The Debutante's Code, page 21
Ed’s brows rose. “Did he say why Selby was in such a hurry?”
“I gather the buying trip cost the gallery more than they had intended. Whether Rickets overspent or things cost more than they anticipated is anyone’s guess, but selling this item quickly was meant to recoup some of that expenditure. The auction house manager had a handwritten receipt from Mr. Selby, putting a reserve of one hundred pounds on a carved jade dragon from China.”
“Did it realize that price?” Ed’s eyes widened. “Who buys such things for so much money?”
“You might want to sit down.” Daniel stopped stacking pages on the table and waited while Owen came in and laid blank paper, an inkwell, and two new quills down.
“Anything else, sir?” he asked Ed.
“Tea for both of us, and a couple of meat pies from the vendor on the corner.” He set a shilling on the table. “And get one for yourself.”
When the door closed behind the office boy, Daniel said, “The dragon sold for five hundred pounds.”
“Five hundred?” Ed dropped into a chair. “Are you quizzing me? No one would pay five hundred pounds for a hunk of green rock.”
“Lady Juliette Thorndike would.”
Ed’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
“And what’s more, she had it in her possession for only a few minutes before it was stolen. At knifepoint. I came on the scene outside the auction house only moments after it happened. Lady Juliette was bleeding and faint, and I got her into her carriage and took her home. Miss Montgomery was with her, and she told me what happened.” He gave a quick report.
“I think we should pay Dirty Dave and his friends a visit, don’t you?” Daniel drew up a chair. “As soon as it gets dark, they’ll come out of hiding and start soaking up gin. No point in looking for them before nightfall. They’re holed up somewhere in the rookery, and it wouldn’t pay to go in there without an army.”
“They’ll probably turn up at The Hog’s Head, if I know Dirty Dave. He likes one of the barmaids there.” Ed had gathered himself, and his eyes were intense. “Dave and his bunch don’t have two original thoughts to rub together. Whoever sent them is the man we really want. I know I said to look for other motives before jumping to conclusions, but I’ve changed my mind. It stands to reason that whoever is stealing the artwork is also the one who killed Selby.”
Daniel fished through the papers until he found the one he wanted. “No family has been found to claim Selby’s body, so the coroner released it to Mr. Rathbone’s butler. He will arrange the burial. The magistrate’s court is likely to turn over Selby’s estate to Rathbone, who will see that all outstanding bills are paid.”
“What do you want to do with all this paper?”
“Make some sense of it. Get it organized and summarized. I want to make a timeline of events, of Selby’s movements the last week of his life, and I want to write a list of those who could still be our killer.”
“Why did you want pushpins?”
“I have to see it, to fix it in my mind, so I’m going to tack the pages to the wall as we go.”
He uncapped the ink bottle, dipped the quill, and wrote “Incident Room” in bold strokes. “This goes on the door, and no one but you, me, or Sir Michael enters from now on.” He took a pushpin from the bowl, opened the door, and drove the pin through the paper into the door on the outside.
“Sir Michael will have a fit or two about the holes in the walls and doors.”
“Not if we solve this case quickly. I’ll offer to have the plaster repaired once we’re done.” Daniel threw off unnecessary concerns and concentrated on putting what he knew about the case into chronological order.
After a couple of hours, he had a better handle on what they knew and on what they suspected, but nothing pointed a big black arrow at any single suspect. Frustrating.
When it was full dark, they wrapped up against the cold and set out for St. Giles. Daniel made sure he had both his truncheon and his pistol tucked into his belt. “Let’s start at The Hog’s Head, like you suggested. If Dirty Dave isn’t there yet, the barman might know where we can find him. Plenty of information passes through that pub every night. At least half of my informants call that their local.”
“Mine too. The Hog’s Head is a clearinghouse of criminal connections.” Ed turned his collar up, clutching his stick in his beefy hand. The brass top caught the lamplight. “The fog’s rolling in. Going to be a bad night.”
