Chapter 19
I did very much long to know what they’d learned about Mr. Draper, and at any other time, I’d be torn between inquisitiveness and apprehension about the danger the man presented.
“Later,” I said. Daniel gazed at me in surprise, but I rushed on. “You will not be happy when I tell you, but I can hardly keep it from you. Though a part of me wants to. You are not rational about this topic.”
“I’d like to think I am the most rational of men,” Daniel returned, his expression carefully neutral. “I have studied the technique.”
“At least you are not shouting. Everyone has gone upstairs, but loud voices in the kitchen will draw attention.”
Daniel regarded me in perplexity. “You are alarming me, Kat. The fact that you have not pushed a tasty treat my way tells me something is very wrong. I promise to listen calmly to your news.”
He would not, but I’d not hold him to it.
“Mr. Naismith came to speak to me. Right outside there.” I pointed to the high window that led to the outside stairwell.
Daniel went very still. In the flicker of my candle flame, his face suffused with color and his eyes took on the savage light I’d seen once before—when he’d interviewed a hardened villain called Pilcher, who’d revealed he worked for Mr. Naismith.
I rushed on. “Before you order me out the door onto a train to parts unknown, let me tell you exactly what he said.”
While Daniel’s hands curled into hard balls, I recounted my conversation with Naismith as word for word as I could remember.
“He claims you have stumbled onto something very hazardous indeed,” I finished. “Likely something that threatens him, and he’d prefer you to work on his side instead of against him. Also, he vows he never killed Mr. Carter. I take that with a grain of salt, of course.”
Daniel did not interrupt my entire speech, nor did he change expression or make any startled or angry noises. He simply sat in one position, unmoving, his eyes fixed on a point on the kitchen’s brick wall.
I finished, refilling my cup of tea, suddenly thirsty. I sipped, but still Daniel said nothing.
“Did you hear any of that?” I laid the cup carefully in the saucer. “Or have you become lost in yourself? And the past?” I said the last very softly.
Daniel at last looked at me. Naked rage burned in his eyes as well as a guardedness.
“I will not let him hurt you, Kat,” he said with quiet resolve. “Or Grace. Or Cynthia, or anyone else. Cynthia might think on retreating to Hertfordshire to her parents. You can go with Grace to Basingstoke and not return.”
“I can hardly impose myself on Joanna,” I said quickly. While I was happy for Grace to be out of danger, I had no intention of fleeing the city and leaving Daniel alone and vulnerable. “Besides, my market stall is doing well so far. I have not seen you to tell you.”
Daniel didn’t relent. “I’m certain families in the south of England would be pleased to acquire such a cook as yourself. Go and put London behind you.”
“You seem to believe such things are simple.” I sipped more tea, finding the warm beverage soothing.
“I would have to visit an agency and put myself on their books, waiting who knows how long to find a position. Meanwhile I’d live in Joanna’s spare room and eat all their food, which she needs to feed her brood.
Besides, I agree with Joanna. London is my home. I would be wretched to leave it.”
“Kat—”
“I am not discounting the danger, Daniel. However, I have been in danger all my life, from different sources at different times. Life is never completely safe, and you know this better than most. I have survived thus far, and I will not let Mr. Naismith and his veiled threats drive me from my home.”
I finished with adamance, a bit of tea sloshing from the cup I held. I set it down and snatched a towel from the end of the table to dab up the spill.
Daniel let out a long, heavy breath and buried his face in his hands. He hunched there a few moments while the clock ticked on the wall and my candle sputtered.
When I thought he’d either sit that way for the rest of the night or rise and fling himself out the door, he slid his hands down and rested them limply on the table.
“You are good for me, Kat.”
“Oh?” I lifted my teacup again. “In what way?”
“Because you speak sense when everything inside me is chaos. You pull me back, root me firmly in the earth.”
“I do not sound very exciting,” I said. “I thought gentlemen wanted ladies who enraptured them beyond belief and kept them confused and dancing on a string.”
