Children of the Shadows, page 6
“I thought he wanted to give your job to his nephew,” Ed remarked. “At least that was the word going around.”
“The nephew fell off a ladder and broke his leg something terrible. Had to have it taken off,” Owen said. “Can’t hardly walk, much less chase down cutpurses in Covent Gardens.”
Daniel didn’t question how Owen knew, nor the veracity of his story. He’d long ago given up trying to suss out Owen’s sources. The tea steamed as Daniel blew across his cup. “Until a new case comes along, we’re all stuck here on court duty.”
Owen put his hands on his hips. “Caleb, go sweep the secretary’s room, dust the shelves in the records room, and then run to the printers for that letterhead. You remember where it is?”
Caleb nodded.
“Good. And don’t touch anything in the records room except the dust. I’ve got a system, and I don’t want it upset.”
Caleb nodded again, tugged his forelock with a slight bow toward the investigators, and hurried out of the room. When he was gone, Owen pulled up a chair from a nearby desk. “I might have a case for you. Something troublesome anyway. On my way to the office today, I crossed the Blackfriars Bridge and turned onto Fleet Street, my usual route. There’s a little chap, Davy’s his name, who sweeps the crossing there. He’s been there every day for the past two years and hasn’t missed once, but today he wasn’t there. I asked the pie seller and the beer man who use that corner, and they hadn’t seen him.”
“Perhaps he got a different corner that was better or his folks up and moved?” Ed asked.
“He hasn’t got any folks. We’ve chatted often, and sometimes, if I can spare it, I buy a pie and we split it for breakfast.”
Daniel remembered the mean circumstances of Owen’s home life. A widowed mother, several younger siblings, and miles to walk to get to Bow Street each day. Owen provided for his family the best he could, and he was proud of it. For him to care enough to share his own meager breakfast with a crossing sweeper …
“Street children are elusive. If he found a better corner or if he perhaps found a different position, he wouldn’t hang around waiting to inform you,” Daniel observed, taking a seed cake. Biting into it, he grimaced. Hard and stale. He set it on his saucer.
“It’s odd, I tell you. He wouldn’t miss unless something was wrong,” Owen insisted. “Can you look into it?”
Daniel looked to Ed to give Owen the bad news, knowing it would come better from Ed.
“Unless we’re certain a crime has been committed, we can’t investigate. And you heard Daniel. We’re on court duty until a case comes in.”
“A missing person isn’t a crime? Is it because he’s a poor nobody that you won’t investigate? Does he have to be rich for anyone to do anything?” Owen stood, his body rigid. “There’s something wrong, I tell you. Davy wouldn’t just disappear. Something’s happened to him.”
“Calm yourself. It’s not that we don’t care. You know us better than that. We don’t show favoritism in the cases we take. But you’ve no proof of a crime.” Daniel frowned. Cadogan had mentioned a missing child in Spitalfields, a chimney sweep’s boy? Still, there were thousands of street children in London, and they traveled about the city with no one to track their movements. “A street child wasn’t on the corner where you expected him, and no one in the area suspects foul play but you? Bring us evidence and we’ll get to work.” Daniel finished his tea. “Until then, we need to get upstairs to court.”
At the rate Owen crashed the tea things about as he stacked the cups, he might be out of pocket for some crockery. Ed joined Daniel in the hallway.
“Poor blighter. He cares.”
“I know he cares, and so do we, but we can’t go chasing every rumor or suspicion, especially when it concerns someone as ephemeral as a street child. The ones I have encountered are next door to feral. The boy probably found a better crossing where he could make more money.” Daniel eyed the staircase, dreading the boredom that awaited them in the court today.
“Blackfriars and Fleet would be difficult to beat for making coin. Lots of businessmen pass through there heading into the City.”
The door to the street opened behind them, and a dark-skinned man came in, yanking his hat from his head. His eyes were round, the whites glaringly stark.
Daniel stepped forward. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I come to report a murder.” The man’s voice was thick with a West Indian accent. “At the Olympian Club. On Red Lion Square.”
