To his credit, Lewis sent Crimpley a flat look of warning. “Your input into this investigation is unnecessary, Mr. Crimpley,” he said.
“Mayor Crimpley,” Crimpley grumbled.
Lewis appeared to ignore him. “Please take a seat and remain quiet during the questions.”
Crimpley snorted and, for a moment, looked like a puffed-up parrot with ruffled feathers. He glanced around the room, then said, “There are no more chairs.”
“Then stand,” Jason said in a particularly forbidding voice.
Crimpley bristled, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Lewis nodded to him, then resumed his seat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he faced Willy. “Now, son, are you certain you had no contact at all with your father after his escape from prison?”
Lawrence exchanged a glance with Jason. The two of them stayed where they were, standing somewhat behind Lewis and Burnell’s chairs, but they both crossed their arms, like two mighty colossi, standing guard over Willy.
The show of strength didn’t appear to be lost on Willy. He glanced from Lawrence to Jason, gulped, and squirmed in his chair to sit up straighter. “No, sir,” he said, though his voice shook. “I was glad when he was put in jail. He never did like me or my sisters much, only the things we could do for him.”
“And what did you do for him?” Lewis asked.
“Me and Elsie, we begged in the streets when he wanted money,” Willy said. “He made Connie do other things because she was older.” He burst into tears.
Lewis’s expression darkened. He glanced up to Lawrence and asked, “Are the girls safe now?”
“They are,” Lawrence answered. “Connie entered service with Lord Waltham and Elsie is at home.” He figured it would be best to keep Mother Grace out of things.
Lewis nodded and returned to Willy. “So he didn’t contact you at all? Didn’t send you any messages, didn’t come to visit you in secret?”
“No, sir.” Willy shook his head, then glanced to Jason.
Jason nodded subtly to Willy. There was a level of intensity in his eyes that made Lawrence wonder if Jason had coached the boy on what to say to the detective. Lawrence wouldn’t have put it past his friend. He would have to thank him for it later.
“Did you see your father at all after the trial in Kendal?” Lewis asked on.
“No, sir,” Willy said. “I didn’t want to neither. I went to live with Matty and Lawrence at the forge, and then later, when the school kicked me out, I came to work here at the hotel.”
Lewis frowned. Lawrence tensed at the reaction.
“The school kicked you out?” Lewis asked.
“For being a rascal and a bad influence,” Crimpley spoke up, stepping forward again. “He’s rotten to the core, this one. Just ask our schoolteacher, Mr. Palmer.”
Instead of telling Crimpley off for interfering, Lewis looked as though he’d stumbled across a clue. “Why did you leave school, Willy?” he asked. “Was it because your grades weren’t good?”
Willy pouted, crossing his arms. “I can read and spell and do my figures.”
“Then why were you asked to leave school?”
“For theft,” Crimpley interrupted once more. His whole face lit up, as though he’d scored a victory. “And for fighting with the other boys. He’s a villainous, lying, violent thief, that one.”
“I am not,” Willy barked.
“You see?” Crimpley said. “He’s got a vicious look in his eyes, just like that killer father of his.”
“I never killed no one,” Willy shouted even louder.
“No one is saying you did, Willy,” Jason told him in what Lawrence supposed was intended to be a calming voice. The coaching look was back in Jason’s eyes as well, hinting to Lawrence how close to the edge they all were.
“Perhaps we could continue this another time,” Flossie said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “We’re upsetting poor Willy too much.”
“His delinquency proves that he must have some knowledge of his father’s murder,” Crimpley insisted. “Why was Hoag’s body found near Brynthwaite? Why not in Kendal, where he was imprisoned, or Grasmere, his home? The boy knows something. So do his sisters. And it all points back to this man, I’m sure.” He flung a hand toward Lawrence.
The thin threads that were holding Lawrence’s temper in check snapped. “Are you accusing me of murdering Hoag?” he demanded, rounding on Crimpley. “You think that I tracked down an escaped convict, captured him in secret, rowed him out to the middle of the Brynswater, and shot him?”
