Chapter 1 #2
Ben nodded. The family had extensive property and investments.
As a solicitor, he often oversaw the financial statements for the holdings of his clients.
This could be quite a boon for him. If Tamber was happy with Ben’s work, there could be more influential members of the ton.
He might be able to buy a townhouse in the near future rather than years from now.
“Eli liked the man, said he was straightforward and easy to deal with,” said Ben.
“Mattie says he has a lovely wife and little boy,” added Nora. Harry’s wife, Mattie, was the sister of an earl and had known Lord and Lady Tamber socially. “This is a good opportunity for you, Benjie.”
Ben smiled at the childhood nickname. Only Nora called him that, and he could never break her of the habit.
Angus leaned forward on his knees, cradling the glass of brandy between his hands. “I would advise against becoming involved with his mother. She’s quite the shrew, and from what I understand, a terror to deal with.”
“I appreciate the warning,” said Ben, wondering how much trouble an old woman could cause. Regardless, the marchioness wasn’t hiring him; her son was. But with Angus Marshall’s ties to the nobility, Benjamin would take heed of the warning.
Paddy moved on to investigations. “So, where are we with dat Vicar scoundrel? Any rumblings in da legal halls?”
Angus sighed and stood, pacing the room. “One of the guards at Newgate was bribed to let someone in to see Mason. It’s a shame, but not unexpected, that no one’s talking. If our Harry couldn’t dig anything up, my sources certainly won’t.”
The Vicar was the head of a counterfeit ring—among other illegal ventures—who had been evading the Peelers for several years.
Each time they got close to the man—or one of his toadies—a body vanished or turned up dead.
Mason had been part of the Vicar’s inner circle, but he’d never made it to trial for murder because he’d become a victim himself.
“Mason was finished off quickly and silently. It was the work of a professional, not some henchman,” said Nora. “I’d wager it was the same assassin who killed the viscount at Hyde Park last November.”
Lord Major Hatfield had been working for the Home Office.
He’d informed his superior that he had a lead on where some of the counterfeit banknotes were coming from.
But he was injected with poison by a passerby with a loaded parasol and died shortly after.
The newspapers had reported it as a short but lethal illness.
It marked the third time poison had been used to eliminate government agents.
“Mason wasn’t poisoned,” Ben pointed out. “His throat was slit. Though a professional will change his methods depending on the situation.”
“We’ve got the devil on the run, forcing him to take out one of his best men.” Paddy slapped his knee. “He’ll be irritated with us.”
“That’s to our advantage,” said Angus. “Make his lackeys nervous, not knowing if they’re next. They might talk easier.”
“I wish we could have spoken with Ruby’s father before he jumped on a ship bound for who knows where.” Nora shook her head. “Must have been hard on the poor girl, finding out her father worked for such a villain.”
“She’s safe with Eli and Mrs. Norton now,” said Ben, wondering how many other families had been torn apart by The Vicar’s influence. “Do you think he’ll lie low again? It’s his usual next step after eliminating a liability.”
“Weel, according to my count, da last few years haven’t been kind to our Vicar.
He’s lost four men so far, which don’t bode well for trust among da ranks.
” Paddy scratched his wolfhound’s wiry coat, and the dog’s back leg began thumping in rhythm.
“It takes a long while to earn da kind of trust needed to be in da inner circle. Losing dat many reliable men will leave him vulnerable. So, aye, he’ll be scarce again. ”
“Which means you’ll have a little breathing space to continue the investigation unhindered,” said Ben. “Anything new come in?”
Paddy shook his head. “Scheduled an appointment for next week. We’ll see what dat brings, but ‘tis nice to have a break.”
Ben walked along Gracechurch Street, enjoying the exercise and quieter streets at night.
He hadn’t been to Jackson’s in over a week, and he needed to get in the ring.
Boxing helped him work out his frustrations.
His mind ran over the facts of the O’Brien Investigations’ ongoing case with The Vicar, then concentrated on the upcoming meeting with Lord Tamber.
He would send a note with his card tomorrow, letting the earl know of his availability.
He paused for several hackneys at the intersection where Cornhill became Leadenhall Street, then continued straight.
Another block and Gracechurch switched to Bishopsgate, where Ben lived.
When Samson married Dottie, Ben had taken the physician’s lodgings.
Comfortable with the location—closer to his office—and on good terms with the landlady, it had seemed a good move.
There was a mews close by where he could keep a horse, and it wasn’t too far from his childhood home, his favorite public houses, and a good meal.
Ben hummed an old tavern tune, a habit of his when he was deep in thought.
As he came to a conclusion, the humming usually transformed into a whistle.
When they were growing up, his brothers and sister always knew when he was working through a problem.
It was Clayton who had pointed out that the whistle always came with a solution.
Little things about him that only family would know.
Family. Why had he become so sentimental lately? Thinking about family, a wife, children… he wasn’t lonely or dissatisfied with his life. It was more of a hole somewhere in the fabric of his life, as if something was missing.
What had Maggie said? He chuckled, remembering her Irish words of wisdom. Every old sock finds a shoe.
So was he looking for the sock or the shoe?