English for Mrs Westerman.

The son-in-law stepped forward. ‘We didn’t like to, sir. All looks so strange we weren’t sure what to do beyond call the Watch.’

‘You did well, son. Right, one step at a time. Mistress Schneider, tell me what happened. Start at the start and go slow.’

Mistress Schneider smoothed her apron and wet her lips. For some reason Crowther liked her. She seemed young to have a daughter full-grown and married. He was reminded of his own housekeeper and wondered, briefly, how she did.

‘Shall I start in the morning, sir?’ she said.

‘Whenever you think best,’ Krall replied, lifting his eyebrows.

‘Mr Glucke was at court, as he always is in the mornings with the Privy Council, when there was a great banging at the door. I opened it to find old Mr Kupfel on the doorstep.’

‘The Alchemist?’ Harriet whispered to Crowther. He nodded but kept his eye on the housekeeper.

‘Did he visit here often, mistress?’ Krall asked.

She hesitated. ‘He used to, sir, but these last years it’s been more his son that comes. Not in the morning, though.’

‘Mr Glucke buy a lot of face potions, did he?’

She shook her head, unsmiling. ‘Young Mr Kupfel has done very well, sir. He is even spoken of as a future Mayor of Ulrichsberg. Mr Glucke was often visited by the better people in town, those who have not the rank to attend court.’

Krall scratched the back of his head. ‘I understand you, mistress. But it was Adam Kupfel came this morning? Do you know what his business was?’

‘He wouldn’t share with me, now would he? No, all I know is he seemed to have worked himself into a rage. He said he’d wait for Mr Glucke in the study, and beyond getting me to give him a plate of something hot, that was all his talk with me, and even that cost him so much twitching and sneering you’d think I was a dog not to be trusted without a muzzle.’

‘How long did he wait?’

‘It was an hour till Mr Glucke came back — so early in the afternoon. Then there were voices raised.’

‘Raised loud enough for you to make any sense of what was said?’

‘Two words only from Kupfel. My master always spoke low. They were “thieves”, and “fools”. I thought maybe the children had been rifling through Kupfel’s junk again.’

‘And then?’

‘Kupfel stormed out in the same mood he arrived in. I gave my master his meal.’

‘He did not dine in court?’

‘He only sups there from time to time, sir. The food is too rich for him. The food was too rich for him,’ she corrected herself. ‘The master asked me to come in and clear away his plate, then he went down to the cats.’

Crowther stopped translating and looked at Krall with his eyebrows raised. The District Officer sighed and turned to them. ‘Mr Glucke was a scholar, but he had his quirks. He had a fancy for cats — used to have them in the study while he worked. Unsanitary, I always thought it, though they are pretty enough. He’s always had a dozen or so of them at any one time.’

‘Ah yes,’ Harriet said to herself. ‘The mechanical mice.’

‘Then what?’ Krall said to the housekeeper.

‘Then nothing, District Officer. I knew he was going back to court in the evening, but time was getting close for his usual hour of leaving, and there was no sign or sound of him. I knocked and got no answer, so I went into the garden round at the back and looked in through the window. I could see him sitting there, but he didn’t move when I knocked. The only things that were moving were the cats, and they seemed …’

‘Seemed what, mistress?’

‘Seemed strange, sir. They were all gathered round him. I thought he was ill so I fetched my son-in-law here to help William knock down the door, and then we saw …’

‘So the door to the study was locked from within?’ Crowther asked.

‘With the key left in the lock. The garden door was locked too, though there was no key in that.’

‘Thank you, mistress,’ Krall said slowly. ‘I think it best if we go to the study now.’

Crowther did not move. ‘Madam, this may sound a little unusual, but did your master have anything with an owl on it?’

The housekeeper frowned and was shaking her head, when the footman touched her shoulder and whispered to her.

‘Of course — on his watch, sir. On the case.’

‘Thank you.’

‘The cats?’ Krall said suspiciously.

‘Still there, sir. We left the door to the garden open, thinking they’d be off, but they don’t seem to want to leave him.’

Adolphus Glucke was seated in the centre of the room; he had been a thin man in late middle age. With a slight shock Harriet realised he was the man she had seen during their first evening in Ulrichsberg, the one who had reminded her of Crowther. His body had slid forward slightly in the chair and his head was tilted back. He could have been sleeping off his beer on a tavern bench, except his left hand was covered in blood. On his lap was curled a large snow-white cat. Another wound its way in a regular figure of eight between his feet. The room seemed full of white fur and a low throb of purring. Krall entered first. Harriet and Crowther followed more slowly, looking about them at the unfamiliar chamber. It was smallish and square. The wooden floor was covered with red and black rugs, a little threadbare in places. Three walls were covered in books. The fourth was dominated by a French window; the night air blew softly in through it, carrying the scents of the garden. Tasteful, forgettable landscapes hung either side of it. The desk had its back to the light.

Crowther crossed to the body and looked into Glucke’s upturned face. The cat on his lap turned its head towards him, put back its ears and hissed. Crowther ignored it. Glucke’s mouth was filled with earth. It was as if the head had been held back in its current position and the dry soil poured in until it overflowed round his cheeks, leaving a haze of particles over the skin. Around the eyes it was darker, as if it had turned to mud. Crowther felt a chill run through him; the man had been crying as he died. One of the cats was pushing against Glucke’s hanging hand as if wanting to be stroked. Crowther hoped they had been this close to him as he died, that somewhere under his suffering he had felt their comfort.