The Imposter's Inheritance (Glass and Steele Book 9)

by C. J. Archer

  I smiled to myself. All we had to do now was verify if anyone saw him there.

  "You in the market, Glass?" Lord Farnsworth asked.

  "I am," Matt said. "But I don't know the local scene here."

  "Come with me to Tattersalls. There's another auction this Monday. Meet me at three out the front." He winked. "Bring a bank draft. Now, I must dash. Good day, Mrs. Glass. See you Monday, Glass."

  He let himself out of the library and was met in the entrance hall by Bristow, who had to rush to the front door before Lord Farnsworth got to it first. Matt and I watched him leave.

  "He doesn't improve on further acquaintance," Matt said. "I thought he might be different during the day, before imbibing champagne, but it seems he's always an idiot."

  "An idiot who's going to show you around Tattersalls where you can verify his whereabouts for last Monday."

  I'd promised Matt I wouldn't wait up for him, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't sleep while he was out following Mr. Longmire. Parts of London were dangerous enough after dark, but Mr. Longmire added a measure of unpredictability to the mix. Unpredictable because Matt didn't know where he was going, who he was meeting, and whether he carried a weapon.

  The later the hour, the more I worried. I shouldn't have sent Willie with him. She was too volatile, too quick to draw her gun. But Duke hadn't returned from visiting Mrs. Rotherhide and Cyclops was unavailable.

  I sprang up the moment I heard the front door and raced into the entrance hall.

  "I need a drink," Willie said, heading to the library.

  "Well?" I asked Matt. "How did it go?"

  "Don't get mad," he said, touching his forehead at the hairline.

  I held the candle higher. "You're bleeding!" I grabbed his arm and bundled him into the library. "Pour another drink, Willie."

  "For him or you?" she asked.

  "Both. Sit," I ordered Matt.

  He sat and I checked the wound. It was a small cut but there was also a bruise forming around his eye. I frowned at him and he gave me a sheepish shrug.

  "What happened?" I asked, accepting the glass of sherry from Willie.

  "We met with trouble," Matt said, taking the whiskey tumbler that Willie offered. "Longmire was set upon by two men near his lodgings. Willie and I intervened."

  I fixed him with a glare then turned it onto Willie. "You should let Longmire fight his own battles."

  "I can't stand by and watch that," Matt said. "Not two against one."

  I sighed. He was right. He wasn't the sort of man who could look the other way when someone was in trouble. Not even if the victim was a man he disliked.

  "They ran off after throwing a couple of punches," Matt said.

  "Lucky punches," Willie cut in. "Matt got there before me. By the time I reached the fight, it was all over. If he'd waited for me, that pretty face of his wouldn't be all knocked about now." She glared at him.

  He smiled back. "At least you didn't draw your Colt."

  "Only because I was worried I'd hit you in the dark."

  "Thank goodness you were there, Willie," I said. "Your presence helped even up the numbers and probably scared them off."

  "You're welcome, India. I'll protect Matt any day. You just ask."

  Matt cleared his throat. "I think it was my capabilities that made them abandon the fight. I got in several good punches. I doubt they even noticed Willie."

  "Didn't notice me? I was hollering like a stuck pig!"

  "What did Longmire do while you two were fighting and squealing?" I asked.

  "Not squealing," Willie pointed out. "Hollering. You ain't never been around pigs, India, so you don't know the difference."

  I took a long sip of my drink, hoping to find some patience in the bottom of the glass.

  "He was receiving the blows of one of the thugs," Matt said.

  "He didn't even thank us afterward." Willie shook her head. "We shouldn't have bothered, Matt. He ain't worth it. He was dropping off more of them nasty letters," she told me. "That's where he goes every night, to deliver another."

  "We confronted him after we saw him slip one under a door," Matt said. "He didn't care. He headed home, we followed at a distance and saw the men come out of the shadows and attack him."

  "Did you get a good look at the men?" I asked.

  Matt nodded.

