“That’s not why I did it,” said Stapleton. “If you’d touched his hand, chances are he would have pulled you to the bars and put a blade to your throat. I doubt Lynwood would approve.”
Hal couldn’t believe how unprepared he was for the dangers of simply visiting the prison. Dangers Stapleton faced on a continual basis. Not for the first time as of late, he felt like the veriest wastrel.
“What Bleaker said back there, about me spending too much time at Madame Thurmond’s…” said Hal.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell your brothers.”
“That’s not what I meant. I did do that, but not anymore.”
“You’re reforming?” asked Stapleton with good-natured skepticism.
“It would seem so,” said Hal.
Stapleton nodded to a guard, who unlocked a solid oak door to reveal an interrogation room. A lone prisoner sat on the other side of a table, shackled to a chair, his head down as he slept. Stapleton took a seat on the opposite bench and motioned for Hal to join him.
The prisoner shook the sleep from his eyes as he studied the men seated opposite him. “You again,” he said to Stapleton. “I hope you came with a pardon. Never did care for this place.”
“I thought this was your first visit, Rodgers” said Stapleton, who looked like he hadn’t believed that Banbury tale for a moment.
“It’s the first time I’ve been incarcerated,” said Rodgers smoothly. “But I done visited before, doing my Christian duty to help the less fortunate. Now, who’s the toff you brung and is he goin’ to give me my pardon?”
“His name is none of your concern. But I would like you to tell him your story.”
“Again?” asked Rodgers, as he sat back in his chair. “I already done told you everythin’ I know.”
“Again,” said Stapleton in a tone that brooked no compromise.
“Fine. But I’ll expect that pardon when I’m done. I’ve wasted enough time already.” He cleared his throat in preparation to tell the story. “I do a fair amount of business around the docks.”
Stapleton turned to Hal. “Rodgers here specializes in burgling ships and various other crimes by the docks. Including, I suspect, a murder now and again.”
In response, Rodgers simply smiled. “As you say, you ‘suspect.’ I can’t help what you got in your mind to think of me. And you has to prove I’m guilty to do anythin’ about it. But that’s neither here nor there. My work takes me to the docks and the past several months there’s been rumors. At first it was just whores gone missing, and you never know what’d happen to a girl like that.”
“Whether they’ve been murdered,” said Hal.
Rodgers shrugged. “It’s a risk they take doing that with all sorts of low lifes. Ain’t nothin’ new and this is the first I ever heard Bow Street interested in it. Anyways, no bodies has shown up, which also ain’t that unusual since there’s any number of ways to make a corpse disappear.”
“As you would know,” said Stapleton.
“So you suspect,” said Rodgers, enjoying the power he held. “Then more coves started commentin’ on the whores, especially when the girls they used to pay wasn’t around no more. Then I heard a rumor that it was slavers.”
“White slavers in London?” said Hal. “But they were run out years ago.”
Rodgers snorted. “They always come back. They always will. Don’t matter what the punishment, if there’s blunt to be made someone’s gonna make it.”
“Do you know they took the girls for a fact?” asked Hal.
Rodgers shrugged again. “I suspect.” Here he laughed at Stapleton. “Don’t like yer words thrown back at you, do you? I don’t know fer sure, but it makes sense. Too many girls gone missin’ with too few bodies showin’ up. It’s been going on a while, too. A bunch of birds went missin’ a few months ago, then nothin’. Now a bunch has disappeared again. The timing’s right.”
Stapleton nodded. “It would have given the slavers a chance to ship the women out. Nothing would happen again until close to their return. It would take too much money and security to keep the girls captive between voyages. I’ve done a great deal of checking and it does appear the timing is right. We’re learned that another dozen or so prostitutes have gone missing in the past week. If our suspicions are correct, it would seem the ship is already in port and ready for a return voyage.”
“Are you connected with these slavers, Rodgers?” asked Hal.
“Of course not,” said Rodgers. “But I do hear things.”
“Such as?” asked Hal.
