The Body in the Garden

by Katharine Schellman

  And Mr. Lacey, of the shipping firm Lacey and West.

  Lily spoke slowly, turning over the possibilities in her mind. “Tell me, Anna, could a woman shoot a man she cared for?”

  “There was one as did just that in Clerkenwell last month, ma’am.” The question clearly made Anna uneasy. “Her beau wanted her to run away with him, but she was married already, and her husband rich enough to give her pin money every week and new gloves whenever she wanted. She wouldn’t leave him, and the beau threatened to tell the husband that she’d cuckolded him. She shot him to keep the secret, but it came out anyway.” Anna shivered. “If that will be all, ma’am, I’ll go see if Mrs. Carstairs needs any help with supper.”

  Lily was left alone at last. Her mind sorting through everything she had learned that day, she was very still for ten minutes. Then, moving to her writing desk, she penned two notes, careful which details were included in each. When those were done, she summoned Jem from the kitchen, handing him the two letters for delivery with careful instructions. Jem, grinning broadly, saluted and scampered off.

  Lily wished she could feel as cheerful as he looked. But one way or another, she reflected, it would all be over soon.

  She had a murderer to catch.

  CHAPTER 26

  Jack arrived at Half Moon Street at a quarter to eight o’clock. Jem caught him at the end of the street, materializing out of the shadows to whisper that Missus Adler had given two of her servants the night off; only the butler remained.

  “Do you know why?” Jack murmured back, not turning to face the boy.

  Jem’s surprise was obvious. “I’d-a thought you’d know, Cap’n,” he said.

  Jack frowned. “Stay close, and keep watch.” The boy gave him a quick salute before melting back into the shadows.

  The butler showed Jack into the parlor, where Lily was waiting with drinks. She kept to general conversation as they sat, but Jack did not miss the slight tremble of her hands, or the way she kept glancing at the windows. Finally, impatient to know what was wrong and why she had summoned him, he set his glass down with a thunk and leaned forward.

  “Out with it. I know there is something the matter.”

  Lily nodded in agreement. “I needed to wait until eight o’clock.”

  “Why?”

  She stood. “Snuff that branch of candles to your left.”

  Mystified, Jack did as he was told; Lily put out the ones on the other side of the room until only one flame and the dim light that came through the open dining room door remained. She was left mostly in shadow, but Jack could hear her take a deep breath before she crossed to the window and pulled back the edge of the heavy curtain. “Someone is watching my house. According to your urchin, he has been there for the past two nights.” Her voice shook a little as she turned toward him. “Would you look?”

  He obeyed, taking the curtain from her hand and standing to one side of the window so he could not be seen from the outside. He wanted to believe she was imagining things, but he had learned better than that: Lily Adler did not imagine what was not there. So he was unsurprised to see a shrouded figure lurking in the shadows opposite them, watching the house. Jack swore. “There is no good reason for a man to lurk in Mayfair like that.”

  “No,” Lily agreed quietly. “There is not.”

  Lacey’s missing conspirator. Jack’s jaw clenched. It had to be. “Do you want me to go after him?”

  Lily’s expression was unreadable in the dim light. “Yes,” she said. “That was what I was hoping for.”

  “Good.” Jack lifted the edge of the curtain again and eyed the street. Struck by a sudden thought, he added, “Is that pistol of yours nearby?”

  Lily’s hesitation was so brief, he almost missed it. “No, I sent it to the gunsmith to have the hammer repaired. Should you not hurry?” She lifted an edge of the curtain once more to peer out at the street. “He may leave if you wait too long.”

  Jack frowned over the absence of the pistol but did not press the issue. “Not to worry. Jem’s out there. With his help, it should be a quick thing to catch the bounder.” He eyed her warily. “You will stay inside, I hope, and not rush into danger after me?”

  She smiled in a way that, had he not been distracted, would have struck him as odd. “I give you my word I’ll not leave the house.”

  “Good.” Jack rolled out his shoulders and gave her a quick nod. “Lock the front door behind me.”