  "Then you should see Brockwell tomorrow and report the incident. Give him the names of the two magicians Oscar gave me. He should start by questioning them."

  "I'm not sure it's wise to interfere," Matt said.

  "It ain't a case for Jasper anyway," Willie added.

  "It involves magic, and he's the resident expert on magical crimes in Scotland Yard," I said. "I'm sure he'll look into it. You must go too, Willie, to give an identification."

  She scratched her head, messing up her wild hair even more. "He don't want to see me."

  "This is work, not pleasure. He won't refuse. Anyway, I'm sure he does want to see you again. He must be missing your company by now."

  "I disgust him, India."

  "Nonsense. He just needed time to get over his surprise, that's all. I'm sure he has come to realize your—er—broad tastes are not so shocking."

  "It still shocks you."

  "No, it doesn't."

  "Then why are you blushing?"

  "It's the candlelight. You're going to see him tomorrow, Willie, and that's that. Even if I have to drag you there myself."

  She grunted into her glass. "I'd like to see you try."

  "Don't test me. I know where you keep your gun."

  "You'll shoot me?"

  "I'll confiscate it." I shot her a smile. "That'll hurt you more."

  Detective Inspector Brockwell was off-duty on Sunday afternoon. We waited for him at his home, but it was some time before he returned. He had probably taken advantage of the spring sunshine and gone for a walk. He invited us inside upon his return.

  "Is this about your arrest?" he asked Willie as he showed us into the parlor. "You have nothing to worry about. I made sure it wasn't recorded."

  "It ain't about that," Willie said, not meeting his gaze.

  He gathered up the newspapers covering one of the armchairs. He looked around for somewhere to put them, but all the spare surfaces were taken up by other newspapers, files, sketches, notes and what appeared to be a box of evidence. Two dirty cups, a plate and bowl had been stacked on one of the occasional tables. The crooked pile looked as though the vibrations from our footsteps would send it tumbling to the floor.

  "Do you mind if we talk in the kitchen?" he asked. "Sundays are my housekeeper's day off. I think she left some cake in case I had visitors. Not that I get many visitors. In fact, the only visitors I ever get are you three." He chuckled but it quickly faded.

  He led the way down the hall to the kitchen, scratching his sideburns the entire time.

  "Is your visit here to do with that bruise around your eye and the cut on your forehead, Glass?" he asked as he pulled a tin off a shelf. He opened the lid, sniffed the contents then set it on the table. "She already sliced it. Help yourselves while I make the tea."

  Willie shook her head. "You're hopeless without the housekeeper." She took a plate off the buffet and placed slices of fruitcake from the tin on it. "Can you make the tea or is that too difficult?"

  "I'm capable of making tea," he told her from the range where a kettle rested over the low heat. "I have to make it every morning before she comes and every Sunday."

  I watched the scene of comfortable domesticity with a smile on my face. Until Willie noticed and scowled at me.

  "So what happened, Glass?" Brockwell asked. "Did you annoy someone?"

  "Willie and I were set upon—"

  Brockwell spun around, teapot in hand. "Are you hurt, Miss Johnson?"

  "Do I look hurt?" Willie snapped.

  I wanted to shake her. He cared about her, that much was certain from his reaction.

  He tried to hide his concern with a grunt. "I suppose
you scared them off with your gun."

  "I didn't draw it."

  "Good. We can't have women going about brandishing guns in the streets of London. We don't want to turn into the Wild West."

  "What's wrong with the Wild West?" she shot back. "And do you think men are better handling guns? Or just that women shouldn't be allowed to have 'em?"

  "That's a loaded question," Matt warned him.

  "Thank you, Glass," Brockwell said with heavy sarcasm.

  "Let's discuss the assault," I said cheerfully.

  "You should report it at your local station," Brockwell said as he touched the side of the kettle. Satisfied it was hot enough, he poured it into the teapot.

  "It's magic related," Matt said. "We thought you would prefer to investigate. Commissioner Munro won't want us to take it to the local constabulary."

  "Don't bring my superior into this. He doesn't trouble himself with day to day cases."

