A Cowardice of Crows

by S. E. Smith

  “And now?” Gold asked steadily.

  “I know differently.” McGregor’s embarrassment increased and he looked at the floor. “There are two distinct marks. One I found on both cufflinks, my watch chain and one of Morris’ feet. The other ...” he trailed into a silence that even CC couldn’t break.

  “Where else?” CC’s hands clenched into tight little fists, and while I knew he’d never hit the good doctor, it wasn’t a pleasant thing to see. I made to intervene, only to be interrupted.

  “It’s here, isn’t it? On my wrist,” Emily said before my cousin could lose his temper. She lifted her arm as she spoke, so the room could see the tattoo. McGregor wouldn’t meet her eye. “Yes.”

  CC spun around to face Emily. “I knew, for all your uncle's cleverness, I'd prove your involvement!” My cousin gloated loudly, and I got the feeling he would have done a little dance had it just been him and me. “Insinuating yourself into this investigation so you could blindside us.”

  “No.”

  CC froze.

  “I’m as innocent of this matter as you are.”

  “Liar.”

  Emily tilted her head. “Let’s examine this logically, CC.” Her gaze never wavered from my cousin, who folded his arms and gave her his fiercest stare in return. “If Uncle and I really were behind Millie’s murder, why would we draw attention to our involvement?”

  “Because you’re bloody devious.”

  Emily stared at the prominent vein on her hand and ignored him. “CC, you’re letting your desire to catch Uncle blind you. Come on, if Uncle ordered Millie’s death he’d never let me anywhere near the investigation. Not with you involved.”

  She let that sink in and turned her attention to McGregor. “Be honest, on its own, my letter wouldn’t have been enough for a thorough post-mortem, would it?”

  The doctor shook his head. “All the surface evidence pointed to suicide.”

  “What made you look down her throat?”

  He pulled a pink scrap of paper from his pocket: “This. I found it in her coat. It told me she should have a pair of cufflinks. When I couldn't find them on her person ...” he shrugged the rest of his story.

  Eyeing the pink receipt Gold frowned. “One of ours. We issue this when a pledge is redeemed, and had the cufflink not been so scandalous you’d have been at my door, Sir Charles.” Gold said without amusement.

  CC blew his nose.

  “So, when you didn’t come a knocking, and went off in the wrong direction, Millie’s killers had to do something more obvious.” Emily said.

  “I’m listening.”

  I let out the breath I didn’t know I held and watched my cousin’s face intently. But other than those two words there was no indication he believed her.

  “This time, they’re not subtle. The cufflink tells you the murders are connected. Uncle’s mark on one of Morris' feet connects him to the business yet again. The cat on the other involves me, and means you’ll warn your cousin off his friendship with me. But the icing on the cake; the one thing that’ll definitely have you sniffing at our door is the Yiddish portion of Millie's diary. A forgery, because as I told you, as anyone’ll tell you, Millie was rubbish at languages. Hell, she could barely read and write, witness her secret code skills.”

  “So, I’m at your doorstep,” CC conceded. “Go on.”

  “What would you learn?” Emily pressed.

  “Nothing,” CC snarled as Gold laughed gently. “Your uncle would see me. He would be charming. And, as he did just now, he’d laugh the diary off. Knowing I couldn’t do anything because your uncle never leaves proof of his activities. I’d go back to Scotland Yard with my suspicions and I’d call my cousin off the case, because even though I couldn’t prove it, I had my man.”

  “And in doing so you’d forget the cufflinks themselves!” Emily reminded us.

  A silence fell and it fell to McGregor to break it. “Are you telling us the Commons connection’s real?”

  “Emily was shot coming away from the Commons, Doctor McGregor. We’d be fools to discount it completely.” And at that moment, I became careless and blurted out something I’d promised Emily I wouldn’t. “We saw two people with links to Gold’s world: Cobarde and Cardew.”

  “Cardew wouldn’t do anything to attack Uncle,” Emily interrupted to cover my stupidity. “You saw how scared he was when he realised who I was.”

  I risked looking at the pawnbroker and wished I hadn’t. His eyes, furious pools of understanding, demanded retribution of the direst kind.