“Those gentlemen are fools.” Daniel’s eyes began to warm.
“Believe me, you are quite exciting enough for any man. I’m never certain what you will do next.
” He shook his head. “You are right. I will not let the likes of Naismith drive me and everyone I care about away. We will stay and see this thing through.”
He reached for my hand. I laid mine into his, and he squeezed it tightly.
“Together,” I said, to clarify.
Daniel’s smile became full. “Together.”
“Good.” I sat back in my chair but let him continue to hold my hand. “You look more like your old self again, instead of withdrawing and pushing us all away.”
“I have been doing that, I know. I beg your pardon most humbly. This has all unnerved me.”
“I can imagine.” I gently withdrew from his grip but only so I could rise and fetch the scones Tess had spent the afternoon baking.
“You heard about a possible tie to your parentage, then were detained for questioning about Mr. Banks’s murder, and now Mr. Naismith is sticking his oar in—I would be in the throes of apoplexy myself. ”
“You have enough troubles of your own, my love.” Daniel took the plate I handed him and eagerly took up a scone. “And you find time to bake exquisite sweets. I will not let Naismith drive me from this.”
I sat back down with a thump. “I see. Finding answers and arresting a killer are not as important as enjoying currant scones. Which Tess baked, by the way. I was far too distracted not to ruin them.”
“Thank Tess for me, then.” Daniel consumed a scone in several bites and licked his fingers. “Tell her she has become an excellent baker. But she has had an excellent teacher.”
“I know you are feeling better when you are spouting flattering nonsense.” I reached for the notebook I’d set aside at his knock. “Now, tell me what you and Mr. Fielding found out from Mr. Draper.”
“Mmm.” Daniel brushed off his fingers and took a long swallow of tea.
“He is a sordid man, but I expected no less, from what Patterson and Errol said about him. Draper indeed owns several gaming houses in the East End, one of them near Hoxton Square, as Errol indicated. We visited him there last night.”
“Did he remember you?” I asked before I could contain myself. I was less interested in Mr. Draper’s current affairs than the fact he might have shared a home with young Daniel. “From Mrs. Kerr’s, I mean?”
“He recalled Mrs. Kerr and Patterson, acknowledging that he lived with her for a few years. Whether or not I was the same person as little Robbie, he couldn’t say. But he remembered Banks very well. Has seen him off and on over the years. In fact, Banks owed him money.”
“Did he, now?” I quickly scribbled down this information. “How much money?”
“Draper was vague, but I gathered it was quite a sum. Draper was annoyed that Banks had been killed, because now he can’t collect. Banks had no heirs that he knows of.”
“How compassionate of him.” I decided I did not like Mr. Draper. “I hope he leaves Mr. Banks’s landlady be. I’m certain the only thing of value Mr. Banks had was his medal, and I am not giving that over to Mr. Draper.”
“Nor should you. The debt will have to be taken as a loss,” Daniel said firmly. “I said as much to Draper, who agreed, though he is not happy. Angry even.”
“A good man died,” I said indignantly. “Mr. Draper will have to be content that Mr. Banks didn’t owe him any more than he did.”
“We only assume Banks was a good man,” Daniel pointed out. “Because he braved Crimea and tried to tell me about Mrs. Kerr. If he didn’t mean to say anything more to me besides that.”
I turned back to my notes on Mr. Banks, which I’d tried to make as neat as Sergeant Scott’s. I had columns under his name for the times of his movements on his last day, for what Hannah and I had found in his rooms, and for the information he might have had for Daniel.
I had one column with the label Query above it. Now I wrote in that column: Did Mr. Banks have more to tell Daniel? And How much did he owe Mr. Draper? Then Would Mr. Draper have murdered him because he hadn’t paid?
“I doubt it.” Daniel had leaned to watch me write. “Draper was quite annoyed that he wouldn’t see the money again. He must have known Banks wouldn’t have such a sum on him or in his rooms, so that lets out any idea Draper might have had to rob him.”