  "He does if it's related to magic. The thing is, a man called Longmire was assaulted a second time, most likely by the same attackers. Willie and I can describe them, and India has the names of two likely suspects, both magicians. Longmire sent them threatening letters, calling them cheats for using their magic in their businesses. We'd like you to interview them and see if our descriptions match their appearances."

  "And if they don't?" he asked.

  "Then we'll provide you with the names of other suspects."

  Brockwell set out teacups and saucers, the sugar bowl and teaspoons. "You have to have it black, sorry," he said.

  We drank tea at the kitchen table since the range warmed the room. Awkward silence quickly descended, however, until Matt broke it by asking Brockwell about his latest case. Brockwell refused to answer and that was the end of that.

  I nudged Willie's leg with my foot under the table. She scowled back and remained silent. It would seem it was up to me to rescue this little tea party.

  "We're still searching for the stolen magical coronet," I told Brockwell. "We have some suspects. All of them are wealthy and well connected."

  He listened as I told him about our suspects, without naming names, and what we planned to do to unmask the thief. "Would you like to help us?" I asked. "It would be much easier if you could question the suspects in an official capacity. For one thing, we wouldn't have to spend so much money bribing servants." I laughed.

  No one laughed with me.

  Brockwell finished his tea and set the cup down. He toyed with it for a moment then pushed it away. Willie watched him from beneath lowered lashes, her fingers gripping her teacup tightly.

  "I've already told you, I can't interfere in another detective's case," he said.

  The conversation stalled again. We finished our tea and got up to leave. Willie said an awkward goodbye, Matt shook Brockwell's hand, and I caught the detective inspector by the elbow as he went to lead the way to the front door.

  I let the other two go on ahead then rounded on him. "Speak to her," I hissed.

  "I can't," he whispered back. "It's awkward between us now."

  "It doesn't have to be. She likes you, a lot. She doesn't want your liaison to end. She told me so."

  He stood there, blinking back at me with a rather stupid, vacant expression. It was impossible to read his thoughts.

  "Does it bother you so much that she also likes women?" I asked.

  He stretched his neck and scrubbed the patch of hair beneath his chin. "I let her go when she wanted me to. I didn't mind. Spending time away from each other can be good. Besides, we're both set in our ways and neither of us wants marriage. I've been patient and understanding, Mrs. Glass, but this…this is something I didn't see until it struck me in the face. I don't like surprises."

  I stabbed him in the shoulder with my finger. "You need to get used to it or you'll both be miserable." I went to walk off but returned. "You were patient and understanding because what she wanted suited you. Now there's a new challenge in your relationship, one you weren't prepared for, and you're throwing up your hands in surrender. Just because something is new and different doesn't mean you ought to back away from it." Something Willie said to me a few days ago seemed appropriate now. "Not everything in life is methodical and clear-cut. Sometimes it's messy. Embrace the mess, Inspector, or you will lose her altogether."

  I strode along the corridor, leaving the detective inspector staring after me.

  "What were you two talking about?" Willie asked when we were in the carriage.

  "I gave him some advice that someone once gave me," I said.

  "How did he take it?" Matt asked.

  "Only time will tell."

  Chapter 13

  Duke returned late in the afternoon after spending the previous evening and entire day with Mrs. Rotherhide. "Her servants had the day off," he said with a secretive smile.

  "Let me guess, it took you all that time to find out where the merry widow was last Monday in the early evening," Willie said snidely. She'd been in a bad mood ever since returning from seeing Brockwell. Nothing had cheered her up, not even a game of poker. She'd constantly glanced at the clock and commented about Duke not being back yet. I wasn't sure if she was jealous that he was spending time with someone other than her or because she had no one when he did. Usually it was the other way around.

  "She didn't want to be alone," Duke said.

  Willie snorted.

  Aunt Letitia entered the sitting room and asked me to play cards with her before dinner. "Not poker," she said. "Something more civilized."

