by C. J. Archer
"You learned something?" Matt asked Duke.
Duke nodded. "Cyclops and me followed Pelham when he left here an hour ago." He checked his watch then slipped it back inside his waistcoat pocket. "We followed him to one of the suspects' homes. Cyclops went back to Park Street to report to you, and I followed Pelham back here. I saw your brougham." He grinned. "Cyclops'll curse me when he finds out he had a wasted trip."
"Don't keep us in suspense," I said. "Where did Pelham go?"
"To Sweeney's."
I looked to Matt. He smiled back at me. "That's it," he said. "That's the link we were missing. They know each other."
"You say Pelham went to Sweeney's home, not his office?" I asked.
Duke nodded. "I saw Sweeney answer the door and let him in."
"It's a working day, and he's not at his place of work or the guild hall. Interesting."
Matt nodded slowly, thinking. "Pelham's appointment to the Gazette may have nothing to do with Delancey. He could have applied for the position off his own bat, at Sweeney's urging."
"Let's ask him." I turned and walked quickly down the alley.
"Thanks, Duke," Matt said. "You may as well go home. You're no longer needed here."
Matt caught up to me at the Gazette's door. We greeted the man at the reception desk and asked to see Mr. Pelham.
"He's not receiving visitors unless they have an appointment," he said.
"Then tell Oscar Barratt we wish to see him again," Matt said.
The man looked dubious but went to fetch Oscar anyway. He returned a moment later with both Oscar and Mr. Pelham.
"What do you want with my journalist?" Mr. Pelham snapped. "He's busy."
"It's you we wish to see," Matt said. "We know you've just come from Patrick Sweeney's home. Can you tell us why you visited him there?"
Mr. Pelham glanced out the window. Fortunately Duke had gone. "That's none of your business, Glass."
"It is when Sweeney is a murderer."
Mr. Pelham blinked hard. "You think he killed my predecessor? For God's sake, don't be absurd."
"Not only do we think he killed him, the police do too. They're on their way to arrest him now. When we tell Detective Inspector Brockwell that Sweeney is known to you, he'll come to the same conclusion we did—that you and Sweeney conspired to kill Baggley so you could take his place."
"What?" Mr. Pelham exploded. "No! I had nothing to do with the murder! Patrick came to me and suggested I apply for the position, that's all."
"Was that before or after the murder?" I asked.
"Well, he, er…" Mr. Pelham swallowed. "He first mentioned it before the murder, but that doesn't mean I had anything to do with it." For a big man, his voice had become remarkably high pitched. "You must believe me. I had nothing to do with Baggley's murder. I'm innocent. Ask Sweeney, he'll tell you."
I smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Pelham. We'll do that."
Matt stopped me before I exited. "You're going home," he whispered in my ear. "I'll take a hack to the police station."
"Why can't I come to the police station with you and then go home?"
"Because…" He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's both go. But neither of us is going with Brockwell to arrest Sweeney. His men—"
The door crashed back and Sweeney strode through, a gun pointed at us. "Don't move!"
Matt stepped in front of me before I could react. "Don't shoot. You don't want more deaths on your conscience."
"One death, two, three… What does it matter?" Sweeney's voice shook. "I'm going to hang for murder, anyway. Aren't I?"
In my mind's eye, I undid Matt's waistcoat buttons and fished out his watch. I'd saved his life before when he was in danger of bleeding to death. If Sweeney's shot didn't kill him instantly, I could do so again.
If…
"Oh God," I whispered.
Matt half turned then froze on Sweeney's barked order. "Don't move or I'll shoot."
"What do you want?" Oscar said. "Are you going to shoot everyone? What will that achieve?"
"A measure of satisfaction," Sweeney's voice shook even more.
I peeked past Matt and saw that Sweeney was crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. He reminded me of Mr. Hendry, a lonely, miserable figure forced to live his life in hiding because he loved men. Unlike Sweeney, however, Hendry had a chance of shaking off his misery when this was all over and finding happiness, because he had accepted who he was.