  “But Cobarde’s only recently come to London,” my cousin stated. “He only admitted his connection to Miss Davies’ world because she was with you.” CC’s face wore his checkmate-in-three expression.

  As Emily knocked a metaphorical pawn off the board. “And no further forward.”

  “Removing Emily and myself as chief suspects, there are three suspects from your precious House of Commons: Cardew, Cobarde and Fairbrass.” Gold said quietly. “Cardew’s a fool. He knows too well what happens to people who cross me. As does Cobarde; so much so, he tries to hide his past. Which leaves the MP.” The pawnbroker tipped his head towards my cousin. “Well, Sir Charles? What d’you know about Fairbrass?”

  CC spluttered but answered readily enough. “Married to a younger woman; he has family in Essex and three children from an earlier marriage. The two girls are happily married. The son – much younger than the sisters – is currently up at Oxford.”

  As Gold opened his mouth, presumably to ask a question, CC rushed on. “No gambling debts to speak of; no visits to seedy establishments for threesomes and the like; no mistress in the wings. Either this MP’s very adept at hiding his crimes – which trust me, none of them are – or Fairbrass leads a blameless life.” CC arms widened expansively as he laboured his theme.

  A scorpion nudged me away from CC’s recounting; advised me to watch the pawnbroker. So, I did and wondered why I listened to that useless beast. Gold’s whole body exuded amusement. His shoulders shook; he was really enjoying himself.

  “Not wanting to pour water on your fire, Sir Charles,” he said, “I think you should know that I showed a picture of Fairbrass to my staff. They didn’t recognise him. I also asked about Cobarde. No one’s seen him since he left the Impereye. If this is Fairbrass’ cufflink, neither the MP, nor his latest secretary, did the pawning.” He picked up a slice of cake and took a bite.

  “Could’ve been pawned years ago and kept,” Jethro muttered into the silence.

  “Not by us, Jethro,” Figg stated from the shadows. “We stopped taking them when Miss Emily became apprentice. I should know, I’d have handled them.”

  Jethro looked like he wanted to argue, but the opportunity was lost as his boss moved to the centre of the stage.

  Finishing his mouthful, Gold put his plate on the side table and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “First of all, I should like to thank Sir Charles for sharing the Leeds addresses his team uncovered.” Gold smiled at my cousin who glowered an unhappy response.

  “Millie’s family is complicated,” the pawnbroker continued, “but I have contacts in Leeds and they’ve been very obliging, doing our legwork for us so that you can work more efficiently when you’re there. Clara, Millie’s sister, lives on the opposite side of town to Algernon’s second family. Algernon visits his sister once a month. The favour’s never returned. Neighbours report Algernon’s a devoted family man – his children well brought up and helpful. His wife, Mary’s a delicate blond, as different to Amy as you and me, Sir Charles.”

  CC’s dislike of Gold's comparison was obvious – from the unnatural set of his shoulders and the clenching of his fists.

  “As for the sister’s family: Clara is, by all accounts, subdued and the husband, fat and far too ready with his fists for the neighbour’s liking. Heavy is his tipple of choice. And after a few, he becomes a veritable demon.” Emily shivered slightly, and Gold gave her a reassuring smile. “Fortunately, the bastard is rarely home
. So, you may visit safely, son. Cobarde’s never visited Clara, which I find strange given how close he was to the husband for a time.”

  At a discrete signal from me, Sampson began to clear plates. Niall cottoning on to the activity quicker than most, snaffled the last slice of cake from under Doctor McGregor’s nose and chuckled like a naughty child. Figg, gave a small howl at the unfairness of it all, before glowering at Emily. Immediately she intervened, cutting the slice in half. Niall’s howl of protest joined that of his comrade and they both glared at the young woman.

  I dragged my attention to my cousin. In the intervening moments, Gold had risen from his seat and moved over to where CC stared morosely at his handkerchief.

  “Unfortunately, I agree, with you, Mr Gold,” CC said as the older man, two glasses of vodka in hand, reached him. “Which makes it another first in our relationship.”

