“Miss Greene, mail these, would you?” Viktor held the envelopes over his shoulder, already writing another correspondence. The letters left his hand and he did not hear her leave.

“Tea for this afternoon?” Ives asked.

“No. I will spend the rest of the day in the laboratory. Don’t wait up.”

“There is an invitation to a dinner on Thursday. Shall I send a card?”

Viktor rubbed the space between his eyebrows, muttering to himself, “…today’s Sunday…Thursday. All right. You’ll get the night off.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor’s pen scratched at the stationary. He liked his papers white and clean, with just enough tooth to grab the pen nib. He liked the scratching sound of writing. It was one of the reasons he infused himself in the sciences. Diaries and journals, recordings of experiments required writing.

“One more thing, Doctor,” Ives said.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Mrs. Vanessa Wroll also calls on you. She wishes to have brunch on Saturday.”

Viktor’s pen stilled. The room was very quiet without it. “Yes. Brunch on Saturday,” he responded.

Signing the letter and leaving the envelope unsealed, he left for the day, throwing himself into his work. Dr. Viktor Teagan worked tirelessly at both a prestigious university and one of the more acclaimed hospitals. Every now and then the university insisted he teach a class, which he did purely to continue his use of their laboratories and equipment.

When he returned home, his nails were black with ink and his household was asleep. Late hours were not unusual for him, and thus the kitchen was as familiar to him as it was to his staff. Viktor descended into it now, finding the drawer with matches and lit the lamp kept on the central counter. The light bloomed against the glass chimney and Viktor turned to find bread and cheese, but instead found a body.

Ives was lying on the floor, dead. Viktor spent hours, daily, with cadavers, he would know. This death, however, shocked him. His hand found the bells on the wall, and he rang every one of them.

“Doctor?”

“Miss Greene.” He recognized her voice. She was the youngest of his household. Of course she would wake sooner, if she had been asleep at all. “Please call the Yard. I will require a new butler.”

*******

After a while, Viktor found a seat beneath him and there were policemen and detectives in his house. There would be more throughout the block, waking up every home in the city square. His handful of servants was in various stages of dress, mostly wearing shawls or coats over their nightclothes while tending to this business.

Their mutterings caught his attention. “I can do that,” he stood. Eyes looked at him warily.

“We have other doctors and coroners available,” one of the detectives consoled. “This needn’t be your patient.”

“He was my butler and I am the best medical practitioner you will find. I will perform the autopsy myself.”

Viktor gathered his coat, hat, and suitcase, right where he had left them when he’d come home. “Doctor,” someone was saying behind him. “Doctor, with all due respect, you cannot perform the examination. In the case that this was a homicide... ”

“I would be a suspect,” Viktor finished. He scrubbed a hand over his face. How could he be so naïve? He nodded and said the first name that occurred to him. “Miss Greene. Can you handle the funeral arrangements?”

“Yes,” she said.