Mr. Sweeney couldn't accept it. Even if he had never committed the murder, he could never be happy because he wanted to bury that part of himself. Mr. Hendry was right—Patrick Sweeney despised himself.
"We made a promise to Mr. Hendry today," I told him.
"Stop talking," he snapped. "Don't mention that name to me."
"You'll want to hear what I have to say," I said.
"India," Matt warned.
"Mr. Sweeney," I said, "if you don't let me tell you what we promised him, your good name will be ruined." His reputation was all he had left now. He may not have a future, but he still cared how he would be remembered. In his eyes, being a murderer was not the worst thing he could be.
He understood me. His gaze flicked to Oscar and Pelham. "You two, leave," he said. "No one is to disturb us or I shoot Mr. Glass."
Pelham opened the door to the office and hurried out. Oscar hesitated before following him.
"I'm listening, Miss Steele," Mr. Sweeney said. "Tell me about the promise you made to…that creature."
"First of all, you need to tell us how you knew we were here."
"Because he told me. That nasty little snake sent me a message to say he was no longer going to protect me and that he knew what I'd done. He told me you knew too."
"You tried to blame him for the murder," I said. "After everything you two—"
"Stop!" He aimed the gun at me.
Matt pushed me back behind again. "You truly hate him, don't you?" Matt asked.
"More than you can ever know. He ruined my life! He ruined me! Killing him wouldn't be enough; I had to ruin him too." I could no longer see his face but I could hear the sneer in his voice. "Two birds, one stone, Mr. Glass. I remove Baggley, replace him with my friend, Pelham, who won't stand for Barratt's nonsense, and I lay the blame at Hendry's door. I knew he'd sent those letters to Barratt, and I knew it was only a matter of time before someone traced the paper to him. I also knew he'd been here, asking after Barratt that day. If everyone assumed Barratt was the intended victim, my plan would work."
"You placed the gun in Mr. Hendry's shop, just to make sure," I said, stepping out from Matt's shadow.
"Correct, Miss Steele."
"And in case your plan didn't work, you went about destroying Hendry financially. You spoke with his bank and creditors. You bought a stake in his rival's company."
His grin was macabre. "He won't swing for the murder, but he'll never come back from this."
"You destroyed his spirit, Mr. Sweeney. Your rejection and betrayal are what buried him, not his financial problems."
His lips stretched thin. "I hope he stays buried. Now, if you don't mind, I have unfinished business." He aimed the gun at Matt's chest.
"No!" I screamed, trying to push Matt out of the way but failing. "I told you, if you kill anyone today, your reputation will be destroyed. Everyone will know about your relationship with Mr. Hendry."
He glanced quickly at the door through which Oscar and Pelham had exited. "Keep your voice down."
"Stay calm," Matt said, eyeing the gun and grasping me tightly, preparing to push me out of harm's way. "Listen to what India has to say."
He would not be fast enough if the gun went off. We couldn't both be saved.
I felt sick but pushed on. "We promised Mr. Hendry we would keep his name out of this investigation," I said, my voice trembling. "There's enough evidence from Mr. Pelham to convict you without Mr. Hendry getting involved. But the police don't know that yet. Brockwell's only evidence is what Mr. Hendry has tol
d him about the gun and…and your relationship."
Mr. Sweeney's nostrils flared. He flexed his grip around the gun handle but he let me continue.
"Brockwell knows you set up Mr. Hendry to take the blame for the murder because you're upset over the…private affairs you two conducted. If you kill someone here today, those affairs will come to light at your trial. Everyone will know. Is that what you want?"
"What do you think?"
"If you let us go," I said with as much levelness as I could muster, "we'll keep our promise to Mr. Hendry—and to you. No one will ever find out."
"The detective is an acquaintance," Matt said. "He'll co-operate. You have my word as a gentleman that your relationship with Hendry will remain a secret." He inched forward. "Hand me the weapon. This is over."
Mr. Sweeney flexed his grip again and swallowed hard. His hands began to shake. I eyed the gun. How sensitive was the trigger?
