XIX.

Taking his coat, Stuart left Regina's place. He walked until he found his way to the bar where he met Regina. Black Cat was empty at this time of the day. It suited Stuart. He found enough coins in his pockets for a glass of whiskey, which was just what he needed. Since Regina expanded their business, Stuart could afford such treats. Barman put the glass in front of him and, since a handful of the other guests were common drunks, he leaned on the bar and whispered: "Ay, Stuart, all good?"

"What?" Stuart was muddleheaded. He thought about his dream. He was worried about Carol and his siblings in Edinburgh. From what he gathered until now, the person sending those weird photos could truly be a serial killer. He considered sending them a telegram, just to check if they're safe. "Aye, all good. Why?"

Barman shrugged his shoulders. "Strange for you to drink at this hour. You seem worried, is all. You heard the sad news?" Stuart shook his head. "You know that farmer, Rudolph, comes often to sell his stuff on the market? His wife died last night." Stuart had to refrain from expressing shock. "Poor thing, sick for days. They lost the youngest lass just a few months ago. And all of Rudolph's other children lasses, too. Hard situation for them, ain't it?"

"Aye", Stuart muttered, "damn right bloody hard."

He was returning home walking like a drunk. He felt like a mess. Gertrude, though sick, still very alive just the day before, dead prostitute's smile in the photo, dead girl standing in the bathtub, his brother's death... "But Oliver died three months ago", he whispered to himself, ignoring the woman shouting offends at him after he slightly pushed her. "Why would it bother me now? People die... What's good is that he's dead and at peace, not like those people with opened eyes and whatnot... Photos..."

"There you are!" Regina was in front of him as soon as he stepped into the studio. "Where've you been? Did you even sleep last night? I found no bed unmade..."

"I stayed beside the fireplace", he quickly explained. He walked pass her and collapsed on the sofa.

"Are you sick?", Regina asked in a worried tone.

"No, just... You haven't heard? Gertrude... she passed away." More than shocked, he was surprised. What had caused physically healthy woman to die so suddenly? After all his deliberation over death during the last two centuries, cases like these still perplexed him.

Regina's face turned white. Without explanation, she handed him a photo turned on the blank side. He looked at the other side of it. It was a photo of the room in which Gertrude slept, but not a living soul was in it. "Oh, no", Stuart whispered. It was the same format the other unknown author's photos which appeared out of nowhere. "He or she must've been to your house after I left", Stuart said after Regina told him she'd found it on the doorstep. "And on Rudolph's property some hours earlier... After yesterday, him and his daughters must've been exhausted, they wouldn't notice an intruder. But why would someone kill..." He couldn't even say it out loud.

"The whole case remains a mystery", Regina said dramatically. Beneath all concern, she was intrigued and excited. Stuart was angry and couldn't understand her cold attitude. People were dying, his family was somehow marked, and she enjoyed it! "But none of the murders whose places of commission have been photographed are connected. I'm still not convinced a serial killer is our only possible conclusion..."

"That's it", Stuart got up, his heart beating fast, "you might find this fun, but not me. I'm taking photos to the police." He hurried downstairs and picked up every peculiar photo on his display. He decisively paced to the door, but Regina's surprisingly strong hand grasped his elbow.

"What do you expect the policemen will say? They'll say you're insane!" Stuart pulled forward, but she wouldn't let him go. "My father used to be an inspector. You don't think he would've figured this out if there was a logical explanation? He had all the experience needed. Stuart, there's nothing logical in this! Accept that we're dealing with something alien, something police can't help us with..."

"We didn't even try!" Regina faltered as he got away from her grasp. He closed the door behind himself, but she was coming for him. Wrought up and alarmed by her intransigence, he locked the door. Regina knocked and yelled, but he walked away. Now she can't stop him. "I'll take the damn photos to Maxwell and that's it!"

He passed the Black Cat, but the voices of the crowd which formed in the meantime followed him down the street. Everybody spoke silently, but all sentences carried the same message. "Rudolph's wife died... Doctor said 't was natural, but I hear' it might've been poison, too... After all, ol' farmer Rud went a bit mad after his youngest child died... Gertrude's mental illness must've caused him great pain... Aye, all daughters, little one's somehow strange, the oldest one quite religious..."

