I knew whom she meant, but still I asked, “He?”
“Moriarty,” she said, like there was something bitter in her mouth. Though she offered me an apologetic grin just after, perhaps realizing she’d spoken my surname too. And my mother’s. Thinking of my mother while standing near this woman made me want to climb inside her brain and search for all the answers only she could provide. I suddenly found I had to know everything. Now. I couldn’t seem to wait even another second to know.
“I have questions,” I blurted.
She stared at me just long enough to make me think maybe the makeup wasn’t covering all my fading bruises and then turned to walk toward the house. “Come inside,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ll talk.”
Alice led me to a French door that took us directly into the kitchen. Despite her self-proclaimed lack of English manners, she went immediately for the kettle when we walked through the door, which probably meant she’d lived in England quite a while. Before the water boiled, she managed to scrape together a board of cheese and grapes, some fresh strawberries and cherry tomatoes that looked more the size of golf balls than cherries. I picked one up and smelled it.
“You really do remember this place? You couldn’t have been more than three.”
“I remember a man and a woman. White hair.”
Alice nodded and brought over our mugs. Mine had milk, I noticed. Hers did not.
“My parents.”
“I always wished they were my grandparents. Mine are a little awful.”
“God, you talk like her and everything. I still can’t believe you’re here.”
I felt a tearing in my chest and furrowed my brow at the sensation. I’d been told of my resemblance to Mum all my life. I half thought it might be the reason why it took Dad so long to come round to hitting me. But this woman said it differently. She made me wish so much that Mum were here sitting with us. I wished it in a way I’d not dared to in six months. I looked down at the scuffed-up table to hide the way my eyes glazed over for a few seconds, then reached in my back pocket and tossed the picture on the table between us to give my voice time to recover as well.
Alice’s eyes went wide and she smoothed the photo flat against the table. “Where in the world did you get this?”
“I saw it at a memorial.”
Alice grinned. “And you took it? It really is amazing how like her you are.”
“Are you saying my mother was a thief?”
“Whose memorial?” she asked, as if my question had never been voiced.
I paused, just long enough to study her face when I answered. “Louis Patel.”
She tried to cover her surprise, unsuccessfully.
“His daughter goes to school with me.”
“Louis Patel is dead?”
They’re all dead. You’re next. That’s what I wanted to tell her, but something stopped me. Instead, I said, “Sorte Juntos.”
Her expression changed again. She was studying me now. “Well, it seems you already have answers.”
“Not enough. What does it mean?”
“It’s Portuguese.”
“I know that. ‘Lucky together.’ What did it mean to—to her?”
“To us.” Alice turned the photo back around so that it faced me, then pointed to the man in the green shirt. “That’s Francisco Torres. He’s the one who gave us the name, and—”
“He’s dead.”
Alice frowned. “How?”
“A sword,” I said slowly. “In Regent’s Park.”
“And Patel?”
“A sword. In Regent’s Park.”
Fear in her eyes then, and I wondered if I’d messed up. “Both?”
I stared at her, tried to read deeper into her expression, but all I could see was the fear. “No more answers from me. I have to know about my mother. I have to know everything.”
“No. Not everything. No one should ever know everything about her parents.”
“I need to know.”
Alice shook her head, her fingers slowly pushing the photo back toward me. I picked it up and turned it toward her.
I pointed to Mr. Patel. “Dead.” To Francisco Torres. “Dead.” To each face in turn, and after each face I said, “Dead.” My finger hovered over my mother’s face, and then I looked up into Alice’s eyes and exhaled before I said, “Dead.”
She barely breathed. Her expression went blank as what I was telling her sank in.
“They are all dead but you, and you are next. I have to know why. It’s the only way I can protect you.”
“You know who is doing this?”
I tried not to react as I ignored her question. “I have to know everything.”