He reached up and dragged the cloth from his face to reveal an expression of grim determination. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I have been an utter fool about this case. Hand me a towel, would you?” he said as he bolted up, sending water everywhere.
“What?” I asked, unsure I’d really heard him correctly.
“Eleven will be fine, though there is much to be done by then. What time is it now?”
“Half past six.”
“Four and a half hours . . . ,” he muttered, hopping out of the tub and tying the towel about his waist. “We will do this,” he vowed as he flung the door open and burst from the room. I stood there a moment, fully startled, unable to think of anything better to do than lean over and yank the plug from the drain. “Come on!” I heard him holler. And that was all I needed to go rushing after him.
CHAPTER 34
I was tasked with two errands to be accomplished in just a hair less than two hours. It seemed a credible request, yet I was keenly aware that the slightest event unaccounted for would be enough to delay me past the nine forty-five deadline Colin had set for us to meet back at Buckingham. What concerned me, however, was that his timing determination hadn’t taken into account the human factor, the very thing we had the least control over.
As my cab slowed among the row of houses lining Regent’s Park, I leaned over and peered inside the small canvas bag nestled beside me. Lady Priscilla lay inside, curled up on a swirl of the pink blanket. The pug’s fatigue was evident in that she didn’t stir, her cream-colored chest rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of deep sleep. Lady Nesbitt-Normand would be ecstatic. Nevertheless, it was imperative for me to make a quick exit so I could get to Lancaster Gate as well. If the streets became impassable I would have little choice but to sprint or retreat into the Underground, two options wholly unappealing.
My furry companion and I were deposited outside the Nesbitt-Normand home and quickly made our way up the circular drive. It was evident my young charge knew precisely where she was, as she suddenly woke up and began jostling about inside the bag the closer we got to the door. By the time I stood on the portico, the bag cradled in both arms, the pup’s whimpering anticipation was incontestable. I couldn’t help but laugh as I grabbed the bronze knocker and slammed it firmly.
Mrs. Holloway opened the door so quickly that I wondered if she hadn’t been waiting right there. “Oh,” she said with curiosity, “it’s you, Mr. Pruitt.”
“It is.” I smiled. “Is Her Ladyship at home? I think she will be most pleased to receive me.”
Mrs. Holloway’s eyes dropped to the squirming bag in my arms and her breath caught. “Oh my,” she gasped. “Oh my!” I grinned as she ushered me to the study. “Don’t move,” she gushed. “I shall have Lady Nesbitt-Normand here before you can even sit down.” She ran from the study like a giggling schoolgirl, bounding up the stairs two at a time as though they were less than standard size.
I put the satchel containing Lady Priscilla onto the floor near the fireplace. The sides of the bag bulged and flattened randomly over the course of a minute and I knew the little pup was shuffling her blanket in anticipation of lying down again. She had no sooner settled when a blast of commotion drifted in from the foyer.
“Mrs. Holloway tells me you’ve brought some sort of parcel?!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand squealed as she burst into the study, Mrs. Holloway on her heels. “Tell me it’s what I think . . . ,” she begged, her face as full of hope as a youngster’s on Christmas morning.
“Mrs. Holloway has not steered you wrong.” I grinned, stepping back to reveal the little carrier now quite alive with motion and whining.
“Oh!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand nearly swooned at the sight, a hand racing up to her chest as though her heart were on the verge of seizing. “Oh my lord!” she gasped as she rocketed forward like a tidal wave. “My baby!” she cried, scooping the frenzied dog out of the bag and into her arms. “It’s a miracle. How did you find her? Where did you find her?”
“A dognapping ring,” I answered as Colin had instructed. “Very bad business, but I think you will find your little lady all the same for it.” It was as close to the truth as we could offer, given Colin’s deal with Edwina Easterbrooke. “Mr. Pendragon disbanded the entire operation. I believe you will find your dear girl much safer now.” And that, at least, was fully true.