The Hog’s Head was crowded, a fire roared on the hearth, and ale flowed down throats by the frothy lakeful. Daniel eyed those closest to the door, hunched around tables or sitting along the walls on long benches. Several he knew from encounters petty and criminal, and one or two he suspected he’d meet for similar reasons in the near future.
Conversations ceased, the click of the dominoes stopped, and a few shoulders hunched up around ears, as if the men didn’t want to be seen.
Ed wove toward the barman, not bothering to hide his truncheon, the easiest way to identify a Bow Street detective. Daniel stayed near the door, watching the twenty or so patrons, none of whom would meet his eyes.
A barmaid with blonde hair escaping her mobcap stood in the opening at the far side of the room, a tray against her hip and a pitcher in her hand. Was this the woman Dirty Dave was sweet on?
“Haven’t seen him. Not in at least a fortnight.” The barman shook his head, sloshing a wet rag on the counter. “And I don’t like your kind coming in here and upsetting my customers.”
“What about Barney? Have you seen him?”
“Him neither.”
“Do you know where they’re likely to be?”
“I ain’t their social secretary. I don’t watch for ’em to come, and I don’t miss ’em when they’re gone. But even if I did, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you lot.”
A subdued huzzah went up from one of the back tables, and Daniel slipped his hand under his coat to the pistol at his waistband.
“Why don’t you shove off? You ain’t getting served here, and you ain’t getting answers.” Turning his back on Ed, the barman reached up for a tankard.
Ed leaned forward, grabbed the man’s shoulder, and spun him back, fisting his hand in the man’s shirtfront and hauling him half over the bar.
Several of the patrons rose, but Daniel drew his pistol and shook his head, motioning with the barrel for them to sit back down. One fellow caught his eye, sitting in the far corner in the shadows. A disreputable hooded cloak hid his expression, but he had a stillness about him that put Daniel’s senses on alert. He sensed this was the most dangerous man in the room, and he positioned himself to keep him in sight.
“I believe we got off on the wrong foot, mister.” Ed’s voice was deceptively calm. “You seem to think I’m asking idle questions and that I might not mind if you don’t cooperate. Let me disabuse you of such a notion. If you think the two of us are troublesome, wait until we bring every Bow Street officer, clerk, magistrate, and delivery boy into this establishment and make The Hog’s Head our new base of operations. We’ll gum up your works until you won’t have a customer left in the rookery.” He kept his fist locked in the man’s collar, speaking to him from only inches away.
Daniel hid a smile. Criminals took in Ed’s silver hair and the wrinkles creasing his face, and they underestimated both his strength and his will. Any moment his black truncheon, with the brass tip bearing more than one ominous dent, would tap the barman on the nose, and he would rethink his choices.
“You want to cooperate now, don’t you?”
Red suffused the barman’s face, and he scowled, a fleck of spittle appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, for the love of all that’s British.” The barmaid stalked over, smacked the tray and pitcher on the counter loud enough to make everyone jump, and jammed her hands on her rounded hips. “Enough. Dirty Dave hasn’t been in tonight, and he isn’t likely to neither. He’s run up a tab he can’t pay, and if he shows his face, the coin will be taken out of his hide. I told him not to come back until he can deliver some blunt We’re not a charity here.” She eyed a few customers who looked away.
The door beside Daniel opened, and a man stepped through, his collar up, hat pulled low. He stomped his feet, looking at the floor, before raising his head. Daniel could only see part of him, as the door stood between them, but Ed took one look at the man and dropped the barman.
“Hello, Barney. Been looking for you.” He started toward the newcomer, and Daniel wrenched the door back.
Barney spun and shot out into the darkness with Ed on his heels. Daniel followed, his blood leaping, eager for the chase, when he collided with a figure that loomed out of the mist.
Assuming it was one of Barney’s compatriots, he staggered a few steps to regain his footing and raised the pistol he still held.
Whoever he had hit lurched into the street, splashing into an icy-cold puddle in the gutter. A mobcap went flying, and a mass of dark hair …
A woman!
Daniel jammed the pistol into his waistband and went to help her. A quick glance told him Ed and Barney had disappeared into the fog.