  * * *

  Jack swung his cane, idly whistling as he sauntered down the front steps, looking like nothing more than a society gentleman heading out to his evening engagements. As he passed the spot where the silent watcher waited, the man’s head turned to follow him for a moment, then turned back to Lily’s house.

  Jack watched out of the corner of his eye. The lurker was clearly not a patient man; Jack had gone only a few houses down when the man made his move, slinking out of the shadows and heading toward number thirteen.

  Jack abandoned stealth, shouting for Jem as he ran toward the black-cloaked figure. He could see the boy bolting down the street, suddenly looking less like a gangly urchin and more like a fighter. The man paused in the middle of the street, realizing his mistake as two angry figures barreled toward him. He turned and fled.

  With another shout for Jem, Jack chased after him. He didn’t stop to think about what might happen if anyone saw them tearing through the streets of Mayfair. He only knew that he had to keep the unknown man from threatening Lily ever again.

  Freddy would never forgive him if he failed.

  * * *

  Lily watched out the window as Jack and his shadow disappeared in pursuit of the watcher. Still standing to one side, out of the light, she kept watching until she saw another figure peek out from the alley next to her home, then vanish back into the shadows.

  Lily smiled, took a deep breath, and let the curtain fall back into place. A murderer would be calling on her soon.

  * * *

  It took longer than Jack expected to run his quarry to ground, but the twisting path the man took meant that none of them could move particularly fast. The watcher was about to dodge into an alley off Sackville Street when Jack launched himself into a flying tackle and caught the man around the waist, both of them tumbling to the ground. He was vaguely aware of Jem, unable to help in such close quarters, standing ready to stop the unknown man if he tried to flee again, but Jack was occupied with two wildly flailing fists, one of which caught him in the stomach. Bellowing, he swung a right hook of his own squarely into the other man’s jaw. The stranger dropped instantly.

  Slowly, wincing as he straightened and shaking out his numb fist, Jack climbed to his feet, aided by a friendly hand from the boy.

  “Hell of a facer, Cap’n.” Jem was beaming. “All right? Looked like he caught you a good ’un hisself.”

  Too out of breath to answer, Jack nodded. When he had recovered enough, they bent together to heave the unknown man over onto his back. There was just enough light spilling into the alley to make out his face.

  “Harper?” Jack stared at the figure sprawled on the cobblestones. Reggie Harper groaned as he opened his eyes to narrow slits, then threw an arm over his face to block the light. “What the devil have you to do with any of this?”

  “He ain’t wrapped up in your murder business?” Jem frowned. “Wiv his uncle?”

  “Murder?” Harper groaned again. “What the hell are you— Gad, my head. What the hell is wrong with you, Hartley?”

  “Wrong with me?” Jack grabbed Harper by the coat, hauling him to his feet and shoving him against a wall as the other man stumbled, protesting feebly. “Jem, is this the man that has been lurking outside Mrs. Adler’s home?”

  “Looks like him, Cap’n.”

  “Adler? Lily Adler?” Harper licked his lips, looking panicked. “You have it all wrong, Hartley. She and I have an arrangement.”

  “Liar.” Jack’s grip tightened, twisting the fabric around Harper’s neck until the other man
coughed and tried to pull away.

  “You didn’t think you were the only one bedding her, did you?” His attempt at a sneer was ruined as he winced, one hand clutching his bruised jaw. “Each night after you leave, she opens that little side door for me—” He broke off, gasping, as Jack tightened his grip again.

  “Well, that ain’t true,” Jem said scornfully. “Can’t the blighter come up wiv a better lie than that?”

  “Apparently not.” Jack leaned in until his face was only inches away from the other man’s. “You had best start telling me the truth, Harper. Bow Street cleared you of your uncle’s murder, but I know someone broke into Mrs. Adler’s house. Did Lacey put you up to this before he died? Were you the one who killed him?”

  “Lacey? That peasant?” Harper scowled. “What the devil are you on about?”

  Jack held out one hand. “Jem, do you have a knife with you?”

  “Always, sir.”

  “Easy, easy!” For the first time, Harper looked genuinely panicked. “No need for any of that, Hartley. We can be civilized.”

