Maybe.

  But then there was the blood.

  There was blood at the foot of the stairs, but Lord Todd had been found in front of the fireplace in the parlour where there was less of a blood stain. The amount of blood by the stairs suggested a serious injury, but no one, other than Todd himself, had seemed to have been hurt. Martin Snyder had been free of any signs of past injury, other than the bullet in his brain, and either Ashwicke was a better actor than Formby realised, or he wasn’t hiding a serious wound either.

  So the body had been moved.

  Or perhaps it had moved itself?

  What if Lord Todd hadn’t been dead, but dying?

  Formby raised the candle higher still as he pondered, staring at the papered wall in front of him as though it contained the all the answers he needed, which was daft, of course … or possibly not.

  Mr Formby reached out and touched a small divot that had been previously hidden by the extravagant, cherry gold patterned wallpaper. “Well, well, well,” he said, grinning as he ran his finger over what appeared to be a lead ball. “Ain’t that a turn up.”

  Scratching his head for a moment, Mr Formby decided that the God-fearing lady next door needed another visit.

  ***

  “I ain’t goin’!” Frankie replied, his eyes wide with fright and his face as pale and pasty as a milk pudding. “That inspector, ‘e’ll ‘ave me banged up again, ‘e will!”

  “No he won’t, Frankie, honestly,” Keziah pleaded with him. “Not for giving evidence.”

  Frankie folded his arms, pouting and looked mutinous. “I already nearly got me bleedin’ throat slit once,” he said, shaking his head back and forth with a decided air. “I ain’t chancin’ it a second time.”

  Keziah swallowed her impatience and reminded herself he was just a frightened little boy. Sitting down beside him, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “I know you’re scared, Frankie …”

  “No, I ain’t!” the boy objected, masculine pride quite obviously making him push her hand away in disgust as he swelled visibly. “I ain’t afraid.”

  Keziah bit her lip against the curse that bubbled in her throat, and decided on another tack. “Well, then,” she said with a relieved sigh. “That is a good thing, as I’m in the most dreadful fix, and it would only be the most heroic sort of fellow who could help me out of it.”

  Frankie blinked, watching her with mistrust. “What sort of fix?”

  “Well, Frankie,” she began with a smile. “Just the sort of fix you can help me out of.”

  ***

  Mr Formby strode into the station house, water dripping in rivulets down his sodden overcoat and his feet squelching in the most unpleasant fashion, but with the sense of satisfaction that only came to him when he knew he’d caught hold of the thread that could unravel this whole blasted affair. Sadly, his good humour was cut short as he met the panicked eyes of his constable, and a familiar, over-bred voice cut through the rumble of thunder that sounded overhead. For a moment he wondered if he didn’t have a hold of a thread but rather … a tiger’s tail.

  “And about time you showed up, inspector,” the voice said, giving Mr Formby the strong desire to give an immediate and reverent bow which he ruthlessly suppressed.

  “Your grace,” he replied, inclining his head a little with a smile instead as he looked upon the dowager Duchess of Chartley.

  “What do you mean by keeping my grandson in the cells?” she demanded, getting to her feet and glaring at him with fury. “He’s a duke, you fool! Can’t you imagine the scandal if it gets out? Not to mention the fact that you’re a bigger fool than I took you for if you actually think he did it!”

  “Oh, I know he didn’t do it,” Formby replied, finding himself really rather pleased as the dowager opened and closed her mouth. She narrowed her eyes, then, a distinctly dangerous look in her eyes. “Well, then, inspector, would you mind explaining to me why he’s still in a cell?”

  Mr Formby hung up his hat and shrugged out of his coat, doing likewise with it as it dripped a puddle onto the floor. “Well, your grace,” he said, sounding just a little apologetic. “It’s surprising the things that turn up if you let people have their head, and the fellow did insist I arrest him, after all.”

  For a moment, he thought he saw a slight smile flicker across the woman’s lips, but before he could be sure, the door crashed open and three more drowned rats tumbled in.

  “Lady Ashwicke,” Formby said with satisfaction, beaming at her as she and her maid, and blasted Frankie Lightfingers, stood dripping in the entrance. “I’ve been looking for you, young man,” he said as his gaze fell upon him, glowering a little at the lad, who paled and began to back up.