“I’m so very sorry, ma’am. Please, forgive me. Let me help you.” Of all the clumsy things to do, barging into a woman and knocking her down like a ninepin.
Grasping her elbow, he tugged her upright. With a groan, she shoved the hair out of her eyes, and his heart stopped.
Lady Juliette Thorndike … dressed like a fishwife, roaming the streets of St. Giles after dark?
“What are you doing here? Of all the nonsensical behavior! Are you hurt?” He marched into the street and snatched her cap from the cobbles. “Is this some sort of game you’re playing? Amusing yourself by venturing into the rookeries? Are you alone, or are your friends somewhere nearby sniggering?”
He thrust the cap into her hands, grabbed her by the elbow, and marched her toward the nearest streetlamp half a block away. Shock and anger mingled. What was she thinking? How could she be so careless? Or simpleminded? What was she playing at?
She clutched the cap to her chest, her shawl trailing over one shoulder, and her breath came in gasps. Twice she looked behind her, and her eyes were wide and unfocused.
He had pity on her and slowed his steps.
And he remembered that she was a lady, the daughter of an earl.
They reached the corner and stood in the muted circle of light under the post. “Are you injured?”
She shook her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes and putting the cap on once again. A smear of dirt marred her cheek.
“Would you care to explain yourself?” He unbuttoned his coat and draped it around her shoulders. He withdrew his truncheon, wrapping the loop around his wrist and his fingers around the leather grip.
“I wanted my dragon back.” She lifted her chin, her eyes sparking. “I heard you say the men who stole it frequented this area, and I wanted to find them.”
She really was simpleminded. A pity, for she had seemed intelligent upon first meeting. Perhaps he should apply to have her admitted to Bedlam.
“What did you intend to do? Approach them and politely ask for your property back?”
“Of course not. I’m not simple-wit. I had a plan.” His coat dwarfed her, nearly dragging the ground.
“Which was?”
She clamped her mouth shut, glared at him, and was saved from answering by the arrival of Ed, dragging Barney by the scruff of his neck.
“This young man has had a change of heart. He believes he would rather share information with us than a cell in Newgate Prison. Isn’t he a clever lad?” Ed shoved Barney toward Daniel, dug in his pocket, produced a set of darbies, and clapped them on his quarry’s wrists around the light pole.
“Now we can talk at our leisure. I’ve no mind to go haring about the rookery anymore tonight.” Ed pushed his hat back. “And who is this waif?” He pointed his truncheon at Lady Juliette.
“You’ve met her before. May I present Lady Juliette Thorndike, daughter of the Earl of Thorndike, and debutante.” Daniel loaded his voice with sarcasm. “Found wandering the streets of St. Giles like a vagabond.”
“I wasn’t wandering. I was running. Because I was being chased by an Irish harridan who wanted to dent my head with a cudgel.” Her back straightened. “I owe you no explanation. I merely wanted to get my property back. It was a gift for my father, and I spent a great deal of money on it.”
“I see.” Ed sent Daniel a “calm yourself” look. “Perhaps young Barney here can help with that.” He poked Barney in the middle of the back with his stick. “Can you not, Barney? You remember the lady, don’t you? You met this afternoon.”
Jaw set mutinously, Barney mumbled something.
“What was that? We can’t hear you.” Ed poked a bit harder.
“We had orders. Take what we stole to a receiver’s shop, get a bit of brass for our trouble, and don’t tell no one.” He rattled the darbies against the light pole, but they were firmly locked.
“Which receiver’s shop would that be?”
“Hawthorne’s on Wells Street.”
Ed questioned Daniel with a look.
“I know the place. Hawthorne lives above the shop.”
“Then let’s toddle round, shall we?”
Daniel fisted his hands. “I have to see Lady Juliette safely home. And we have a prisoner.”
“I’m not going home. I am going to this Mr. Hawthorne’s shop. If that’s where my dragon is, then I’m going to go fetch it,” Lady Juliette declared.
