Chapter 23
The following morning as Tilda and her grandmother prepared to attend service at St. Marylebone, Teague arrived. Tilda had just descended the stairs and heard him speaking to Vaughn in the entrance hall. As she walked in, the detective inspector removed his hat. His expression was grim.
“Has something happened?” Tilda asked with alarm.
Last night at the Albion, they’d questioned everyone they could find, including the proprietor and the treasurer.
The two had confirmed Mobray’s employment and provided a photograph of the actor which Wycombe had used to create the handbill.
Constables had worked through the night posting them all over, particularly near the Strand and theatres throughout London.
“The Redmaynes received another ransom note this morning. I’d like us to meet at Scotland Yard to discuss. I’ve sent Sergeant Wycombe to fetch his lordship.”
Tilda’s grandmother arrived in the entrance hall, and Teague bid her good morning. “Good morning, Detective Inspector, though I’m not sure you look as though you truly think it’s ‘good.’” She turned her attention to Tilda. “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to church alone again?”
“I’m sorry, Grandmama. There’s been an urgent development in the case. If someone’s life wasn’t in danger, I would accompany you to the service.”
Her grandmother’s eyes rounded. “You must go, dear. I understand. Please take good care.”
“Can we at least drop you off at the church?” Teague offered with a smile. “I’ve asked the cab to wait, and it’s no trouble at all.”
“Thank you, Detective Inspector,” Tilda’s grandmother replied with a grateful smile. “You are most kind.”
Tilda escorted her grandmother outside as Vaughn held the door. Teague assisted her into the cab and directed the driver to St. Marylebone. Tilda sat beside her grandmother, then Teague joined them.
“Are you close to solving the case?” Tilda’s grandmother asked.
“Not as close as I’d like,” Teague replied.
“We’re making progress.” Tilda sent Teague an encouraging smile. “Those handbills will likely generate some leads to finding Mobray.”
Teague crossed his arms. “We’ve had several people come to Scotland Yard already, but none of them have provided anything useful. They’re just interested in collecting Ravenhurst’s hundred pounds.”
Tilda’s grandmother’s brow puckered. “Why would they get Ravenhurst’s money?”
Tilda explained the reward.
“I’m not at all surprised to hear of his generosity.” She smiled widely at Tilda.
As they neared the church, Tilda’s grandmother asked when she could expect Tilda home. Tilda arched a brow at Teague. He shrugged almost imperceptibly to communicate that he couldn’t say.
“I won’t be late, Grandmama. Will you walk home with Mr. Lambert?” He was their neighbor, and when Tilda didn’t attend church with her grandmother, they typically walked to the church and back together.
“Oh, yes, don’t worry about me.” Grandmama patted Tilda’s hand. “You go and save this young lady. She’s counting on you.” She gave Tilda a confident nod as the coach stopped.
Teague stepped out and helped Tilda’s grandmother to the pavement. They were soon on their way to Scotland Yard.
Tilda tried not to think of what her grandmother had said—that Florence Redmayne was counting on her. Delia Chadwick had been too, and Tilda had utterly failed her.
She would not let that happen again.
“Your grandmother doesn’t worry about you in your chosen career?” Teague asked with a curious glint in his dark gaze.
“Not overmuch. She doesn’t particularly like when I go out at night. Or alone.”
“Does that ever happen?” Teague gestured toward her. “Going out alone, I mean. Seems to me, you’re always in Ravenhurst’s company.”
“Usually.”
Teague smirked. “Do you have plans to employ him? I’ve heard he could use the funds.”
Tilda knew Teague was being sarcastic and smiled. “Hadrian gives his time and expertise free of charge, which is quite noble.” Too late, she realized she’d used his Christian name, though Teague hadn’t seemed to notice.
“He is most principled,” Teague said. “I confess, I’ve been surprised that he continues to work with you, particularly when he went to the City with you for that case several weeks ago. I would think his other commitments would prevent such…dedication.”
Teague glanced out the window, and Tilda couldn’t tell if he was merely being conversational or if he had genuine curiosity about the time they spent together. In truth, Tilda often wondered herself if other parts of Hadrian’s life were suffering because of their investigations.
“He probably keeps up with everything,” Teague mused without waiting for her to respond, which gave her the impression he was simply conversing. “That may explain his recent exhaustion. He seems to have a bit of trouble staying upright of late.” He said this with a smile.
“Yes, he works hard,” Tilda murmured. “And he has the occasional migraine.”
