“This Loveheart chap,” said Constable Walnut, with a mouthful of food. “They say he’s a bit off his head.”
Our carriage pulled up in front of the house, which was white and enormous. We were welcomed by a butler who led us into a hallway, where a spiral staircase coiled to the heavens, with a violent red carpet dotted with hearts. Mr Loveheart greeted us as he descended the staircase, wearing electric blue velvet with heart shapes embroidered on his waistcoat, and his hair was the most shocking colour of yellow. Constable Walnut leaned toward me. “If he wore that down the East End he’d get knifed pretty quickly.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Mr Loveheart. His voice had a soft, supernatural quality to it. He was really quite strange to look at, but fascinating.
“Good evening, Mr Loveheart. I am–”
“I know who you both are. How can I assist you in your inquiries?”
“You recently sent a grandfather clock to Mr Albert Chimes, the clockmaker. How do you know this man?”
“I do not know him. My father used his services. I returned one of his creations. I’m doing a spot of spring cleaning, getting rid of the clutter.”
I handed him the client list. “Do you know any of these people, sir?”
Mr Loveheart took the list and read it, his eyes peeking up from the paper. “I know of them all. I have met only one of them – Elijah Whistle at the Royal Academy. He’s a donkey of a painter, earns his money flattering the rich, painting them on thrones and such.”
“He hasn’t painted your picture then, sir?”
Mr Loveheart smiled generously. “I would rather stab myself with a fork that let him try that.”
Constable Walnut scribbled down some notes, chuckling to himself.
I handed him the photograph of the girl. “Do you recognize her?”
“No. What has she got to do with Albert Chimes? Has he been a naughty boy and done something terrible to her?”
“Why, do you think he’s capable of such a thing?” I said, staring at him.
“Have you seen his clocks? They are quite remarkable, rather special. My father knew him very well, did a great deal of business with him. He said he was quite a strange man. Unusual people, in my experience, tend to have unusual hobbies.”
“What are you suggesting, Mr Loveheart?”
“I’m not suggesting anything, I am telling you that in my opinion he probably killed her, and many other children too.”
“Do you have proof?”
“No, sadly, but have you asked your list of clients why his clocks are so special? Why they would pay a small fortune to have one?”
“Tell me why,” I demanded.
Mr Loveheart sighed. “I am not going to do your job for you, sergeant.”
“Then stop wasting my time. I cannot arrest a man without evidence. If you know something, tell me. A young girl’s life may be in danger.”
Mr Loveheart was quite taken aback for a moment, and then laughed. “Oh, you’re getting cross with me. I have no evidence. You must find that. As for the girl, I think you are too late.”
“Mr Loveheart! Enough of this nonsense.” I was furious with him. “Give me proof so I can arrest this villain”
“I will give you some advice, Detective Sergeant White,” Loveheart said with a dark seriousness. “Don’t arrest him. Kill him.”
“I’m not a vigilante.”
“It will never go trial. He’ll never swing for it. Dearie me. Are you out of your depth, sergeant?” He examined me whimsically. “Yes, you are, aren’t you. You’re a clever chap but you do need assistance with this one. So, let me help you a little. The client list you hold in your hands – they are all involved. Including my late father. But I am not. Who have you got left to visit?”
“In the morning we are going to question Dr Edmund Cherrytree.”
“Ahh, the psychoanalyst. He’s a nasty piece of work. Look at his photographs when you are there, sergeant. Especially the ones in his office. Look carefully.”
“He’s wasting our time, sergeant,” noted Constable Walnut. “I think he’s been on the sherry and possibly the laudanum.”
“Shut up, Walnut. Mr Loveheart, stop playing games with me, just tell me what you know.”
“Just look at the photographs, sergeant. You need to see for yourself. You are entering into something very unusual. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Clarence has hired someone by now to get rid of you.”
“Why are you telling me any of this?”
“Because I don’t care about these people. They are monsters. And I know a great deal about monsters. Maybe I want to see a happy ending. Maybe I have seen too much horror myself. I believe you have. You know where to find me if you have any other questions. I take it you can see yourselves out.” He gestured at the door.
“Wait,” I said.
“Yes?’ replied Mr Loveheart curiously.
“What is happening to the children? I must know.”
Mr Loveheart looked a little sad, then straightened his lacy cuff. “He’s putting them inside the clocks, sergeant.” And off he walked, grinning like a schoolboy, and left us standing there for a moment, dumbfounded.