A murder. That was more like it. “We’ll come. Let us inform our superior. Flag us a ride.”
“I’ve one waiting, sir.”
His waiting carriage was owned by none other than Cadogan, who looked none too pleased about this particular fare. Did he have something against dark-skinned people riding in his cab? Cadogan had scowled and climbed to his seat, picking up the reins without offering his usual banter as they climbed aboard.
Daniel took out his notebook and pencil as they jounced toward the club. “Your name, sir?”
“Abel, sir.”
“Abel what?”
“Just Abel, sir.”
Daniel wrote down the name as the man rubbed his palm against his nape and then dragged his hands down his face. Was he normally this fidgety? He was certainly well dressed, with clean, fashionable clothes and shiny boots. “What can you tell us?”
“The boss, Mr. Jericho. He’s dead. In his office, sir.”
“You say he was murdered. How do you know?”
“The hole in his chest may have had something to do with it, sir.”
Ed grunted, as if covering a laugh.
“This Mr. Jericho. Does he have a first name?”
“That is his first name, sir. Mr. Jericho Haskett.”
“What is the Olympian Club?”
“It is a gambling hall, sir. There are rooms for club members if they wish to stay the night, and there is a bar and dining room.”
Red Lion Square was bordered by row houses and businesses. A plaque on the black iron railing in front of their destination announced the Olympian Club.
Abel hopped out of the carriage first, holding the door as a footman would. Perhaps that was his occupation at the club.
They entered the club, and not a sound could be heard in the building. “Is there no one here?”
“Those who stay overnight are requested to be out of their rooms by eight o’clock, sir. To give the staff time to clean and prepare them for the coming day. Breakfast service concludes at nine, and the house is closed until noon.”
“What about staff? Where are they?”
“When we found Mr. Jericho, the secretary, Mr. Alton, sent the servants to the hall downstairs to wait. Then he sent me to Bow Street, sir.”
“Where is this Mr. Alton? We’ll want to speak with him.”
“I’ll get him, sir.”
“Wait. Show us the body first. Then fetch him.”
Abel led them up the stairs and down the left-hand hallway to a room in the back corner of the first floor. “Mr. Jericho’s office, sir.”
He stood back, allowing Daniel and Ed to enter, then hurried away to find the secretary.
One shutter was open, letting in morning light, but the other three were closed.
“I imagine someone came in to ready the place, opened one shutter, and found him,” Ed speculated.
A large walnut desk stood square and imposing in the center of the book-lined room, and behind it a portly man lay sprawled on his back. As Abel had said, a bloodstained hole just left of center in his chest had most likely contributed to his demise. Daniel squatted beside the body as Ed opened the other shutters.
With the end of his pencil, Daniel lifted the lapel on the man’s waistcoat, peering underneath.
“Anything?” Ed asked.
“Something penetrated his chest, but it doesn’t look like a gunshot. The wound is too narrow and long. Looks like a knife of some sort. We’d better send for Rosebreen. He’ll be able to tell us more about what killed this fellow.”
A man cleared his throat in the hall. “You wished to see me, gentlemen?”
“Mr. Alton?” Daniel asked.
“Yes.” The man studiously avoided looking at his dead boss.
“You found the body?”
“Yes.”
“Did you touch anything, move anything?”
“No.” The man looked aghast. “I didn’t see him until I’d opened the shutter. He isn’t usually here at this hour.”
“Is there anything missing, anything out of place?” Daniel asked.
Alton scanned the room, his gaze resting briefly on an interior wall, then he bent over the body. “His cravat pin is gone. A black enamel rose with a diamond center.”
Daniel wrote it down. “Anything else?”
“Have you checked for his purse? He always carries quite a bit of coin in a leather pouch.”
Ed dipped into the pockets, shaking his head. “Nothing there. Think this is a robbery that turned into something else?”
“A bit early for theories, but it’s possible.” Daniel noticed the ornaments on the desk, a silver inkwell, a brass letter opener. Those would be easy to fence at a receiver’s shop. This murder scene had the feel of a single killer, not a group of thieves. Still, he must keep an open mind and gather information. He followed the clues rather than trying to find clues that fit a theory.