“I am simply overcome!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand beamed as she pressed the little pup to her chest.
“There now,” Mrs. Holloway piped up. “The day has gotten better already.”
“It has . . . it has . . .” Lady Nesbitt-Normand agreed, plying Lady Priscilla with a bathing of kisses. “And to think how distraught I was just a short time ago.”
“Had you lost faith in Mr. Pendragon?” I chided.
“Heavens no!” she squealed as the little pug batted at her face with an errant paw. “Not at all, Mr. Pruitt. It’s Elsa. She left us during the night. Put some terrible note on her door and spirited away. Mrs. Holloway found it. What did it say?”
“That she felt responsible for Lady Priscilla’s disappearance and had no option but to resign.”
“Just dreadful,” Lady Nesbitt-Normand muttered, putting the dog on the couch as she settled in beside her. “I suppose it is the noble thing to do, but I hardly relish finding a new trainer.”
I shook my head with a smile even as I sidled toward the door. “Any trainer would be honored to work with such a beautiful ward. But you must excuse me, as I have business to attend to for Mr. Pendragon. May I give him your good wishes?”
“You may give him more than that!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand heaved herself off the couch and went round to a desk on the far side of the room. “I had a bank draft prepared for him. I knew he would succeed.” She tossed me a coquettish smile as she reached into one of the drawers and yanked out a check. “You shall give this to him with my deepest gratitude.”
I glanced down at the draft as she handed it over and saw a number many times larger than what we had agreed upon. “Oh, madam,” I almost choked, “you are too generous. We cannot possibly accept this amount for only three days’ work.”
“Fie.” She waved me off. “You can and you will. I’ll not hear another word about it. And you must give Mr. Pendragon one more thing.”
“Of course.” I nodded, now prepared to do whatever she asked. Even so, I was quite taken by surprise when she suddenly stepped forward and seized me in a great, plastering hug. The air heaved from my lungs as she squeezed me, and then just as abruptly she released me again and stepped back with a beatific smile.
“I am a fortunate woman,” she said, “but you and Mr. Pendragon have returned the one blessing that means more to me than anything else in this world. I could never thank you enough.”
The sincerity of her words struck me as much as the glistening tears that sprang to the corners of her eyes. “It has been our privilege,” I said, my own emotion catching in my throat. I looked at Mrs. Holloway and found her grinning happily and could not help the smile that spread across my face. As I let my eyes drift over her shoulder to a clock on the far wall, however, my pleasure came to an immediate end: eight thirty-five. My smile curdled as I realized I had just over an hour to get all the way to Lady Stuart’s and back to Buckingham, an assuredly impossible feat. I glanced back at the radiant face of Lady Nesbitt-Normand and in that instant was struck by the ideal solution.
CHAPTER 35
The small coach picked up speed as we turned the corner off Lancaster Gate and headed away from Lady Stuart’s home toward Green Park by way of Bond Street. Lady Nesbitt-Normand’s driver, Fletcher, was proving more than adept at guiding us around clogged streets and impassable alleyways, just as I had known he would be, which assuaged my guilt for having taken advantage of her gratitude to enlist his aid.
We rocketed through the turn into Green Park, the uneven cobbles rattling furiously beneath our wheels, as I pulled out my watch to discover that it was just past nine thirty; I would make i
t on time. Fletcher guided us around a steep corner and through a pocket of trees before, at last, we careened across the final leg to Buckingham Palace.
“Shall I wait for you?” he asked as we drew up to the massive bronze gates.
“No. You have done me a world of service. I cannot thank you enough.” He tipped his hat and threw me a small smile as he pulled away.
The guard stationed at the gate seemed aware of my imminent arrival and gestured to a younger guardsman who immediately ushered me inside the grounds. That young man handed me off to yet another gentleman at the side portico who once again led me down the same austere hallway I had traversed so many times over the past three days. At last I was delivered to the same meeting room Colin and I had been using from the start.