  “Then tell me what you were doing outside Mrs. Adler’s house. Were you planning to try to shoot her again?”

  “Shoot her? I told you, I was—” Harper’s eyes grew wide as Jem handed over his knife, and he scrambled against the wall, trying to get away. “All right, all right! I’ve not been bedding her, are you happy? She’d not have me, the bitch; I was just going to make her see sense …”

  Jack suddenly remembered the gossip he had heard about Reggie Harper, the way Lily had scowled when she mentioned his name. He did not make a favorable impression, Miss Oswald had replied, both women looking disgusted.

  Harper wasn’t a murderer, Jack realized. He was a predator, bent on frightening and manipulating women into bedding him.

  His grip relaxed, and Harper pulled away instantly. “Glad you can see sense. And I can assure you she is not worth all this fuss. Women like that are practically begging—”

  Jack smashed his fist into the man’s face, and Harper dropped like a stone.

  He and Jem stared at the unconscious figure, both of them disgusted. “He didn’t have nothing to do wiv the murder at all,” the boy said. “Well, I s’pose Missus Adler’s instructions make a lot more sense now.”

  Jack felt suddenly chilled. “Her instructions?”

  Jem nodded. “When she had me deliver her letters, she said as you would be catching the man who was watching her house, and I was s’posed to have some of my mates ready to take care of him. Said to make sure as no one hurt the blighter, though. I wondered why she didn’t want me to call them Bow Street fellows.” The boy frowned down at Harper’s prone body and used his toe to nudge the man farther into a puddle of filthy water. “Seems as she just wanted him served a nasty turn.”

  “She knew it would be Harper, then,” Jack said slowly, his hands slowly clenching into fists. “And that he wasn’t involved in the murder at all.”

  “But then whoever killed old Lacey is still—” Jem was about to dash back toward Half Moon Street when Jack caught his arm. “Cap’n, we have to go back!”

  “Wait.” Jack’s tone was grim. Lily had sent him after the man on purpose. And if that was the case … “We need a plan. Are your mates nearby?”

  Jem nodded. “Should’ve followed us.” He let out a shrill whistle, and a moment later three wary-looking urchins of various ages materialized out of the gloom.

  Jack looked them over, thinking rapidly. “All right, boys. Whatever he has on him is fair game, but no injuries.” With grim humor, he added, “I imagine his clothes would fetch a good price all on their own.” The three boys glanced at each other, grinning, before setting to work.

  “What about Missus Adler?” Jem demanded, his wiry body coiled as if ready for a fight.

  “If I give you an address and my card, can you fetch a man to Half Moon Street? He’s quality, so you will need to be persuasive.” At the boy’s eager nod, Jack gave his instruction, and Jem took off at a run.

  A moment later, Jem’s three mates followed, melting into the shadows, leaving behind the completely stripped body of Reggie Harper, pale and defenseless in the dim light, except for the visible bruise growing on his jaw. The night watch would pick him up soon enough, and that, at least, was grimly satisfying.

  Jack wavered for a moment, wanting to go back to Half Moon Street and make sure Lily was safe. But he had to trust that she could take care of herself. With a muffled curse, he set off back toward Mayfair.

  * * *

  Lily moved across the hall into the well-lit drawing room. She would have preferred to sequester herself somewhere else—the book-room or her upstairs sitting room would have felt cozier and safer—but the drawing room had a clear view of the street and, more importantly, was next to the passage that led to the side door. So that was where she had to remain.

  After letting herself be seen at the front window, alone and unguarded, Lily felt a pang of fear. There was every chance she had just made a terrible choice. And even if she was proved right, Jack might never forgive her for the way she had tricked him. But she couldn’t think of another way.

  She took a deep breath, quickly checked that the door to the outside was unlocked, and settled down with an open book in her lap. She was sure her pounding heart was loud enough to be heard halfway down the street, but she did her best to ignore it, staring at the book without reading and counting seconds to distract herself from her shaking hands.