He quickened his pace, but among gossips he wanted to avoid, he heard his own name. He didn't stop at first, but even when other voices went silent, he could hear somebody's steps following him and a man's voice calling out his name. He had an urge to run, he felt endangered as an irrational idea occurred to him; might it be a ghost haunting him?

"Stuart, dear Lord, slow down, would ya?" He stopped. A breathless man approached him. He'd been running after him for some time. Stuart was surprised to find that he was panting, too. "Where you running to? Haven't ya heard me calling ya?"

"Sorry, Jim", he said. It was the banker whose mother he photographed when she passed away four years ago. "I was lost in my thoughts a bit."

"Aye, right. Listen, I have a tricky thing to ask of you. Well, not really tricky considering what you do, but nevertheless..."

Stuart instantly knew what it was about. "Who died?"

"My cousin. He drowned. I mean, that's what we say..."

A suicide. Stuart's heart skipped a beat. The envelope with photos he held burned him like hot coal, but the fascination with death (suicide!) was too great to miss this opportunity.

"We never got to take a photo together and his funeral's tomorrow. Would you come to my place? I'll prepare everything. I heard you have some new cameras, but I'd like you to bring your old one, the classics are the best... I'll pay double your usual charge..."

"Don't worry, old boy, I'll be there."

Jim walked away leaving Stuart motionless, with aggravating photos in his hand. "Suicide", he muttered, "haven't had one for years." He couldn't stop himself from wondering would Jim's brother turn out changed in the photo. Unnoticed hand or neck movement, rolling eyes, curling lips, anything to satisfy Stuart's curiosity. "Besides, Regina might be right", he made excuses as he changed direction. "Policemen know nothing about photography. And the photos seem normal if you don't know the context. They wouldn't believe me with the lack of proof I have. I should get more evidence and then take it to the police."

Regina was sitting on the sofa with her legs and arms crossed. She directed a furious look at him, but softened when upon noticing the envelope. "So you came to your senses and gave up?"

Stuart approached daguerreotype camera. "We have a home visit to do. A suicide case. Hurry up."

The client's black-clad wife let them in. She showed them into the living room. Coming from behind, they saw light hair of a man sitting on the couch. They realized it was the deceased cousin only after Regina's salute got no reply. The mistress of the house was so quiet they barely heard when she asked if they'd like some tea. When she left the room, Stuart set out to placing camera in front of the dead man. The banker's cousin's pose was traditional for full-body portraits, with his hands in the lap and head held high thanks to the retainer on the back of his neck. Occasionally dressed as he was, he could pass for a healthy human being without doubt.

"Makes you wonder", Regina said, looking at the subject of Stuart's camera, "why'd someone take his own life? Many people suffer terribly, but remain alive, while someone seemingly leading a decent life makes such a horrible decision."

"You can never know what the quality of someone else's life truly is", Stuart answered while adjusting the lens, "it might seem decent to you, but it's what's in someone's head that really matters."

"You speak as if from a personal experience."

The banker walked in, limping a little after a few sips of something to calm him down. "There you are!" He pretended to be jolly. First time seeing Regina, he shook her hand, claiming he "had heard all about her". His wife joined them carrying a teapot on a plate. Banker directed her to stand aside while he settled on the couch next to his cousin. Stuart noticed how he avoided to look at his deceased relative. In excessively cheerful tone, he announced how he wants the photo to turn out; the two of them sitting next to each other, no furniture in their surroundings. "Just make sure he looks alive, eh?" He patted Stuart on the back and prepared to sit down, but then his eyes accidentally met his cousin's. He confusedly blinked and stopped for a few seconds. Silent, but effective, his wife held his elbow when it seemed he might fall and helped him sit down. The banker put his mask back in an instant. "C'mon, Stuart, old chap!"

The hourglass was turned.