The ridiculousness of this situation wasn’t lost on Daniel, but it didn’t make him feel like laughing. “If you’re coming, you’re in for a walk. Wells Street is a fair stretch of the legs.”
Ed unlocked Barney from the lamppost but snicked the open darby to his own wrist. “Lest you get any funny ideas.”
Daniel took Lady Juliette’s arm, not because she might escape but because it seemed unchivalrous not to. What could she have been thinking? And where did she get such awful clothes? What had she planned on doing if she found the men who stole her property? Thinking of all the harm that could have come to her, he found himself growing angry again.
“You’re hurting me.”
He relaxed his grip. “Beg pardon, milady,” he said through stiff lips.
By the time they reached the receiver’s shop, Daniel’s teeth were nearly chattering. Without his coat, he was like a shorn lamb in a spring gale.
The windows were dark on the ground floor, but one story up, firelight flickered around the edges of a drape. Ed hit the door with the end of his stick. “Open up. Bow Street officers. We have a warrant.”
Barney’s head whipped round. “You don’t have no warrant. You didn’t even know about this place until I told you.”
“Don’t worry. They almost never ask to see it.” Ed shrugged, whacking the door again.
Footsteps and the clinking of a chain sounded on the far side of the door, along with a heavy thump. Hinges creaked, and the door opened a few inches. “Whatcha want? We’re closed. Come back in the morning.” A beaky nose appeared briefly and then jerked back as he went to slam the door.
Ed put his booted foot into the opening and shoved. “Can’t come back. We’re on urgent police business.”
“Open up, Hawthorne. It’s Detective Swann.”
Hawthorne’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped back. “Come in then. Quick. Won’t do for the neighbors to see runners on the doorstep. Gives the place a bad tone.”
He held a candle aloft and wore a dressing gown and slippers. “Got me out of bed, you did, with your bellowing and stomping about.” Shuffling toward the back of the shop, he took up his familiar place behind the counter.
The room was jammed with merchandise. Display cases of watches and cheap jewelry, silk shawls, shoes, snuff boxes, small furnishings. Anything desperate people could raise a few shillings on.
But Daniel wasn’t interested in any of those offerings. Hawthorne kept the valuable objects, the ones most likely to have been gotten illegally, behind the counter out of sight.
Ed drew Barney forward. “This lad says he brought you an item earlier today and that you paid him and his mates for it.”
Hawthorne was already shaking his head. “Never seen him before.”
Daniel sighed. “Seem the night for it, doesn’t it, Ed?” He leaned on the counter. “Let’s not play games. I’m tired, and I’m cold. If I have to lay about this place to search it, lots of things are going to get broken. And at the end of the night, you’ll be in the gaol, and I’ll have what I came for.” He waved his hand to take in the curtain-draped shelves behind Hawthorne. “I wonder how much of your inventory will match the lists of stolen goods that come into Bow Street frequently? There are terrible penalties to be exacted for those who traffic in purloined property.”
Hawthorne tightened the belt on his robe and smoothed the hair over his ears. “Now, now, there’s no need for threats. I run a clean business here.” He seemed to notice Lady Juliette for the first time. “Who’s the dolly-mop?” He ran his tongue over his crooked teeth and leered.
Daniel smacked the countertop with his truncheon to regain his attention. “She’s not your concern, but keep a civil tongue in your head, or you’ll find your eyes rattling about in your skull. I want what you bought from this man today. I want a green stone carving. Where is it?”
For a long moment, Daniel stared at the pawnbroker. The candlelight cast odd shadows on his face. Finally, Hawthorne shrugged. “I got a note yesterday describing the item. Said someone would deliver it to the shop and I was to pay them five shillings for their trouble. I should keep the item out of sight until it was called for by a Mr. Smith. That’s all I know.”
He bent out of sight behind the counter, and Daniel put his hand on his pistol grip in his waistband. One never knew what someone might do when they felt cornered, and Hawthorne was certainly cornered.
“Here. Take it and be gone.” The green dragon hit the counter with a thunk. The ivory teeth shone dully, and the eyes stared blankly at the far wall.