“Yes,” Crimpley shouted, throwing up his hands. “A confession. We have a confession.”
“You have nothing of the sort,” Lawrence said. “Do I own a boat? Do I own a firearm? Have you ever seen me with either?”
“I…but…I know you can row,” Crimpley stammered.
“So can nearly all the men in the Lake District,” Lawrence growled. “Including yourself.”
“Are you suggesting I murdered Hoag?” Crimpley asked, his mouth flapping like a fish.
“And why not?” Lawrence grabbed the bait Crimpley offered and swam with it. “What better way to bring attention to the town you constantly remind everyone you are in charge of? What better way to keep the limelight on yourself? It’s even a brilliant opportunity to get rid of enemies you’ve had for years. You’ve had it in for me since I was a boy, and all because of rumors I’m half-gypsy.”
“Is this true?” Lewis asked with a frown.
“It is,” Jason answered without hesitation. “Ask anyone in town who Crimpley has held a grudge against for years and they’ll tell you the same. Lawrence Smith.”
Lewis stood again, taking a few steps to face Crimpley. “So help me, Mr. Crimpley, if you’ve dragged me this far north for the sake of a grudge, I might have to investigate your office for traces of corruption.”
“But the man is dead,” Crimpley squeaked as though someone had him by the throat. His face was red and sweating to boot. “A man was shot and thrown in the lake.”
“The man was a known murderer,” Lewis said. “He was guilty of shady dealings all throughout Cumbria. Any number of men—business associates, fellow inmates, former friends—could have wanted him dead and had far more means to accomplish the task than these poor people. And yet, you’ve insisted I intimidate a small child in order to fuel a personal feud?”
“It’s not like that at all,” Crimpley said in a strangled voice.
“Isn’t it?” Lewis glared hard at Crimpley, then turned first to Jason, then to Lawrence. “I have no more questions for the boy.” He turned to Willy. “Master Willy, thank you for answering me honestly. I’m sorry if the ordeal was frightening.” He glanced to Burnell, then back to Crimpley. “My investigation here is done. You’ve wasted my time. Gentlemen.” He nodded to Jason and Lawrence before marching to the door, throwing it open, and leaving the office.
Burnell scrambled to follow, and with a final, gaping glance of fury for Lawrence, Crimpley raced after them as well, calling, “They’re guilty. I know they’re guilty. It has to be them.”
Lawrence listened as Crimpley’s protests could be heard crossing the lobby and leaving the hotel all together. Jason stepped cautiously to the door, shut it carefully, then turned and sagged against it with a sigh.
At the same time, Willy burst into sobs. “That was scary,” he wailed, twisting and throwing himself into Flossie’s arms.
“It was, sweetheart, I know it was,” Flossie said, attempting to comfort him. “But you did a good job.”
“I thought he would catch me,” Willy wept on. “I thought for sure he knew.”
“He didn’t know anything,” Lawrence said, rushing across the room to rest his hand on Willy’s back. “And I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“I don’t think he is either,” Jason said, joining their group. “But Crimpley will go on the war path now. We’ve embarrassed him.”
“The man is an embarrassment to himse
lf,” Lawrence said.
“It’s all over now,” Flossie continued to say, soothing Willy but looking to Jason and Lawrence.
But Lawrence didn’t believe for a moment that it was entirely over. Jason was right. Crimpley would be out for blood, and he wouldn’t stop until he drew gallons of it. Which meant Lawrence had to strike the man first.
Jason
Fending off Det. Lewis and, more importantly, Crimpley was a victory that Jason felt was long overdue. For all of them. It lifted a weight off his shoulders in a way he hadn’t expected. He felt like celebrating, but with Lady Waltham’s event still going on in the dining room and all of the daily work he and Flossie had put aside to host it, there wasn’t time for it. He hugged Willy soundly, feeling that unaccountable surge of paternal affection the odd boy raised in him, then turned his thoughts back to work.