Owen Wilkinson edged around Mr. Alton. “Guv sent me to help. What can I do?”
Daniel smothered a smile, knowing Owen wouldn’t like what he had to say. For once Daniel wasn’t displeased to have the office boy, investigator-in-training appear at a crime scene. He waved his hand toward the desk and filing cabinets.
“You know where to start.”
Owen scowled, but he said nothing as he stacked papers together.
Chapter 5
JULIETTE ENTERED AGATHA’S DRAWING ROOM, her stomach fluttering. Do not mention the inheritance dispute. Do not mention Daniel. Behave as if everything is normal.
“Jules.” Agatha jumped to her feet and hurried toward Juliette. “You won’t believe it.” She engulfed Juliette in a tight hug, the black silk of her mourning gown rustling. “I am dumbstruck. It’s the most awful thing.”
“What is it?” Juliette took note of the other woman in the room, someone she didn’t know.
Agatha released her. She put her hand to her chest, as if out of breath. “Oh, do forgive my manners. Juliette, this is Viscountess Coatsworth, Alonzo’s mother. She’s come with the most dreadful news.”
Juliette’s stomach sank. Did Agatha already know? She inclined her head to the guest. “Pleased to meet you, Lady Coatsworth.”
The woman had a long, narrow face, pale hair, and pale eyes, and was so thin, Juliette feared her bones would poke through the fabric of her gown. She also had a pinched look of umbrage on her features. She gave a quick nod, acknowledging Juliette’s greeting.
“Do continue, please,” Agatha said. “Juliette, just listen. I never would have suspected it of him. He always seemed so nice.”
Lady Coatsworth’s nostrils flared as her mouth tightened. “There has been a claim against my son’s estate. My father-in-law declared in his will that my marriage to his son was invalid, that our child is illegitimate, and some … some … money-grubbing by-blow of a kitchen maid is his true heir.”
Juliette flinched. Daniel wasn’t moneygrubbing. He was a victim of fraud and cowardice. Everything in her wanted to leap to his defense, but his words of caution filled her ears. Say nothing. Don’t indicate our relationship is anything beyond what it seems.
“The claims are the false ramblings of a sick old man, and the moment Alonzo returns, we will quash these rumors. I am the legal widow of William Darby, and my son is his legitimate heir. This Mr. Swann will be exposed as a charlatan, my son will inherit the title, and we will put this farce behind us.” Lady Coatsworth throttled her handkerchief.
“Mr. Swann?” Juliette feigned ignorance. “What has he to do with Alonzo’s inheritance?”
“That man is claiming his mother was married to my husband and that the marriage was never legally dissolved. That he, being a year older than Alonzo, is the legal, legitimate heir to Rotherhide. He intends to present his claim to the Crown.” The viscountess looked both enraged and appalled.
“Has he proof?” Juliette asked.
“Of course not. The earl was a sick old man, out of his head when he made those claims. It’s all twaddle that should have been ignored from the outset. It’s that Duke of Haverly who is pushing for an investigation. Him and his solicitors. I hear he’s brought Sir James Durridge in to prepare the claim. Mr. Swann will rue the day he tried to steal what rightfully belongs to my son.”
Agatha leaned forward. “I know he saved you from those kidnappers, Juliette, and I know he found the man who killed my father, but he’s not a gentleman. You should stay away from him, though I can’t imagine further situations where you will encounter each other. But if you do, cut him dead. It’s what he deserves. Alonzo suspected him of something from the moment they met. You remember. Alonzo didn’t like him, and now he has good reason.”
“Does he? What if Mr. Swann’s claim is the truth? He and Alonzo would be brothers, wouldn’t they?” Juliette asked.
Lady Coatsworth gasped. “Bite your tongue, girl. You cannot think any of this is true? My son is in no way related to this grasping liar. He’s the result of a loose woman’s indiscretion. His father is probably a groom or gardener or gadabout, for all we know.”