  “Please, call me Mordy,” Gold offered with only a hint of sarcasm. He held out the second glass.

  CC shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.” He said but he took the glass anyway holding it with obvious disdain.

  I wanted to laugh, hysterically but didn’t dare.

  Gold finished his vodka and surveyed the room. “Is there anything else we need to consider Emily? Son? No? Then I shall love you and leave you.”

  Gold’s henchmen and the doctor began to gather their bits together. Talk turned to lighter things – the weather; association football, the upcoming Christmas festivities.

  “Yes, there is.” CC didn’t raise his voice, but it carried; silencing the murmurs and ensuring Gold’s staff and Doctor McGregor resumed their seats.

  “What, cousin?”

  CC gave his best crocodile smile. “The matter of the man who shot at Symington, and your niece.” The crocodile became more prominent. “I wonder: do you have a name for me yet?”

  Gold shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, no.” He glanced at me. “Thanks to tonight, I have a new line of inquiry. Trust me, I will find him, Chief Inspector. And when I do lay hands on him; he’s all yours.”

  “I do hope so.” CC’s sarcasm was obvious.

  “You have my word.”

  With business concluded, the room cleared quickly.

  Niall and Jethro went first, saluting me and my cousin as they went. Gold hugged Nanny briefly before going out of his way to shake the hands of CC, McGregor, Sampson and Watkins, whose scandalised expressions had Nanny hiding her amusement beneath furious eyebrows.

  Turning to me, he kissed me on both cheeks. “Thank you for letting me be a little part of this world.” Gold held on to my hand as he spoke. “It’s been a most instructive way of doing business. Will not work for me – you understand, but I feel I have learned.”

  I saw his eyes rest on the table where the Brownie box camera and the fingerprint kit still sat. “Not as much as you perhaps. It’s rare for all my entourage to be together in the one room – and you would be a fool not to take advantage of such things. Of course, it won’t help you. I never leave anything to chance.” He kissed my cheek again and then moved on to his obviously exhausted niece.

  “Emily, remember this lifestyle is temporary.” Gold pulled the young woman into a bear-like hug and held on to her for a few moments. He stared intently into her face – as if etching every contour into his memory. “I miss you and need you home.”

  With the pawnbroker gone, Emily collapsed into the nearest chair.

  “Get her a drink, Sergeant. Immediately.”

  “Don’t fuss, Sym, the shoulder twinges a little. That’s all,”

  “You want me to look at it?” McGregor offered.

  “No, it’s fine. I just need to take one of Nanny's powders. Mr Sampson, I wouldn’t normally impose, but would you be so good?”

  “I won’t be more than a moment.” He put a brandy on the table next to her and headed into the bedroom.

  “Thank you.” Emily closed her eyes and appeared to be sleeping.

  CC poured himself and the doctor a drink. McGregor took it but it was obvious he did so reluctantly. I was about to ask why when Sampson returned all contrition and apologies.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor McGregor, I forgot to mention it when you arrived. I took the liberty of making up one of the guest rooms on my floor, for you to use. I had a feeling this meeting would go on past last trains.” He poured Emily’s powders into a glass as he spoke and used a swizzle stick to mix them thoroughly. “I’m very sorry, Major. I should have said.”

  I waved majestically from the window and carried on watching Figg – most assiduous in his care of Gold, until the moment a freak gust of wind caught the taxi door and it slammed into position.

  “No, you don’t, Miss Emily. You heard Nanny's instructions. All of it,” Sampson chided in his best bedside manner.

  “Bully!” Emily screwed up her face but dutifully finished the glass “Done. Now will you let me be?”

  “He will.” Nanny said from the corner. “But I won’t. Bed, Miss Emily. Hurry up.”

  At the doorway, Emily stopped and surveyed the room. “Goodnight gentlemen. It’s been a most instructive evening, and like Uncle, I’ve learned much.”

  “I’ll confirm the arrangements with the Leeds hotel in the morning,” Sampson stated as t the bedroom door closed behind her. “Unless there’s anything else you require, I’ll finish tidying the breakfast room and retire.”