Rodgers’s only response was to turn to Stapleton expectantly.
“Rodgers here says he’ll give us a name if we clear him of the burglary charges that he’s being held on.”
“And anythin’ else you might turn up in your investigation,” added Rodgers.
“So in other words, you’ve taken part in these crimes,” said Hal, fighting back the anger that surged up in him. Violence against woman was a truly heinous crime. To hear this man try to bargain his way out of prison when he was quite likely guilty in the matter was infuriating. He turned to Stapleton.
The Inspector appeared to want to get a confession out of Rodgers in a different way all together. But instead, he said “Give us proof that you know about the man in charge. Then I will see about getting your sentence reduced.”
“You’ll get the charges thrown out or you’ll have nothin’ more from me.”
“Proof, Rodgers. Something that shows me I’m not just wasting my time.”
Rodgers studied Stapleton, as if weighing his options. Finally, he spoke. “Check the harbor manifest for April the second. If’n I’m tellin’ the truth, you’ll notice something odd. But next time you come you’d better bring my pardon. You’re runnin’ out of time if you want to prevent that ship from getting’ away again.”
Stapleton looked like he wanted to do violence to the man, but instead he ushered Hal out of the room and back through the dank corridors until the air finally began to clear as they reached the entrance.
“What do you think the manifest will show?” asked Hal, once they were past the risk of being overheard.
“That a ship departed for points south, but the manifest will not match the cargo.” Stapleton stopped for a moment, as if considering whether to go back inside. “I should beat the information out of him.”
“I’d like to help,” said Hal.
“Unfortunately, a beaten man isn’t always truthful. And Rodgers would have to be beaten within an inch of his life if I even have a hope of making him talk.”
Hal was beginning to think he would like to help Stapleton do just that when they rounded the corner and almost collided with a man. The same one who’d become such a thorn in his side.
“Parker,” said Hal. “What the devil are you doing here? And what happened to your face?”
Parker raised a brow at the questioning. “I did not realize I needed your permission to move about London, Kellington. And the streets of this miserable city are rather unsafe.”
Hal wanted nothing more than to plant the insufferable man a facer. Instead, he introduced Stapleton. The Inspector was in such a foul mood that perhaps he’d take out his frustrations on Parker. One could only hope.
“What brings you to Newgate, Mr. Parker?” asked Stapleton. “It’s an odd choice for a tourist.”
“I came at the behest of church leaders back home. They’re concerned about the treatment of women in prisons. They thought I might get some information from the gaolers here.”
“About the only information you’ll get from them is how to abuse the women,” said Stapleton. “It is one of the worst parts of our prison system.”
“Nonetheless, I shall ask. Inspector, Kellington.” With that, Parker turned on his heel and resumed his walk to the prison.
“I don’t suppose you could throw the tosser in prison so he can get a taste of gaol from the inside, could you?” asked Hal.
“I’m afraid not. And I don’t sup
pose your dislike for the man has anything to do with your Miss Sutton, does it?”
“I swear, Stapleton, you’re as bad as my brothers,” said Hal. He looked across the muddy street and beckoned for his coachman to bring the carriage around. The streets were mired with traffic stuck in the muck, so there would likely be a delay. He decided to put the extra time to good use by telling Stapleton about his blackmail problems.
Stapleton’s face grew grimmer and grimmer. “You cannot pay him or the demands will never cease. Allow me to investigate and I’ll see the bastard thrown in prison.”
“Thank you, but while I would dearly love to see him or her thrown into the hell hole we just left, I’m afraid that would only make it more likely that the scoundrel would expose Melanie’s secrets.”
“You do realize that’s the likely outcome regardless, do you not?” asked Stapleton. At Hal’s grim nod, he continued. “You said ‘he’ or ‘she.’ Do you think Madame Thurmond is behind this?”
“I can’t rule it out, especially since the identification of Miss Sutton that night almost certainly came from the Madame. She could be inventing the existence of this master blackmailer just so I don’t take out my wrath on her and her establishment. But I think not. She seemed genuinely afraid of what this man could do to her.”