“Then how would Mr. Banks have paid it back?” I asked.
“Any number of ways, I imagine. Banks could borrow money from another friend, though I haven’t turned up a wealthy man or even a moderately well-off one among his acquaintances.
He might have sold something, but we know he had little to sell.
He might have tried to work more jobs for builders and saved the sum, though I have not yet found any evidence of that.
He might have worked it off for Draper—Draper could have had Banks running errands for him or perhaps acting as a guard in the games rooms, since he was an old soldier. ”
I dutifully wrote all this down, then touched the pen to my lip. “Mr. Naismith seemed to believe Mr. Banks was involved in something furtive going on around the docks. Something Mr. Draper was involved in as well? Not that I took Mr. Naismith at his word about anything.”
“A good viewpoint to keep.”
“When Mr. Banks contacted you, through Mr. Grimes, did this alarm Mr. Draper? Or anyone who thought Mr. Banks might be telling you something he should not?” I drew an eager breath.
“Something that was to take place near Pudding Dock? Why else would he go there instead of straight to the pub to meet us?”
“Why indeed?” Daniel’s eyes began to light with the interest I knew well. “I’d think, if Banks wanted to confess he was committing dirty deeds for Draper, that he’d meet us first and then take us to the docks.”
“He might have had an appointment with someone else,” I suggested.
“This is all true. Things to find out.” Daniel grinned at me. “We are better at this together.”
“Of course we are. Two heads are better than one, as the saying goes.”
Daniel’s severe expression returned. “That does not mean I want you poking around Blackfriars on your own. Grimes and I will do that chore.”
“Mr. Grimes said there were men watching him,” I remembered. “He warned me, then tried to draw them off. But if they belonged to Mr. Naismith, there was nothing he could do.”
“I doubt Naismith would be that clumsy, but who knows? At least Errol was wise enough to use Grimes to help him protect Patterson, though I’m not happy with my brother for stealing Grimes from me.
Neither of them wanted a repetition of what happened to Banks.
” Daniel’s spirits flagged. “I ought to have met Banks in his rooms, where he’d have been safe. ”
“You couldn’t know that what he had to say was worth murder,” I pointed out.
“His death likely has nothing at all to do with his meeting with you, and everything to do with his connection to Mr. Draper, or others like him. What if he owed money to more villains than Mr. Draper? Who might not have been as patient?”
“Many avenues to pursue.” Daniel drained his teacup, then lowered it slowly. “You are right, Kat. We should not let Naismith drive us from our lives or keep us from discovering the truth. Banks doesn’t deserve that. My enmity with Naismith is a separate issue.”
“Will you find out what he wants your help with?” That had my curiosity afire. “I can’t imagine why so powerful a criminal needs aid.”
“I find it incredible he claims he had nothing to do with Carter’s death.” Daniel shook his head. “But, granted, I was ten years old at the time, hiding behind a woodpile. I never saw Naismith. Only terrible men killing everyone who couldn’t get away from them. It was horrible.”
Daniel closed his eyes, and I knew he was envisioning it, his terror as he watched the only man who’d been good to him be murdered before his eyes. Mr. Fielding, not much older, had been there, but he’d fled, knowing, quite rightly, that there would be nothing he could do.
I laid my hand on Daniel’s, but I said nothing. There was nothing to say. It was his pain, which he’d carried with him for more than twenty years, and all I could do was sit with him, letting him know he was not alone.
Eventually, Daniel opened his eyes, drawing a long breath.
He stilled, frowning. “What is that?”
I looked to what he gazed at. I realized that when I’d lifted the towel to wipe up the tea I’d spilled, I’d revealed the picture book, which I’d hidden under it. I’d planned to show it to him after we spoke about Mr. Naismith.
I drew it to us and turned it so he could see the cover. “I found this on Hannah’s table, and it occurred to me to wonder. Mrs. Forbes said Robbie had a book he wouldn’t let go of. Could you be remembering a longing for the seaside because your parents gave you a picture book about it?”