Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lady Mary
“So glad that you could join me.” I sniffed, put out that it took Mr. Rollins and Eleanor a full three hours to respond to my summons. It was past my usual tea time, and I become cranky without that repast.
I looked between the two, not failing to note that they had arrived together. And that Eleanor looked suspiciously flushed.
Leaning back in my office chair, I rested my linked hands on my abdomen, smiling for the first time in who knew how long. Young love was enough to pull anyone from a foul spirit.
Mr. Rollins held Eleanor’s chair until she sat, then took his own. “Pardon me for not being immediately available, Lady Mary. I do have duties to attend.”
I suppose I’d earned that. In a more reasonable tone, I said, “It is inconvenient to have to call you hence every time we need to talk. We could set up another desk in my office for your use for the duration of the investigation?”
Rollins paused while removing his notepad, his hand half in his pocket. “No, I think not. Sir John Stauncey would hardly look kindly on such an arrangement, and I don’t want him removing me from this investigation.”
“But Lord Richford has hired you personally.” Eleanor reached over and rested her palm on his arm. “You can’t be replaced.”
Rollins traced his finger over the back of her hand, the motion so quick and light it could have been accidental.
But when he straightened and turned a guilt-laden gaze on me, I knew better.
“With Richford fleeing to his country estate, I’m not certain where I stand.
When I notified him of his son’s death, he…
” Rollins sighed. “He was a broken man. I don’t know if he has the mental capability to remember he’s put me on retainer, much less to continue to contract me.
It would be an easy thing for Stauncey to assign another agent. ”
“Then we need to solve the murders before that happens,” I said firmly. “What can you tell us about how Bannister was killed?”
Rollins flipped open his notebook. “You already know the basics. Shot with a small caliber pistol at close range. We found a ruby necklace in his boot with the initials A.M. engraved on the clasp.” He looked up. “The Masseys reluctantly confirmed it was theirs.”
I reached for the walking stick leaning against my desk and tapped the silver ram’s head that topped this one against one palm.
“So, it is confirmed the viscountess engaged in blackmail. And used my club to sell some of her ill-gotten gains.” The knowledge of that still burned.
I wondered if White’s had to deal with being used as a meeting place for illegal behavior.
One could only hope. “What about the other jewelry you found? Any luck tracing those items?”
Eleanor scooted to the edge of her seat.
“No. None of them were distinctive enough for the jewelers I questioned to remember. Except for the posey ring. One man thought a former worker might have made it. He had no records of it, though. It didn’t seem as though this jeweler was overly fond of record-keeping.
He did give me the worker’s name, however. ”
“And I have men trying to find him,” Rollins added.
I nodded. “And what about the rest of the murder scene. Anything else of note?”
Mr. Rollins hesitated a moment. “Except for the body, it was undisturbed.” He shot a sidelong glance at Eleanor. “The door hadn’t been forced. Which leads me to believe Bannister invited his killer inside. He knew her. Or him.”
“But you think it was a woman.” I trailed my thumb over the ram’s head. The silver had been etched with rough hatch marks on the horns, the slight scratch on my skin helping to focus my thoughts.
“Judging from the angle the bullet traveled, the shooter would have been shorter than most men.” He ran a hand up the back of his head, mussing his auburn locks.
“The fact that Bannister was shot at all makes me suspect the killer was a member of your sex. Lady Richford was a small woman. It wouldn’t take much strength to strangle her, but Bannister was a different story.
The same method wouldn’t work for a woman, not unless she somehow incapacitated the man first. A different weapon was needed. ”
Eleanor sighed. “I should have asked Miss Abbott about Lady Richford’s blackmail. As her dear friend, surely she would have known.”
“Or participated in it.” Mr. Rollins gave a growl of displeasure. “It’s a good thing you didn’t ask her. By your own account, she was angry enough with your questions. I don’t want to think what she might have done to you had she known you thought she was involved with the viscountess’s crimes.”
“If she was,” I felt the need to add, not wanting to accuse a possibly innocent woman.
Although with Miss Abbott’s revolutionary feelings, would it be far-fetched to think she would take anything other than glee from stealing from the wealthy?