As promised, the banker paid two times more than Stuart usually charged. He offered him and Regina to stay for lunch, but they refused. They had to develop the daguerreotype. Stuart discreetly looked at Regina, wondering how'd she react if he recommended they develop them in her father's dark room. Does she know about his private collection?

Upon their return to the studio, he didn't allow her to go with him to the dark room. "Leave daguerreotypes to me", he said. Regina was offended. Stuart didn't care. The growing closeness which kept them together every day was losing its meaning for Stuart. He wanted her near only because now that he had Gertrude's death haunting his consciousness alongside others, staying completely alone was a worse option.

When the process was done, he left the daguerreotype to continue developing on its own. Upstairs, Regina kept herself busy by preparing lunch. When they were done eating, Regina removed the plates and brought two cups of coffee. Stuart rarely drank coffee. It was just one of numerous things Regina brought with herself. Instead of being thankful, Stuart felt his pride was hurt. Brown drink in his cup reminded him just how much better standing than him Regina was. "Would you please leave?"

Regina slammed her cup against the table. "So now you want me to leave? And just a while ago you begged me to stay by your side. What, I'm a housekeeper now, departing when you get tired of me?" She angrily picked up her things and pushed her chair away. "Remember we're in this together." Lowering her head, she added: "I'm worried, too, you know, and quite aware I might be the reason why your family is endangered. No matter what we're dealing with, don't act like you're the only one bothered by our ignorance!"

He heard the door slamming in the studio above him. Regina was gone. Stuart regretted driving her away. Resentment he felt for her slowly dispersed. What did he have to blame her for? It was as she said; she had stayed by his side, comforted him. His behaviour was more than wrong. And why did the discovery he made in her house have to cast an ugly shadow on Regina? She probably doesn't know about her father's creepy photos. Besides, there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for them. Everybody Stuart heard speak about Regina's father described him as hard-working, kind man. "My judgment is imbalanced since Oliver died", he made a conclusion, "I see hidden intentions and dark shadows wherever I look." He sighed out, realising he'll have to crawl begging for Regina's forgiveness once more.

He wasn't aware of the cupboard door right above him Regina left open. The top of his head hit the sharp edge of it. He succumbed to dizziness and fell to the floor...

Stuart never got to ask Carol why were two people watching them from afar because Oliver's arrival interrupted him. Carol ran away before her betrothed came close enough to see her distress. "She'll come to her senses", Oliver said to Stuart. He had already told Stuart everything about his decision to join the army. They fought about it, or at least Oliver tried to provoke a fight by yelling, but Stuart remained uninterested. He silently suffered his brother's endeavours to force him to stay home. Eventually, Oliver accepted Stuart was lost case.

"What senses?", Stuart asked, though he rarely answered Oliver recently. "She blames me for taking you away. You shouldn't go to Africa. You must think about Carol and your future."

"We already talked about this." Stuart couldn't remember when. Perhaps Oliver meant one of his monologues in which he eloquently explained his reasons and duty. "I'm not letting you head off to war on your own."

Stuart turned his back on him. He returned the stare to the two personas in the distance. They were closer now. He was sure the woman was Gertrude. The young man recently, too...

"Banker's cousin...", Stuart whispered. "The young man who took his own life."

"Taking a part in war is equal to committing a suicide", Oliver said. Stuart looked at his brother, but instead of a young husband-to-be, an old man was standing next to him. His brows, hair and beard were completely white, his face was pudgy.

"Who are you?"

"Stuart!" Regina was waving with her hand in front of him. Suddenly woken up, Stuart wined, but couldn't get up. He was still dizzy. "You were bleeding", Regina was kneeling next to him. "Must've hit your head hard. Thank God I came back. Didn't feel good about how we separated."

"I'm sorry, Regina", Stuart mumbled. It came to him he had forgotten the daguerreotype developing in the dark room. He left the unperfect apology hanging in the air and urged Regina to check the photo.

The subject of Stuart's camera was unchanged, sitting still in the photo next to his cousin just like in reality. There was a thunder in Stuart's mind; why didn't he move?

"You hurt yourself badly", Regina repeated, pretending not to take notice of the photo, but Stuart didn't miss her sly peeking.