“The ladies will linger for hours after the presentation is over,” he said, straightening and tugging at his coat. “Which means there’s much still to do. Flossie, perhaps you could take Willy back to his room until—”
“I want to help,” Willy interrupted him, leaping out of his chair.
The boy was a mess. His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose was streaming. His clothes were all askew, as was his hair, but Jason’s heart melted.
“All right. Flossie, take Willy back to the kitchen and clean him up, then set him to work serving refreshments.”
“Yes, sir,” Willy said with a broad smile, as though Jason had issued the order to him and not Flossie.
Flossie sent him a fond look of camaraderie as she escorted Willy out of the room. Her eyes sparkled and her lips curved into a tempting smile. It was enough to set his heart pounding and to make him wish the hotel were abandoned and there was nothing for the two of them to do but entwine their naked bodies.
“I should get back to the forge,” Lawrence said, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Jason noted that his friend looked beyond exhausted, in spite of the positive outcome. “Is everything else all right?” he asked.
Lawrence winced and glanced to the office’s open door. Jason took that as a cue to step over and shut it, giving them privacy.
“I’ve upset Marshall,” Lawrence admitted. “And at the worst possible moment.”
“Why?” Jason crossed his arms. “What’s wrong with Marshall? I thought he was the happiest man in the British Empire since reconciling with Alex.”
Lawrence rolled his shoulders, scrubbed a hand across his face, and looked about as uncomfortable as Jason had ever seen him. “He recently found out that Mother Grace is his actual mother, the woman who gave birth to him.”
Jason’s jaw dropped. The revelation came as such a shock that he stepped back and sat heavily on the edge of his desk. “No. Really?”
“Really,” Lawrence said. “Matty accidentally stumbled across the truth this winter. Marshall only found out recently, though. Something about Flossie’s sister mistaking him for someone from back home who, it turns out, is very likely his half-brother. Marshall’s father was married to another woman when Marshall was conceived.”
“Damn,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Knowing Marshall, that was as big a blow to him as anything else.”
“Yes, well, I went and made it worse by telling him of my plans to leave Brynthwaite in order to find Barsali and to learn more about my origins,” Lawrence went on.
A second wave of shock hit Jason and he stood. “You can’t leave Brynthwaite,” he said.
Lawrence let out a tense sigh. “As I told Marshall, this world and this life is not for me. The blacksmithing trade is being swallowed up by mechanization and it’s only a matter of time before—”
“No,” Jason interrupted him. “I mean you can’t leave Brynthwaite while there’s even a hint of suspicion that you might be involved in Hoag’s murder.”
Lawrence shut his mouth with a frown. “But you heard Lewis. He doesn’t believe Willy did it. And I think we all made a good case that Crimpley’s opinion that I had something to do with it is because of a personal grudge.”
“Yes,” Jason said, stepping closer and lowering his voice, even though they were alone. “But you were involved in the murder. We are all accomplices. All of us. And we all need to be painstakingly careful in every move we make until the official investigation is well and truly over and until the entire matter has been forgotten.”
Lawrence stared at him with a look that was half frustration and half painful acceptance. It tore Jason up inside to see his friend suffering. Everything Lawrence said was right—he was an artisan of a profession that was quickly disappearing, he was living a life he wasn’t suited for, and he had a family to discover. But he was also trapped.
Jason thumped his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Think about it,” he said. “Don’t make any decisions yet. You will have a chance to find your family, but for now, you have another family that needs you to stay put.”
“Damn you, Jason,” Lawrence said with a sigh, walking with Jason to the office door. “I hate it when you make sense. Why can’t you go back to being a depraved madman?”
“Oh, I am a depraved madman,” Jason said as he opened the door. “I’ve simply become adept at hiding that fact.”
The two shared a brotherly chuckle, and Jason thumped Lawrence’s back one more time before veering off to return to the literary event.