  "Of course," I said. "But I must hear what Duke has to say about our suspect. If you can't abide hearing about the investigation then you may not want to stay."

  "Thank you for considering my sensibilities, but it's quite all right. If we must discuss such things as work…" She wrinkled her nose. "…then now is the time to discuss it, before dinner."

  "It's not really work," Matt said. "I'm not being paid for this investigation."

  "Then discuss it all you want. Perhaps I can help. Start with telling me about the crime and the victim.”

  “There was a theft and we’ve been tasked with retrieving the object. I can’t tell you who the victim is because I’ve assured him privacy.”

  “It’s that lord mentioned in the gossip column, isn’t it? The one with the magical coronet, who suddenly found himself with an older brother.” She clicked her tongue. “Dreadful business.”

  Sometimes her cleverness surprised us all.

  “Don’t look so shocked,” she went on with a superior air. “It’s not hard to deduce since you specialize in crimes involving magic. Duke, what do you have to report?"

  Duke stood by the fireplace, his hand resting on the mantelpiece since he wasn't tall enough to rest his elbow on it like Matt. "Petronella—Mrs. Rotherhide—"

  "You're on a first name basis with your suspect?" Aunt Letitia clicked her tongue. "I understand if Willemina makes the mistake of getting too close to a potential murderer—"

  "Thief, in this instance," Matt said.

  "But I expected better from you, Duke."

  Duke slunk into a seat at the card table. "Sorry, Miss Glass."

  Willie rolled her eyes. "Did you finally get to see her magic collection?"

  "I did. There was no coronet. I also found out more about her movements on the Monday. She dined with friends that night and returned home at eleven-thirty. By my reckoning, she would have been dressing for dinner at a quarter past six in the afternoon."

  "That's true," Aunt Letitia said. "It can take some time to prepare, as you well know, India. Willemina, you wouldn't understand."

  "Nope," Willie agreed, shuffling the cards. "I don't see the point of dressing for dinner."

  Duke huffed out a laugh. "You don't see the point of dressing during the day. That outfit ain't fit to be called proper clothes," he added, waving a hand at her buckskins.

  "It takes me a full five minutes to do my hair like this," Willie said.

  "It shows."<
br />
  She moved the cards to her left hand and was about to give him a rude gesture with her right, but Matt caught her fist and shook his head at her.

  She snatched her hand free and continued to shuffle. "So the merry widow claims she was getting ready. Did you check with her maid?"

  "She didn't claim anything, I just assumed," Duke said. "It's not something you can just put into the conversation. It wasn't easy asking her what she was doing last Monday without raising suspicion."

  Willie dealt the cards, tossing Duke's carelessly in his direction. "So she could have been out at a quarter past six."

  "Not if she had to get ready for dinner," Aunt Letitia said. "It takes at least an hour and a half. Longer if she had something elaborate done to her hair or if her maid is inexperienced."

  Duke snatched up his cards. "But just to ease everyone's minds, I thought you could speak to her maid, Willie."

  "Why me?"

  "You're good at getting the maids to talk."

  "True."

  "Not as good as Matt, but good enough."

  Matt's narrowed gaze slid to me. "You're overstating my abilities, Duke."

  "What about the Landers?" Duke asked Willie. "Did you find out what they were doing on Monday at quarter past six?"

  Willie had already informed us and it took some encouraging from Duke before she'd repeat herself. "The Landers were out all day and into the evening at a friend's house just outside the city. I checked with the coachman and he says he took them there and brought them back and they didn't leave in between."

  "That's a solid alibi," Aunt Letitia said.

  Willie nodded her approval. "You've picked up some of the lingo, Letty. Good for you."

  "I might be old but I can still listen. It seems you can strike these Landers people off your list of suspects, Matthew."

  "Not quite," Willie said and explained about Wentworth, the butler. "India found out he's in love with Mrs. Landers and gave her a special gift the night of the party. It could be the stolen coronet. Turns out, Wentworth took advantage of his employers' absence and left the house at the time in question on Monday. The other staff don't know where he went."