  “Courage, Frankie,” Lady Ashwicke said, grasping him by the arm and towing him further into the room before he could make good his escape. “Now, tell the inspector what you told me.”

  Frankie glowered at her for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Formby held up his hand. Now things were starting to fall into place, he was rather enjoying himself, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to make the most of it. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but he flaming well would before this evening got much older.

  “Why don’t we all step into my office,” he said, moving back and holding open the door for the ladies and a very reluctant Frankie to go through. “Bring us some tea and biscuits, constable,” Formby said to his startled colleague. “May as well make ourselves comfortable.” And with that, he left Constable Greenly looking perplexed, and followed everyone else into his office.

  “Well, then, young Frankie, what have you to say to me?” Mr Formby said, sitting down and grimacing as his wet clothes clung to him and made him shiver. He made a mental note to get Greenly to stoke the fire when he came with the tea.

  “I saw that valet of Lord Todd’s, sir,” Frankie said, looking like he quaking in his shabby boots. “T’was ‘im who popped ‘is lordship off, like. I saw ‘im!”

  Formby frowned as his previous suspicions wavered a little, but he said nothing, just leaned forward on his elbows and gave the boy a hard look. “So you say you saw Martin Snyder shoot Lord Todd in the chest?”

  “I jus’ said so, didn’t I?” the boy replied, folding his arms, his eyes darting around the room as though someone might grab him and lock him up at any moment.

  “Don’t you give me no lip, you young Tyburn blossom,” he warned the lad, raising a finger in warning. “I ain’t got no quarrel with you, but you mind your tongue and tell me the God’s honest, or that’ll change, hear me?”

  Frankie muttered something that might have been agreement, and scuffed what remained of the toe of his boot against Mr Formby’s desk. Repressing the urge to give the young fellow a clip round the ear, the inspector tried again.

  “Now, then, Frankie, you say you saw Martin Snyder kill Lord Todd, but right at this moment, I have Lord Ashwicke, the Duke of Chartley, in the cells, who swears blind he did it.”

  Frankie frowned, staring at him in confusion. Turning, he looked up at Lady Ashwicke. “’Ere, this duke,” he said, tugging at her sleeve. “Ain’t that the swell cove I took to yer ‘ouse t’other night?”

  Lady Ashwicke nodded and smiled at him. “That’s right, Frankie.”

  “Ah,” Frankie nodded, grinning as he remembered. “‘E was a square cove, generous, ‘e was. ‘E a friend of yours, Miss Keziah?”

  Mr Formby cocked an eyebrow at hearing Lady Ashwicke referred to as such, but she didn’t correct the lad. “Actually, Frankie, Lord Ashwicke is my husband, and he’s in a great deal of trouble,” she said, and even Mr Formby could hear the catch in her voice. He frowned as much as Frankie did at hearing it, wondering if perhaps there was more to her marriage to Lord Ashwicke than he’d imagined.

  “You worrit for ‘im, Miss?” Frankie asked, looking at Keziah with big eyes.

  Mr Formby watched as Lady Ashwicke crouched down, then nodded at the boy and took his hand. “I’m very worried, Frankie, so if you know who really killed my father, you must tell the inspector, so that the duke can come home to me.”

  “Well, it weren’t no bleedin’ duke what killed her old man,” Frankie said, looking at the inspector in disgust.

  “I might remind you that he gave himself up,” Mr Formby replied with dignity, and everyone fell silent as Greenly bustled through the door with an overburdened tea tray, looking rather affronted at playing maid for the likes of Frankie Lightfingers and Lady Ashwicke’s abigail.

  By the time the tea had been served and Frankie’s attention could be arrested from the ginger biscuits and back to the case in hand, it was a good ten minutes later.

  “Now lad,” Mr Formby said, gathering his patience in his hands. “Why do think it couldn’t have been Lord Ashwicke what killed Lord Todd?”

  The boy shrugged, stuffing the last of his fifth biscuit into his mouth. “Well, stands to reason, don’t it?” he said, showering the inspector’s desk with crumbs before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

  “And why is that, Frankie?” Mr Formby asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and wondering how much longer before they got to the point.