Juliette bit her lower lip. It was so hard not to defend Daniel’s character, but she could see it would make no difference. The viscountess could not acknowledge even the possibility of Daniel’s claim, because to do so would make her a bigamous wife with an illegitimate son.
Agatha sighed. “I am eager for Alonzo’s return. It seems an age since I saw him, though it’s not even a month yet. I understand now why he left. If his grandfather sent him to the West Indies, he would, of course, be obedient and go. It is only a shame the old earl passed away. If he lived still, we could get him to recant his statements.”
The viscountess nodded once, hard. “Alonzo must miss you as well, my dear. The moment your mourning period is over, we will announce the engagement and see you properly wed. You will be the Countess of Rotherhide, and this nonsense will be over.”
“When do you expect him?” Juliette asked.
“If the ship I sent after him can catch him up before they leave the Canary Islands, he should return within the fortnight. If not, it may take several weeks.”
“It’s too bad he won’t be here for the Easter services tomorrow. Will you be attending church, Agatha?” Juliette hoped to get the topic changed. Agatha had not been seen in public often since her father’s death, electing to remain in her house over the last month.
“Yes, I believe I will. Church is one of the few places it is acceptable for me to go while still in full mourning. I do wish Alonzo was here. How can he fight these false claims when he’s not even in the country?”
So much for changing the subject.
“He has us, my dear. He has you and I, and he has our legal advisers.” Lady Coatsworth nodded twice. “We will fight on his behalf until he can take up the matter himself.”
“Wouldn’t it be best to let the attorney general and the committee sort it out?” Juliette asked. “If there is no truth to the claims, then the lords and the Prince Regent will sort it out.”
“Those incompetent buffoons don’t know ‘lie down’ from ‘fetch’ half the time, especially the Prince Regent,” the viscountess retorted.
Juliette smothered her smile.
The butler opened the drawing room door. “The Duchess of Haverly and the dowager duchess, ma’am.”
Juliette bit her lip. How would Agatha and the viscountess react to having them here when the duke was clearly helping Daniel make his claims against the Rotherhide estate? This could put the cat amongst pigeons.
“Agatha, how are you, my dear?” Charlotte came to Agatha, who had risen, and cupped her shoulders, drawing her in for a kiss on the cheek.
“Your Grace, it’s so nice of you to call.” Agatha’s eyes were wide. It was an honor to have someone of Charlotte’s status call upon her, but the Haverlys were in the enemy camp at the moment.
Talk about avoiding caltrops in high grass.
Lady Coatsworth looked as if she’d just smelled bad fish. “How do you do?” she asked when addressed, but her tone could have frozen a brazier. What else could she do but show good manners? The duchess and the dowager held power of rank over her by several degrees. The viscountess couldn’t cut them or behave with even veiled rudeness, or she would find herself on the wrong end of societal opinion.
Agatha invited the ladies to sit, and the dowager took the center chair, stacking her hands on her cane. “Agatha, you look well in spite of your trials. How dreadful of that man to shoot your father over money.”
“Thank you.” Agatha sounded cowed, and her shoulders sloped.
Juliette nudged her and straightened her back. Agatha caught her hint and sat up. “Yes, it was dreadful. I am glad Mr. Earnshaw was brought to justice. Your son recommended another man of accounts, whom I could trust. He has been helping me with my father’s finances. It was most kind of His Grace.”
Charlotte smiled, and her hand went to her middle, where a distinct bump was showing. “I’m glad. You can trust Marcus.”
The viscountess snorted, then tried to cover it with a cough.
“Lucy, dear. I hope you’re not coming down with something. It would be so flattening to be ill this close to the end of the Season. There are so many lovely parties coming up.” The dowager turned to Juliette. “We must confer on our calendars. What invitations has your mother accepted on your behalf?”
“I am not certain. Thankfully, my parents will not be away long, as they have been invited by the regent to stay with him in Brighton next month.” Juliette smiled politely at the dowager. “I do appreciate you stepping in for them once again.”