“Do you think the blackmail is connected to the slavers?”
Hal frowned. “I don’t see how it could be. The slavers don’t know who I am.”
“Everyone knows the Kellingtons, Hal. And I find the timing suspicious. What better way to divert you from solving the mystery of the disappearances than to throw a blackmail scheme at you. In addition, if the slavers did take Miss LaRue, they almost certainly know about your Miss Sutton and her work. Ruining a young woman socially would be nothing compared to the crimes they’ve committed. And it could be very lucrative. Find the blackmailer and I believe you’ll solve the disappearances.”
They were interrupted by bells clanging at the prison. Several guards came running out, looking up and down the street.
“What is it?” Stapleton asked one of them.
“A murder,” said the man. “And not jus’ a regular one. This bloke was to be a state’s witness in an important case.”
Stapleton and Hal looked at each other, then ran toward the prison.
* * *
It was just as they’d feared. They found Rodgers face down in his cell in a pool of his own blood, his throat having been cut from one ear to the other.
“Who else had access to him?” Stapleton asked a guard who looked completely unaffected by the sight.
The guard shrugged. “There’s a dozen coves in ‘ere, plus those who do for them with the meals and such. Coulda been any one of ‘em. But you won’t get none of ‘em to talk. The others would just slit their throats, too. None of ‘em like a rat. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”
“Thank you for that helpful insight,” said Stapleton dryly.
“My pleasure,” said the guard. “Do ye know who’ll get ‘is clothes? They was in pretty good shape. I just barely kep’ the others from stealin’ ‘em, but it wouldn’t do to let them go to waste.”
“How many guards had access to Rodgers?” asked Hal, ignoring the man’s question.
“Wot do you mean by that?” replied the guard belligerently.
Stapleton rose to his full height and stepped up to the insolent man. “Lord Henry asked whether anyone other than a prisoner had access to him. You and I both know it wouldn’t be unheard of for a guard to beat a prisoner and perhaps even kill him.”
The guard backed down fractionally. “Well,‘tweren’t no guard. Coulda been any one of a dozen coves wot been through here today. Coulda been that toff.”
“What toff?” asked Stapleton.
“He was in here after you left. Didn’t see what he was up to because I had to go knock some heads. But coulda been him just the same.”
“Was he American?” asked Hal.
“How am I supposed to know? It’s not like we had us a nice li’l coze now, was it?”
“I mighta ‘eard somethin’ about ‘im.”
They turned to see a virtual skeleton walking out of the shadows of a nearby cell. He looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in a year or more. His skin was sallow and sunken to his cheekbones. He continued, though it was a wonder he had the strength to speak. “It was a lord wot come through ‘ere. I seen ‘him when I left for me meeting with the magistrate. ‘Eard one of the prisoners say ‘is name was Charles Francis. Carried a walking stick I woulda killed for. In me old life, of course.”
“What did the walking stick look like?” asked Hal with a sense of dread.
“Gold knob on top wot looked like a snake. Must have a lot of blunt for somethin’ like that.”
Francis had that exact walking stick. Hal wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger: the urge to be sick or an all-encompassing rage to think his friend might be a murderer. Charles Francis’s walking stick was distinctive. He wouldn’t have thought his friend would be capable of any violent crime, let alone one that was this bloody, but all of the sudden, the pieces fell into place.
Francis’s purse was always full, yet his family was not known for its wealth. He was getting the blunt from somewhere and white slavery was definitely lucrative. In addition, he was certainly familiar with the prostitutes of London. Although, Hal had to admit, if such knowledge was truly damning, he might be a suspect himself. It would be easy for Francis to convince the girls to go away with him, allowing his associates to hold them until the next ship was ready to take them away. And if Stapleton’s theory were true, Francis would also be in the perfect position to blackmail him about Mel. The initial wager, after all, had been Francis’s idea.
He thought about the last several months of falling more and more into Francis’s sphere of influence. Had it all been a set-up leading to this?