  “Well,” Frankie said, scratching at his head with enthusiasm and in a manner that made Mr Formby frown and feel the need to do likewise. “‘Cause the blighter was already dead.”

  Chapter 26

  A Canterbury story - a long, roundabout tale

  - The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose

  Mr Formby sat back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at the young rascal in front of him and wondering how far he could be trusted to tell the truth. There was always the chance that Lady Ashwicke was paying the fellow to lie through his teeth. The inspector was pretty certain that whoever took his place when he retired would spend a deal of time chasing Frankie and being led a merry dance for his troubles, too. However, he was inclined to think the lad was telling the truth. Still, there was someone else who ought to be present for this little recitation.

  Mr Formby got up from his seat and stuck his head round the door and motioned constable Greenly over.

  “Fetch his lordship up here, quick-smart, lad.”

  Greenly nodded and Mr Formby closed the door again, going to stand in front of the fire for a moment in the hope of drying his sodden clothes.

  “Alright then, Frankie,” he said, before leaning over and picking up the last biscuit from the plate, offering it to him. “This is what I want you to do. Start at the beginning, and tell me everything that you remember. How came you to be in the Todd household to begin with?”

  Frankie paused in the act of reaching for the biscuit, guilt written all over his face in large, frightened letters.

  Mr Formby sighed. “I ain’t interested in what you may or may not ‘ave filched, so stop looking like you’re on the road to the scragging post. You’ll walk out of here when you’re done, you’ve my word on it.”

  Frankie considered this, pursing his lips before taking the biscuit.

  “I was walking across Abbey Green,” he said, stashing the biscuit in a pocket as he spoke. “When I noticed the front door was wide open.” He shrugged and cast Keziah an apologetic look. “Well, I ‘adn’t eaten for a day or two, an’ I reckoned maybe there was somethin’ small I could lift,” he mumbled.

  Lady Ashwicke laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. “It’s alright, Frankie, we all do things we ought not if we’re desperate enough.”

  Frankie looked guiltier still, which Mr Formby could well understand in the light of such understanding. The boy jolted as a knock sounded at the door and Greenly appeared, escorting Lord Ashwicke into the room.

  “Ash!” her ladyship cried and ran to him. The inspector watched, curious to note how obviously relieved she was to see him, the way she clung to him, sobbing. It had been obvious to him from the first that the young duke loved her enough to do something foolish, but he hadn’t before noticed the same depth of emotion from his wife. In fact, he’d been quite prepared to believe she was simply using him. But seeing her now … perhaps he had misjudged her after all.

  “There, there, love,” the duke said, his voice soft as he smiled down at her. “I’m alright.”

  “Oh, Ash, why did you do it? You must know I’m not worth it,” she sobbed, clinging to his lapels.

  “I know nothing of the sort,” he retorted, his eyes growing dark. “You’re worth everything I have, and far more besides. I’d be lost without you, you must see that?”

  Lady Ashwicke just sobbed harder and her husband began to look a little distressed himself. “Oh, come now, Keziah, love, you’re ruining this jacket, you know, and it’s one of Weston’s best,” he remonstrated, provoking a muffled squawk somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she clung harder. “And now you’re ruining my cravat, too,” he added with a genuine touch of reproach this time.

  “Oh, Ash, you are absurd,” she said, laughing and looking at her husband like he’d hung the moon.

  Well, well, thought the inspector.

  Lord Ashwicke tugged his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his wife. “Now dry your eyes, love, I think the inspector wants to talk to me.”

  “No actually, my lord,” Mr Formby replied, gesturing for him to sit. “Just to listen for the moment.” He turned back to Frankie and gestured for him to continue.

  The lad cleared his throat, looking around the assembled company with a little trepidation. “Well, so I went inside the ‘ouse, all quiet like, and that’s when I saw ‘im, that oily valet, draggin’ Lord Todd into one of the rooms from the hallway. Well, ‘e ‘ad a bleedin’ great ‘ole, right ‘ere,” he said, pointing at his chest and grimacing. “So I just turns and legs it, right? But that fella, ‘e sees me afore I go. So I’m running across Abbey Green when I sees this right flash cove,” he said, pausing to point at Lord Ashwicke. “And I run into ‘im, accidentally on purpose like, an’ lift ‘is watch as I go.”