She flaunted her disgust with traditional society and its rules, seemed to yearn for the impossible utopia her political leanings promised.
Eleanor pursed her lips. “It could explain how she affords her lodgings. They are quite nice,” she said to me, “for someone who only seems to have odd jobs to support herself.”
I frowned. We were getting off the point. “Yes, she might be involved with Lady Richford’s blackmail, but she didn’t kill her. We spoke with the host of the salon she attended that night, and with his staff. Miss Abbott was there until well after midnight. She didn’t leave early.”
Rollins cleared his throat, shifting. “Yes, I had already spoken with Mr. Poole and confirmed she was there.”
The ram on my stick smacked into my desk, the sound making Eleanor start. “And you didn’t tell us?” I asked, outraged.
He grimaced. “I’m not accustomed to relating my investigation to anyone other than the magistrate. I apologize.”
Knowing the Runner didn’t hand out apologies freely, I was slightly mollified.
“She said the argument between her and Bannister was because he took offense at the guidance she wanted to give him.” Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “For once, I can understand Bannister’s temper. I wouldn’t want Miss Abbott giving her opinions on my life, either.”
Especially if Miss Abbott was living immorally, as well.
The hypocrisy would have rubbed anyone wrong.
I slumped in my chair. If Miss Abbott had partnered with Lady Richford to blackmail members of the ton, were there others?
How many members of my club were looting the wealthy?
The silver knob dug into my skin. And using my club to help them do it.
There was one man who might know. Or be able to find out. “What about the connection between Edric Cooke and Lord Anglia? If Cooke is connected with Anglia, and Lady Richford was in Anglia’s way politically, could the crime lord be involved?”
Mr. Rollins dragged his hand down his face and sighed.
“I don’t want to add another suspect now, and I don’t think a man of Cooke’s reputation would have a woman strangled in a women’s club.
If he wanted the viscountess dead, her body would never have been found.
And what would be the motive for Bannister’s murder? ”
I held up my free hand. “All right, it was only an idea.” And the fact that the Runner dismissed Cooke as their murderer so readily released a knot in my shoulder I hadn’t known was there.
Eleanor tapped her knuckles against her lips.
“Frederick, I know you think the killer is a woman, but I still think Lord Anglia is a strong prospect.” She stared out the window at the burgeoning dusk, not seeming to realize she’d called the Runner with his Christian name.
“He stands to make money if his bills pass while Lord Richford is out of the way, and his attack in the paper was quite vicious. I could see him choking the life out of someone.”
“His secretary says they were together, working,” Rollins said. “I didn’t believe him, but I also don’t know why Anglia would publish such a piece about the viscountess, putting his name on it, if he intended to kill her later. He didn’t need to draw suspicion to himself.”
I jabbed the walking stick into the floor and pressed to standing.
I stalked to the window and peered out. No protesting crowd.
No one with a flaming jug. “We’re going in circles.
What I wouldn’t give to have all of our suspects in one place, available for all our questions, where they could be called on their lies by the others. ”
“Why can’t we have that?”
I turned at the excitement in Eleanor’s voice. “Have what?”
“A party.” She stood as well. “Send out invitations to all our suspects. Gather them together. And with Frederick there, they’ll have to answer us.”
Ever the gentleman, Mr. Rollins also rose to his feet. “Why would they come?”
I toyed with the idea. “If the invitation is worded correctly. If it comes from myself and my nephew in conjunction, perhaps? Not many people refuse a party hosted by the Duke of Montague.”
“Will your nephew come?” Eleanor’s brows drew together.
“It doesn’t matter. It will be too late as far as our guests are concerned.
” I rolled up on my toes, liking this idea better and better.
“We can have it at my house. This Saturday. The short notice is incredibly rude. They will each think they are second choice guests only invited after another invitee has declined, but much is forgiven when done in a duke’s name. ”
“We don’t have a moment to lose.” Eleanor rushed to the door. “I’ll get the invitations drawn up now before the calligrapher closes. I can send them out tomorrow.” She looked to Mr. Rollins. “Are you coming?”
He shook his head. “I have more work to do. Can I join you and your mother for supper again?”