Matt took another small step. I grasped his sleeve in an attempt to halt him. "No," I whispered.
He stretched out his hand, palm up. "The gun please, Mr. Sweeney."
The door through which Pelham and Oscar had exited opened a fraction. With a yelp, Mr. Sweeney swung toward it.
The gun went off.
Chapter 16
Mr. Pelham, peering through the open doorway, swore loudly. Mr. Sweeney stared at him, his face white, his hands shaking violently.
Matt lunged and snatched the gun off him. "Is everyone all right?" he asked without taking his gaze off Mr. Sweeney.
"Fine," Mr. Pelham said. "The bullet missed."
I closed my eyes and pressed a hand to my stomach. Fingers grasped my shoulder and squeezed. When I opened my eyes, I saw that it was Oscar. Matt was giving orders, directing Mr. Pelham to find something to use to tie Mr. Sweeney up.
"Are you all right, India?" Oscar asked.
I nodded. "A little shaken. You?"
"Unharmed and grateful." He looked to Mr. Sweeney. "Did he admit that I was the intended target?"
"Baggley was. Sweeney wanted Baggley gone so he could replace him with Pelham and stop the articles. Killing you wouldn't have been enough. Baggley would have found another journalist to write them instead."
"Nice to know I'm replaceable," he muttered.
"At least this way, the Gazette could no longer be your mouthpiece. It wouldn't surprise me if other editors in the city were given incentives by Sweeney, and perhaps Mr. Delancey too, to ignore you if you approached them."
"That explains a lot. But why?"
"Money and revenge. After a falling out with Hendry, the paper magician, Sweeney invested in a rival business. He hoped that stopping the articles would see the end of the rise of magicians like Hendry, while also making it look as if Hendry were to blame for the murder. He also used his influence to cause Hendry financial problems."
"They must have fallen out over something serious for there to be so much hatred between them. Not even my brother and I would hurt one another on such a scale."
I almost told him he had gravely hurt his brother through the articles but bit my tongue. I didn't want to get involved in his family squabble.
Pelham returned with some rope and tied Sweeney's hands behind his back.
Matt removed the remaining bullets from the gun and pocketed them. "I'll deliver him to Scotland Yard and speak to Brockwell. India, take a cab home."
"You can't go alone," I said.
"I'll go with him," Oscar said.
Matt touched his thumb to my cheek and met my gaze. "Will you be all right to return home alone?"
I gave him a wry smile. "Of course. I'm not a delicate flower, Matt. This was nothing compared to the last time someone wielded a gun in my presence."
"You're the most composed woman I know when it comes to facing danger." He kissed my forehead. "I'll see you soon."
I spent much of the evening taking my watch apart and putting it back together. It hadn't chimed when Sweeney aimed the gun at me. My old watch would have. Perhaps I simply needed to work on the new one more. I tuned out Matt and the others, as they discussed plans for our future, until one by one they retired for the evening, leaving only Matt and me alone in the sitting room.
He sat in silence as I replaced the final pieces and closed the watch housing. I looked up to see him looking at me.
"Sorry," I said. "I've ignored you all evening."
He crouched in front me and closed his hand over mine. "You're upset about today's events."
"It didn't chime." I indicated the watch.
"It probably will after tonight. You've been working on it for hours."
"That long? Sorry, I lost track of time."
His mouth kicked up on one side. "That's a first." He placed both hands on the chair arms, trapping me, and rose to kiss me. "Are you also worried about leaving?"
I couldn't lie to his face so looked away then nodded. Not that it was entirely a lie. I was worried, though not about our departure. I was worried that I wouldn't find a moment to get away to speak with Lord Cox. I was worried that he wouldn't listen to me. I was worried that my information wouldn't be enough to convince him. So many things could go wrong.
We were leaving in two days’ time unless I could convince Lord Cox to marry Patience.