  “I remember you!” Ash said, sounding indignant. “You’re the link boy. Why, you little devil, and after I gave you a crown tip, too!”

  “Sorry, mister,” Frankie replied, looking miserable.

  “Oh, never mind that,” Lady Ashwicke said, waving away Ash’s protest, her eyes wide now. “But, Frankie, you never told me you only saw Ash after Lord Todd had been killed.” She clutched at the boy’s arms, looking rather frantic. “You mean to say that my father really was dead before Ash even got there?”

  “I jus’ said so, didn’t I?” Frankie replied, looking perplexed by her outburst.

  “Yes, but I didn’t realise it was actually true,” she burst out, before flushing and staring at Mr Formby with chagrin. The inspector just waved a hand at her, feeling he was really past caring what she’d been plotting as long as he heard the truth now.

  “But that’s not possible!” Ash retorted, looking really indignant now. “The devil fired a shot at me and I shot him in return. I heard him fall, dammit!”

  “Ash!” Keziah exclaimed in horror, grasping his arm as the colour drained from his face. “Don’t you dare say another word,” she warned him and his grandmother tutted with impatience.

  “Do try and avoid getting yourself hanged, Felix.”

  Ash scowled at the dowager, but said nothing more and Mr Formby decided he had some questions that needed answering right away.

  “You’re quite sure Lord Todd was dead, Frankie?” he asked, keeping his tone mild so as not to unsettle the boy any further.

  “’Ow many bleedin’ times ‘ave I gotta say it? I’m sure!” the boy retorted, folding his arms and scowling. “’E ‘ad these staring eyes, ‘orrible it was, too, but ‘e was dead, alright.”

  Mr Formby nodded and turned his attention to Lord Ashwicke. “Now, my lord, you say you went to Lord Todd’s house, that he shot at you, and you returned fire.”

  Lady Ashwicke sent her husband a pleading look, but he just sighed and took her hand. “Well, I can’t very well take it back now, can I, love?” he said, sounding apologetic but turning his attention to the inspector. “After what he’d done to my wife, I was in a blind rage, inspector, I don’t mind telling you. Though I think you might wish to know that the reason Lady Ashwicke came to know me was that she had discovered her father intended to marry my mother and to murder me in order to get control of our fortune.” He paused to give his wife an adoring look before he carried on. “Keziah here is a very brave woman, Mr Formby, braver than me by far, in truth. If you knew what she had suffered at the hands of that … that …”

  Mr Formby held up a hand, shaking his head. “You don’t need to explain that, at least, my lord. I’d been trying to pin something on that slippery devil for two decades or more. He was a wrong’un and I pity anyone who had to deal with him.”

  Lord Ashwicke nodded, patting his wife’s hand, as she was holding onto his sleeve as though she feared he’d disappear. “That’s why he beat her so badly, inspector. He discovered that she’d been with me and must have guessed that she’d warned me of his plans. I couldn’t let him get away with it, you must see?”

  Mr Formby felt he did see, only too clearly, and in Lord Ashwicke’s position, he’d likely have done the same thing. But sadly, his job was only to uphold the law, not to decide who was guilty or innocent, so, for the moment, he held his tongue.

  “So you’re telling me that Lord Todd fired at you?”

  “Well, someone did!” Ash said, sounding a touch defensive. “Look, when I got there, the house was in darkness, the door wide open. So I went inside, quietly, which was damned hard as I could hardly see my own hand, and I made my way to the parlour. Well, I’d barely set foot in the room when there was a flash of light and a bullet hit the door jamb beside my head. After that … well, to be frank, I simply reacted and fired in return. I heard the crash of a body falling and … I ran.” Lord Ashwicke shrugged, looking rather awkward. “Not very heroic, I’m afraid,” he muttered.

  “Yes, you are,” his wife whispered, smiling at him. “You did it for me, and I think you’re terribly heroic.”

 

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