She gave him a wide grin. “Of course. I’ll see you then.” And she was gone.
I arched my eyebrows. “Supper together? Again?”
“Yes.” He adjusted his neckcloth, smoothing the ends under his jacket. “This party of yours will likely come to naught.”
“Or we could learn something important.” It was becoming too dark to see the road clearly, and I didn’t like the idea of the lights in my window making me so visible.
I pulled the heavy velvet drapes closed.
“Each of our suspects is aware we are investigating. Once they are all gathered, they might be annoyed, but hardly surprised. I see no drawback.”
“As you say.” Rollins shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.
I waited. He’d said he had work to do but seemed content to stare daggers at my office wall. “Was there something on your mind?” I finally asked.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Slowly released a deep breath. “Yes. I was wondering if I could see some applications to join your club. Those of Lady Richford, Mrs. Massey, and Mrs. Lynton. I might as well include Miss Abbott, as well. Assuming you’ve kept those papers.”
The world was made up of records and red tape. Of course, I’d kept them. “Why do you want to see them?”
“I have a colleague who has studied graphic expression in handwriting.” He cleared his throat. “He is always most eager to analyze the handwriting of suspects in our cases.”
I narrowed my eyes. “To what end?”
“He swears handwriting can reveal a person’s character. Simmons blathers on and on about some French blokes who’ve made a study of it. Or were they Italian?” Mr. Rollins pressed his notebook to his chest, his thumb tracing the edge.
“What a barrel of nonsense.” To think evil could be seen in script. “You can’t believe that bosh.”
His cheeks darkened. “I understand it has been used as evidence in some trials on the Continent.”
“But not England.”
“No.” He sighed, and opened his notebook, pulling a torn bit of paper from it. “I also want Simmons to compare the handwriting samples to this. See if he can match it to any of your patrons.”
“Identifying a person based on their handwriting?” I pursed my lips. “That I can credit more.”
“Unfortunately, our court system doesn’t yet agree. It can’t be used as evidence, but it might point me to the culprit.”
“Where did you find that paper?” I narrowed my eyes.
“By Edgar Bannister’s body.” He pressed his lips flat. “It appears the killer tore the paper from Bannister’s hand and destroyed the remainder.”
“And you waited for Eleanor to leave before making this request.” I didn’t need to phrase it as a question. I knew why he’d waited. I just didn’t know if I approved.
He turned his somber green eyes to me. “I hope Mrs. Lynton isn’t involved, but I can’t yet rule it out.”
I didn’t envy the man his position. I knew all too well what it was to make an impossible decision, one that could be seen as a betrayal.
I trudged to a cabinet in the corner of the room and opened the top drawer. I pulled out two thick folders and brought them to my desk. “The applications are filed alphabetically.” I quickly shuffled through the papers, pulling out the ones he’d requested.
Rollins laid his scrap of paper next to the forms. I had a standard list of questions with room below to answer. Lady Richford’s hand was bold and rounded. Mrs. Massey’s neat and tight. Miss Abbott’s scrawl was barely legible. I remembered the headache I’d suffered trying to read her words.
It was difficult to tell if Mrs. Lynton’s hand was a match to the few words Rollins had on his paper.
It was by far the closest of the applications, but I couldn’t swear they were by the same hand.
But I wasn’t a handwriting expert. I suspected this Simmons at Bow Street would be able to analyze the two samples better than I.
Mr. Rollins must have had the same idea. “Can I borrow these? I’ll bring them back.”
I tucked the applications back into their folders. “Why don’t you take all of them? See if any others are possible matches.”
“Thank you.” He tucked the torn scrap back in his notebook and slid it in his pocket. Picking up the folders, he turned for the door.
“What will you do if it is a match with Mrs. Lynton?” I asked.
He paused, his wide shoulders drawing tight beneath his jacket. He didn’t look back at me. “I’ll arrest her.”
I let him go without another word, praying that if Rollins found a match to his evidence, it wouldn’t be Mrs. Lynton.
Because if Rollins arrested Eleanor’s mother, I feared that neither the ardor nor zeal of young love would be strong enough to overcome it.