Colin was already there, tilted back in a seat on the far side of the table, his agitation evident by the speed with which a silver coin was being rotated between his fingers. I thanked my escort and went inside, catching sight of a burlap sack tucked under the table by Colin’s feet. I was about to ask what he had collected when he spoke up. “Thank heavens you’ve arrived first.”
“First?”
“We are about to be joined by three of the Life Guards, one of whom I am certain is the killer. I’m afraid this is a most sad and regrettable case made doubly so by our own circumstances. Was Lady Stuart cooperative?”
“Without hesitation,” I responded as I sat down beside him. “But what are you talking about? You know who the killer is? And what circumstances of ours?”
But he only waved me off. “I haven’t time to tell you all I’ve come to believe, but you must brace yourself for a most disturbing revelation,” he said, his brow furrowing and his lips drawing tight. “And there is one last thing I will need from you. One last lie you must sell.” My heart began to gallop again as he quickly started to lay out my part. Before he could finish, however, a clamor arose from the hallway and I knew the men he had summoned were coming. “Follow my lead,” he charged. “You’ll just have to figure out the rest as we go.” My stomach flopped as he pushed himself up, setting his feet firmly on the floor with his hands folded neatly atop the table.
I glanced over to the door just as Major Hampstead came bustling in with the dour rusty-headed Private O’Fallon and thin, loping Private Newcombe. That these were the three Colin had summoned did not surprise me, and yet, had I been forced to pick the guilty man, I knew I could not.
Major Hampstead, his oval face a vision of pinched angles and displeasure, spoke up first. “I find your beckoning us here an hour before you are to address the newsmen most disagreeable, Mr. Pendragon. If this is some sort of game then I shall thank you to not waste my time.”
“I assure you it is no such thing,” he answered, remaining stiffly upright in his chair. “There are some crucial aspects to this case that I have only just become aware of in the last several hours, and I feel I must outline them for you. I only ask your indulgence for a brief time before I face your cadre of newsmen, six hours earlier than we had originally agreed, I might add.”
“That’s not my fault,” he shot back, his eyes shifting to me.
Colin raised a hand. “It hardly matters.”
“I should think your time would be better spent memorizing the announcement I’ve had prepared for you.”
“You have asked me to lie, Major. There is little preparation needed for that.”
“I have asked you to make them believe it!” he snapped, his face as dark as the room’s shadowed corners.
“Yes, yes.” Colin waved him off. “Now if you don’t mind, I do have a spot of time left. . . .”
For an instant I thought Major Hampstead might refuse to cooperate, but until Colin addressed the newsmen he retained the upper hand. With a tight nod, all three of the men reluctantly took a seat.
“Private Newcombe,” Colin said smoothly, addressing the normally affable young man. “You will permit me to once again address the evening that cost your father his life?”
He shrugged, though I could tell he was already on edge. “If you must.”
“Who did you tell me was with your father that night?”
He frowned and I noticed his eyes flick to the major. “Major Hampstead, Captain Bellingham, and Captain Morgesster. Same as the last time you asked me.”
“Of course. And who told you what happened that night? That your father had been injured?”
“I don’t remember.”
“It was I, Mr. Pendragon.” Major Hampstead spoke in a voice as chilled as frost. “I relayed the story to Private Newcombe. I was there, after all.”
“Yes . . . so you were,” Colin muttered. “So tell me, Major, will it surprise you then to discover that there was someone else with you that night?”
Private Newcombe frowned. “What?”
“Captain Morgesster—”
“—is an old flummoxed fool!” Major Hampstead growled.
“That old sot was always seeing double.” Private Newcombe laughed. “It’s why they retired him. You’re making a mistake if you’re paying heed to any of his stories.”
“What about Captain Brady of the Irish Guard? He mentioned that almost all of the men from the Life Guard were officers that night. Funny word, ‘almost.’ ” Colin shifted his gaze back to Major Hampstead.
“Either you are insinuating that my memory is at fault . . . ,” he answered with rigid composure, “. . . or you are calling me a liar.”