Hal groaned aloud.
“What is it?” asked Stapleton.
“Francis knows about Mel’s activities. To get him off the blasted wager, I told him about her reform work.”
“So he probably knows when her next ship is ready to depart.”
Hal nodded. “If he’s really involved – and I’m not saying he is – he would be smart to time his next journey with the slavers to coincide with the departure of Captain Clinch’s upcoming voyage to America.”
“When will that be?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
* * *
“I can’t believe you didn’t take me with you!” Mel was pacing the sitting room floor of Mitchell House. “If you’d let me remain with Rodgers at the prison he might not be dead.”
“Let you….let you remain at the prison!” Hal was beside himself with shock. “I never would have taken you to the prison in the first place. I know this hasn’t occurred to you, but there are some places a lady should never venture. And surely Newgate prison is at the top of the list!”
Mel marched up to him, with hands on hips, eyes flashing. “It’s not your job to tell me where I can and cannot go.”
“Well, it certainly will be!” said Hal emphatically.
That rather startling statement was met with confusion by Mel. Anne either coughed or smothered a laugh.
Stapleton cleared his throat. “Where is Parker?”
“He’s been gone most of the day,” said Anne. “He did not say when he would return.”
“That’s another thing,” said Hal, turning to Stapleton and Anne. “What the devil was Parker doing at Newgate? Perhaps it is he we should suspect and not Francis.”
“You cannot think him guilty in this matter,” said Mel. “After all, you and Inspector Stapleton were at Newgate, as well as your friend Mr. Francis. I daresay that if simply being at Newgate makes one a suspect then you, my lord, are just as likely a one as Richard. After all, you live in London. He is only visiting.”
Before Hal could overreact once again, Stapleton stepped in. “That’s a very interesting point, Miss Sutton
.”
Mel blushed. “I did not mean to accuse you of wrongdoing, Inspector.”
“You only meant to accuse me of wrongdoing,” said Hal.
“I only wanted to point out the fault in your logic, my lord. So Inspector, please accept my apology.”
“What about apologizing to me?” asked Hal.
“Hal, feel free to resume your lovers’ quarrel when I leave,” said Stapleton. “But for now, let’s think about the very interesting point Miss Sutton raised. If there really are white slavers working in London, the man we’re looking for might be someone who is in London only on occasion. He might either sail with the ship, or move from country to country to escape detection.”
“Ha! So it is Parker,” said Hal with a look of triumph. He seemed to regret his lack of tact almost immediately, “Of course, Miss Sutton, I’m sure it must be troubling to learn your longtime friend is a ruthless criminal.”
“Hal, that’s only one theory,” continued Stapleton. “The mastermind could just as well be a Londoner, someone who has familiarity with London’s prostitutes.”
“So it is Lord Henry,” said Mel, with just the slightest smirk.
Stapleton turned to Hal with a grin. “Hold this one close. She’ll keep you on your toes.” He turned to Anne. “Mrs. Cartwright, has Mr. Parker given you any indication that he might be involved in illegal activity?”
Anne shook her head vehemently. “Not at all, Inspector. I’ve known men who seemed innocent as angels, who had the blackest of souls. However, Mr. Parker has never been anything other than kind. But I can’t help wondering…”
“Wondering what?” Stapleton gently prodded.
“I knew a man once, long ago. He told me a man could buy just about anything he wanted on the docks. You just needed to know where to look. He said he could make a person disappear.” Anne absent-mindedly touched the scars on her face. “He could make anything disappear with enough coin, even a ship.”
“It sounds like this man could change a registry,” said Stapleton. “Do you know where I can find him?”
“No,” said Anne quietly. She seemed to have gone pale from simply speaking about him. “But I may have something for you.” She unlocked the bottom drawer in the desk, then pulled out a box filled with papers. “At one point, I thought he might kill me. I kept this information in case anyone would look into my death.” She handed the papers to Inspector Stapleton, as if they burned her.
Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) Page 23