“I was sorry to hear that. I hope they’re not too troublesome.”
Eager to not only change the topic but to hear about the latest note, Tilda asked, “How did you learn about the ransom note this morning?”
“The Redmaynes brought it to us. Rather, Mrs. Redmayne did, and her husband accompanied her—reluctantly. She’s adamant that the Met remain involved, and I’m glad.
” His brow darkened, and his expression looked more like it had when he’d first arrived at Tilda’s grandmother’s.
“The note was horrible. It was nothing like the others.”
Tilda was surprised to hear that. “That’s odd, as is the timing of the delivery today. In the other two kidnapping instances, the notes arrived on the second day after the women were taken. Today is only the first.”
Teague nodded. “I noticed the same thing. I immediately wondered if it had been written by someone else, but I compared it to the other notes, and the handwriting matches.”
“How was it different from the others?”
“I didn’t bring it, as I wanted to keep it locked in my evidence drawer, but you can review it when we arrive at Scotland Yard. It was very explicit with threats to Miss Redmayne if the ransom is not delivered tonight at Cremorne Gardens.”
Pleasure gardens? “Why such a public place?”
“I agree that it’s strange,” Teague said. “Redmayne is to leave the ransom in a small bag beneath a specific bench along a path leading toward the river from the main performance area. The bench will be marked with a red ribbon tied around one leg.”
“Do you have a plan to deliver the ransom and catch Mobray?”
Teague stroked his knuckles along his jaw. “The start of one, but that’s why I want everyone to gather in my office. We need a thorough scheme, and we need plenty of people on hand.”
Did he expect Tilda and Hadrian to participate? She couldn’t imagine Teague’s superiors would endorse that, even if they weren’t compensated. And the Met hadn’t yet paid Tilda for her work as the City of London Police had.
“I’m surprised you’re including us,” Tilda said. “I appreciate it.”
Teague met her gaze with a flash of sympathy. “I know what it’s like to feel as if you’ve failed. Let me tell you, however, that you have not. I also understand your need to see this to the end.”
“Thank you,” Tilda replied softly. Teague was a believer in justice and truth, much like her father had been. “You and my father would have got on well, you know.”
“It’s my privilege to work with his daughter. However, I can’t officially work with you on this,” he said carefully. “I’m sure you understand what I’m saying.”
“Of course. You can’t pay me.” She chuckled. “I know you would if you could. Furthermore, my presence is likely not appreciated by many in the Met.”
“Something I hope they’re able to overcome someday,” Teague grumbled.
They arrived at Scotland Yard and entered Teague’s office just after Hadrian and Wycombe. Hadrian stood near one of the chairs and met Tilda’s eyes with a smile that didn’t lift his lips.
How could she know he was smiling at her when his mouth didn’t move? She just did. They shared a private communication now, and she wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. Not that it mattered, for the connection made her happier than she could have imagined.
Tilda moved toward him as Teague went to his desk and opened the evidence drawer.
“This was delivered to the Redmaynes’ this morning just before nine o’clock.
Someone knocked and when the butler opened the door, the note was sitting just over the threshold beneath a small rock, which was likely meant to be a paperweight. ”
“No one saw who delivered it?” Tilda asked.
“The butler reported seeing an errand boy dashing off, but that is all,” Teague replied with a slight frown. “Not terribly helpful.” He held the note up to read it.
Redmayne,
It’s time to pay. Deliver twenty thousand pounds in bank notes in a bag to Cremorne Gardens tonight before eight o’clock.
Leave the bag beneath a bench on a path leading from the performance area to the river.
The bench will be marked with a red ribbon tied around one leg.
Do NOT solicit help. I will know, and I will hurt your daughter far worse than Miss Chadwick. She will be unrecognizable in death.
Spring-heeled Jack
Tilda shivered. “That is chilling, and not at all like the tone of the other notes. You say they were written by the same hand?”
“Come see for yourself.” Teague cleared a space on top of his desk and set the note he’d been reading down. He then placed the others from the evidence drawer beside it.
Tilda, Hadrian, and Wycombe gathered around the desk to inspect the notes. “The handwriting appears to be the same,” Wycombe said.
“May I?” Hadrian asked Teague who nodded in reply.
Before Hadrian, who’d removed his gloves, could pick up the note, Tilda did so. She didn’t want him touching it. It was too risky, for they were all standing together with their collective focus on the note. Wycombe and certainly Teague would notice Hadrian’s eyes unfocusing.