“I only mean to arrive at the truth,” Colin said, forcing a smile that I’m sure we all recognized as hollow. “What that means with respect to your memory or reputation is beyond my control.”
“Do not piss on me. I’m warning you.”
“You’re warning me of what?”
The major held his tongue but took that moment to glance at his watch.
“I don’t understand.” It was Private Newcombe who spoke up again. “What does that wretched night have to do with Captain Bellingham’s murder anyway?”
“Everything,” Colin answered as he shifted his eyes to Major Hampstead again. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
The major calmly drew a breath and announced, “We are done here.” He dangled his watch by its fob, spinning it around like a priceless gem. “I’m certain the majority of the newsmen have already arrived, and as you have failed to solve this case as we agreed, it is time for you to prepare.” He pushed himself up from the table.
“If you are ignorant as to who committed these murders,” Colin said with equal aplomb, “then how can you be so certain I have failed?”
“So now you mean to accuse me?!” he roared.
Colin shrugged as his eyebrows eased skyward.
Major Hampstead leaned forward with a sneer, locking his gaze on to Colin. “If you have an issue with me, Mr. Pendragon, then you shall take it up with me alone. I will not have you bandying about my reputation in front of my men.” He spun on his two young privates. “You are both dismissed.”
“Not just yet.” Colin’s grin was tight and threatening. “I still have some time left, Major, and if you don’t live up to your part of our agreement then I shall have no choice but to present my case to your newsmen as I believe it to be true. You must understand, Major, that I am certain I have solved this crime.”
“What?!” Private Newcombe’s blasé countenance abruptly fell away. “What are you saying?”
No one spoke for a moment as Major Hampstead continued to glare at Colin. My heart was racing and I could not so much as draw a breath until after the major slowly lowered himself back into his seat.
“All right, Mr. Pendragon,” he tersely allowed, “I will hear you out. But not with these men here.”
“No concessions, Major. These men stay.”
Major Hampstead’s fury at Colin’s unwillingness to be cowed was evident in both the deep furrow of his brow and the tight set of his mouth. “Have your say then,” he growled through clenched teeth, “but unless you have a tintype of the deed being done y
ou shall find my hand up your ass moving your lips to the words I decide in exactly thirty minutes!”
Colin’s gaze did not waver. “We shall see. So let us begin with one simple question for you, Major: Who was the fifth person with you the night you were set upon by those Irish blokes?”
“Why do you keep bringing that blasted night up?” Private Newcombe stared from Colin to Major Hampstead, outright fury now flushing his cheeks.
Colin glanced at me and I knew it was time to spin the tale he had fed me. “There were three Irish lads,” I spoke up, “all of whom were court-martialed and discharged from their guard as a result of your father’s death.” Having repeated what little truth we had, I began spinning the folly Colin had instructed me in. “We found one of those boys, Private. A scrawny lad who has yet to afford passage back to Ireland. It has left him right foul and he remembers the fifth person with the officers that night. A ginger, he said. And he remembers what started it all.”
“I won’t listen to this.” Private Newcombe jumped up. “What my father was—killed my mum. I’m glad he’s dead. He got what he deserved.” And before any of us could react, he turned and fled, leaving a steely silence in his wake.
“Well”—Colin spoke gravely—“I suppose Private Newcombe has made the point all of us fear the most. Besides which, he’s not a ginger anyway. But you, Private O’Fallon”—he turned to the pale young man seated next to Major Hampstead—“you rather fit that description.”
“So what?”
“Come now, Mr. Pendragon,” Major Hampstead scoffed. “What sort of drivel is this?”
“Will you still think it drivel when I ask Mr. Pruitt to bring the young Irish rogue in here to identify Private O’Fallon?”
“Bollocks!” the major barked too harshly. “You haven’t the time for such a thing. You’re out of tricks, Mr. Pendragon.”
The Bellingham Bloodbath Page 24