  It had been less than five minutes when the soft click of the latch reached her ears. A shadow flickered past the door to the hall, and a woman slipped inside after it. The candlelight glinted off the knife in her hand.

  Lily watched out of the corner of her eye, waiting until the door closed before lifting her head. “Good evening, dear.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Isobel Harper started, and the knife she carried wavered ever so slightly. But she recovered and inclined her head as if in polite greeting. “Mrs. Adler. I am surprised to find you still awake.”

  “It has been a rather eventful evening.” Lily’s voice was as pleasant as she could manage while a woman she had known since her schoolgirl days pointed a knife toward her heart. “I imagine they will have caught your brother by now; he did not look to be a swift runner.” Lily sighed, using the quick rise and fall of her shoulders to hide the movement of her hand slipping further under the book in her lap.

  “Reggie.” Miss Harper’s lip curled, the sneer so at odds with her usual demure expression that it made her look like a different person. “He never could stand to be turned down by a woman. I realized you were his latest obsession when I drove you home from Lady Walter’s and saw him lurking outside your house. And then the very next evening you told me someone had been following you! Amusing, really, how distressed you were. Reggie’s a despicable fool, but he could not have been a more helpful distraction if he had been trying.”

  “You have been fortunate in the number of distractions you managed to hide behind.” Lily shook her head. “I am not proud of how long it took me to discover your role in the events of the last few weeks.”

  “For some time I was sure you already had.” Miss Harper’s voice had steadied. “But even when I realized you’d not seen me that night, I knew it was only a matter of time before you put the pieces together. Bow Street gave up quickly, but not you. If it helps, Lily, you have my admiration. And I truly wish this were not necessary.” She took a firmer grip on her knife and stepped forward. “But I cannot have you exposing me.”

  “I never much liked you, Isobel, but I would never have imagined you growing into a murderer.”

  Miss Harper shrugged. “It is rather amazing, the things one will do to secure a happy life. And the sensational novels are correct in one thing. It does become easier. Augustus’s death was …” She paused, shaking her head. “I liked him very much, and even fancied myself quite fond of him for a few months there. He was quite charming, and he had a practical mind. A
lmost as practical as my own. His death was unfortunate.” Her voice was as calm as a hostess regretting that there was no milk for the tea, and it sent a chill down Lily’s spine. “But not my uncle’s. The stupid man spent his life taking credit for the work of others, first during the war, and then when I devised a way—” She broke off as her voice began to rise with fury. Taking a breath, she smiled and said, calm once again, “My uncle’s death was a pleasure.”

  “What about Mr. Lacey?”

  “Lacey?” Miss Harper laughed, her face twisted with the scorn that Lily remembered so well from their school days. “Who will miss a man like that?”

  “And I?”

  “A sad necessity. I do apologize, but one does what one must. Unfortunately, I had to leave my pistol in Newgate, and I imagine being stabbed to death is most unpleasant. I shall do my best to make it quick, and I can offer you this comfort: since I know you are too proud to have told anyone before you were absolutely certain it was I, you will fortunately be the last.”

  “Not quite the last, Miss Harper.”

  Miss Harper started, looking before she could stop herself to where Ofelia Oswald watched her from the passageway. As soon as she was distracted, Lily was on her feet, the pistol she had held concealed in her lap pointed steadily at her assailant.

  Miss Harper froze.

  “I shot at you once, Isobel,” Lily said. “You know I shan’t hesitate to do it again, and there is not a court in the land that would convict me of anything but defending my home against an intruder.” Lily cocked the hammer on her pistol, and the click echoed through the room.

  Isobel Harper trembled, but she still managed to look calm. “I doubt that, Lily. You did not know it was me before, and even someone as cold as you could not shoot a woman you have known since girlhood.”

  “Fortunately, I have not known you nearly so long.” There was a second click, and over Isobel’s shoulder Lily saw Ofelia raise a pistol of her own. The candlelight glinted off a spot on the barrel, and Lily knew that if she examined it closely she would find the initials AJF inlaid in the wood—Mr. Finch’s second pistol, which Ofelia had taken from his room at the George.