A wall of chatter hit Jason square in the face as he walked into the dining room. Mrs. Hyde’s presentation was over, and the ladies had descended into gossip and conversation over tea and treats. And, of course, where there was gossip, there was Lady E.
“Jason!” She spotted him the moment he entered the room and broke away from the group of ladies she’d been speaking with to fetch him. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. How naughty of you to slip away when I am longing to introduce you to Lady Campbell.”
She spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear her calling him to heel. As soon as she reached him, she grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the ladies who had come up from London for the event. Her demeanor was everything it had been in London and more, as if she were the organ-grinder and he were the monkey.
“Are we doing this again?” he murmured to her as they crossed the room. At least now, in the light of the winter’s events, he could hold his own better.
“Of course,” E answered. “You are my adoring fiancé, after all, and the more we are able to impress these fine ladies, the higher my chances of joining their circle when I make my next visit to London.”
Jason hummed noncommittally in answer. He wanted to frown at her and warn her not to drag him around like a puppy again, but he only had time to put on a gracious smile as they reached the ladies.
“Mr. Throckmorton,” Lady Campbell greeted him with a smile. “Thank you once again for hosting such a lovely event.”
“Yes,” Lady Waltham agreed. “I can always count on Mr. Throckmorton to dazzle his guests with style and sophistication.”
“Ladies, it is my pleasure,” Jason said bowing.
“Oh, you already know Lady Campbell?” E asked, clearly disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to get the upper hand in introducing him.
“They are guests at my hotel, my dear,” Jason told her, deciding to play along exactly as she wanted him to for a change. “But not one of them has charmed me half so much as you do on a daily basis.” He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles.
E grinned in approval, pretending to be besotted with Jason. But the assembly of grand London ladies merely stared at them, uncertainty and disbelief in their eyes. Jason instantly had the impression he was leagues out of his depth.
“What about Miss Stowe?” Lady Helm asked, blinking rapidly. “I thought—”
“You simply must return to Brynthwaite for our wedding next month,” E interrupted her, a brittleness to her voice. “It’s going to be the event of the season in the north. Titled men and women from all corners of England will be here.”
Jason had the good sense to look embarrassed in response to Lady Helm’s question. He studied the baffled ladies, wondering how much of the bizarre situation they already knew. “Great romances,” he said judiciously, “like great business mergers, are investments in the future. Both combine promise and practicality to create something grander than what existed before.”
He was talking rubbish, of course, but Lady Waltham and her friends hummed and nodded their heads in understanding, exchanging knowing looks. They managed to set Jason at ease. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find that women whose husbands had steered the course of the British government for the last decade and more would understand a political marriage when they saw one.
Lady E, however, was apparently left out of the loop. “Jason adores me,” she said with a hint of desperation in her voice, her face pinching slightly. “Miss Stowe is….” She paused, pressing her lips together, evidently unable to come up with what Flossie was. Jason could think of several unkind things she could have been called, but at least E had the good sense to keep those words to herself. “Jason adores me,” she repeated, her smile returning in full, even if it was forced.
“I’m certain he does,” Lady Campbell said, resting a matronly hand on E’s arm, then sending Jason a wise look.
“Tell them, Jason,” E demanded.
“I adore Elizabeth,” Jason said on cue. He smiled at her, attempting to communicate the wisdom of forbearance.
Lucky for E, it was a drama of another kind that turned all attention away from her.
“No, I will not be silent about the matter.” Lady Charlotte raised her voice, clearly in the middle of an argument.
Jason pivoted to find her sitting at one of the tables with Alex, Mary, and Lady Arabella. Of all people, Colin Armstrong was there as well, hovering behind Arabella’s chair.
“A woman’s place is with her husband,” Lady Charlotte went on. “Arabella has been absent too long, and it has been wicked of her.”
“Mama,” Alex hissed, still loud enough to be heard by everyone who had dropped their own conversations to listen in. “You know the circumstances. You know why she has stayed away.”
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part Three Page 10