"Aunt Beatrice sent word that she's coming tomorrow morning to speak with me about the wedding preparations," Matt said heavily. "Patience is also coming. I have to go along with it, but it'll be the last time. I'm sorry to put you through it. I'm sorry to put her through it too, when I know the wedding won't go ahead."
I cupped his face in my hands and stroked his cheeks, hoping to stroke away the anguish. "I'll go for a walk when they come. Matt, are you sure you don't want to ask Coyle what he knows about Cox?"
"Definitely not. Being beholden to Coyle is too big a price to pay. I don't trust him." He took one of my hands and kissed the wrist. "When you get home tomorrow from your walk, you'd better start packing. Time's running out."
I allowed him to escort me to my room and kiss me goodnight. It wasn't until I lay in bed and thought it through that I knew I'd done the right thing in not telling Matt my real plans for the morning. He wouldn't let me use Coyle's information against Cox.
But I couldn't let Matt carry the burden of hurting his cousin. It would eat at him forever, and he didn't deserve that guilt. Neither of us did. And, of course, we couldn't move far from Gabe and his medical magic.
Lord Coyle had given me Lord Cox's London address. Thankfully, the townhouse was only a ten minute walk from Park Street, because the day had begun wet and, from the endlessly gray sky, it didn't look like it would dry up soon.
It was also a blessing to find Lord Cox at home. He met me in the drawing room, where the footman had bade me to sit and wait.
"My name is India Steele," I said. "I am Matthew Glass's assistant."
"You're the woman he wants to marry." Lord Cox had not taken a seat and, with his hands clasped behind his back, he possessed all the bearing of a man born to wealth and privilege.
"He told you?" I said.
"He did when he explained why he didn't want to marry his cousin. I see from the announcement that the wedding is going ahead, after all. I am sorry for you, Miss Steele, but I don't see what this has to do with me, anymore."
"Patience is a lovely person," I began. "She's kind, modest, and would make an excellent mother and wife. Any man ought to be pleased to marry her."
"You are not fully aware of the situation, Miss Steele, so kindly don't ask me what I think you're going to ask me."
"I am aware of it. I know everything. Please understand, sir, that Patience regrets what happened in her past. She was young and did something foolish, and she has been punished by her family for it in the most cruel way."
His brow creased momentarily then cleared. "It doesn't matter if she regrets it. It happened. A man in my position cannot risk news of it getting out. My reputation is everything to me."
In that case, I h
ad him on my hook. Now I just needed to reel him in. I smiled a slow, easy smile. "It is of paramount importance to you, isn't it? Your reputation, I mean. It would be a terrible shame if an even bigger secret should come to light and taint that reputation you've so carefully cultivated."
He stilled. For a moment, I thought he'd explode in anger. But this wasn't a man used to revealing such a base emotion. He'd spent his entire life suppressing strong feelings, and he wasn't about to let them rise to the surface now. "What is this about? Why have you come here?"
I was relieved to get to the point so quickly. Drawing this meeting out would have been painful. "You may wish to shut the door and make sure no servants are listening."
He cocked his head to the side and regarded me with a severe frown before shutting the door. "Go on," he barked.
"Before your father married your mother, he had another wife."
"I beg your pardon! This is outrageous!"
"It is, I agree. But it's not a lie. Please, hear the rest of what I have to say. It's in your best interests that you know precisely how much I know."
"What you think you know."
"Everything I am telling you is the truth." Dear lord, I hoped it was. "They married in secret, without anyone but God and the necessary witnesses—strangers—knowing. Your father's first wife was still alive when he married your mother." He protested again, but I continued over the top of him. "She was a governess, and poor, whereas your mother was a woman more worthy of the title Lady Cox. The governess gave birth to a son before you were born. He is the legitimate heir to the Cox title and estate, because his parents' marriage was legitimate. You are not. Your parents' marriage is not legal. You should not have inherited."
"You have no proof."
The breath left my body. It was as good as an admission that Lord Coyle's information was correct and that Cox knew about his half-brother. "The parish records in which the first marriage took place are readily available, if anyone knew to look, as are birth and death records." It was a logical assumption and a safe bet.