  “No, thank you. As always, you excel yourself.” Sampson permitted himself a small smile. “You and Watkins toddle to bed. We’re old enough to look after ourselves. It’s been a long day, William. One of us’ll point McGregor in the right direction, when he’s ready to turn in. And leave the breakfast room till morning. I’m sure we’ll be able to survive a few more hours of chaos.”

  From the Casebook of Symington, Earl Byrd.

  Sunday, 25th November.

  The journey to Leeds, on the last train of the evening, was uneventful and enjoyable.

  Dinner in the Pullman coach, under the disapproving eyes of those who I felt pretty sure knew Grandfather, was excellent, and Emily played her part to perfection.

  Fine wine followed champagne and this, along with carefully choreographed flirtation, created the impression of a man infatuated by his young ladybird; and a girl who was well and truly on the road to ruin.

  By the time we arrived in Leeds and hailed a taxi, my very tipsy companion was hanging on my every word showing off a tantalising glimpse of heaving bosom with every wobbly step she took. Onlookers at Leeds station could be left in no doubt what the outcome of our evening would entail, especially if our kiss was anything to go by.

  Of course, had they seen us enter the hotel, followed by a very proper valet and a little old lady – who fluttered like a butterfly in a myriad of shawls – they would have been confused. The young lady gave no indication of drunkenness; me no sign of flirtation.

  Tuesday, 27th November.

  “No offence Sym, you can’t come with me. You’re not exactly inconspicuous!” We were sitting in the lounge area of our suite, a tastefully decorated affair with three bedrooms and an extensive view of the city. It was a delight. Usually, I stayed at Harewood with the Earl and Countess, but as this was a business trip, I felt, given the nature of my business that I couldn’t impose.

  “We haven’t exactly gone out of our way to be anything other than conspicuous, Emily.” I put down my Times and grinned lecherously.

  “Touché, darling!” she drawled in a passable impression of Lily Langtry. “Touché.”

  I laughed. “Does your uncle know Conan Doyle, Emily?”

  “Uncle knows many people, Sym,” she replied dryly. “But if it’ll help set your mind at rest, I don’t intend replacing Mrs Keppel as the Prince of Wales’ mistress.” Her eyes sparkled with an unholy delight. “Far, far from it! I ain’t his type.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He doesn't always have a type. But I get what you mean. You’d be too tough a nut to crack. He likes a chase, but not too much of one
.”

  Her glower made me change the subject back to my suit. “I don’t see why I can’t wear this. It’s a very bourgeois outfit.”

  Emily snorted. “Yeah, right, an’ I’m Queen bloody Victoria.”

  “You’re too young, and besides,” I teased “You look splendid in black!” When there was no corresponding laugh, I glanced up in time to find Emily locked in sad little world; staring at her long tapering fingers and the prominent vein on her right hand.

  To diffuse a situation I didn’t understand, I made a pantomime of staring at my suit and appearing hurt.

  Black. Conservative. Well made. Leader’s apprentice did a phenomenal job in creating my third-best outfit. And then I saw what Emily was wearing and realised what she meant. Her dull bombazine dress was positively dowdy; and her hat, while indeed a fine creation, was quite a few years behind current fashion.

  Serena would never be seen dead wearing it. But then Serena never thought about putting anyone at ease. She wore what she wanted and to hell with the consequences. And as for bothering to help with an investigation ...?

  With a shake of the head to dismiss my neglected lover, I moved over to Emily and took her hands. “You can’t go alone. Leyland’s rough,” I said gruffly.

  “No rougher than Spitalfields, and I wander around there without a chaperone.” She extricated her hands from mine and began putting on her gloves.

  “Emily. You know damn well what I mean. In the East End – no one would dare harm you. They fear Mr. Gold too much. Here you don’t have that protection. And I have too much respect for you, and him, to let you go alone.”

  Emily nodded and, for a moment, I really thought I won that battle. Until she smiled and stared at me in a pitying kind of way. “I am more than capable of looking after myself, my lord. I have my revolver after all.” She patted her handbag.

  “I appreciate that, Miss Davies,” I replied with equal formality. “But a gun’s only as good as the person who fires first. After the events of the last few weeks, even you should know that.”