Chapter 7 #3
Tall and thickly muscled, he grabbed me and pulled me against him, the fumes of drink washing over me.
“I have a good amount of coin in me pocket and I’ve not had me a lady before.”
I brought the knife up that Munro had given me years before and pressed the tip of the blade into the thick flesh beneath the beard at his face.
“Nor will you tonight after you are left bleeding on the floor.” I pressed the blade deeper.
He hesitated, obviously unprepared for someone who was far more interested in cutting his throat than the coin in his pocket.
Would I do it?
Brodie had asked that question once before. After the things I had seen in our inquiries, the innocent victims, my sister’s life threatened by someone with no care for her life.
Brodie had spoken of that moment when a decision must be made, a coldness that blocked everything from one’s thoughts, except that one thought—survival.
I knew when I set out for St. Katherine’s docks that it could be dangerous.
What are ye prepared to do, lass?
A low growl accompanied by a distinct odor of fish came from the direction very near the floor as the tavern suddenly went silent.
“I will use this if I have too, or you may let go. Now.” I told the man who held me in a less than friendly grasp.
“Ye might want to do as the lady asks, Davey,” a familiar voice cut through the silence. “I have heard that she is most capable and not a piece ye want to tangle with. And there is the animal at her feet that seems to have particular interest in yer cock.”
It could only be Mr. Browne.
That proved out as the man’s hold on me slowly loosened and the noise in the tavern resumed.
As my assailant backed farther away, then went in search of other game, I turned to greet the owner of the Red Witch.
“You might have a care when paying a visit, Lady Forsythe,” he commented. “It can be dangerous for such as yourself. Now, tell me, what brings ye here?”
“I was not concerned for myself.”
He glanced down at my feet where Rupert stood guard, the ruff at the back of his neck standing on end.
“The hound,” he smiled. “His reputation precedes him.”
“May we speak in private?” I inquired.
He nodded. “If yer not concerned for yer reputation.”
He led the way up those stairs, into what I discovered was a private office with another stairway that led to upper floors above the tavern. He obviously noticed my curiosity.
“For the other appetites of those who put into the docks after months at sea with a need for female companionship,” he explained as he closed the door then gestured to the chair across the desk. Rupert settled at my feet.
“The bloody animal follows you everywhere.”
“He has very clear orders from Brodie.”
He roared with laughter. “No doubt. I would do the same with one such as yerself. Now, yer throat must be dry after swearing at Davy,” he commented as he seized a bottle from the long table behind the desk.
“Recommended by a friend,” he added as he poured a dram of Old Lodge whisky into two glasses.
“I understand you have a preference for it.”
I nodded.
“Now, what brings you to my new establishment?”
I knew very well that Mr. Browne was not a person to be trifled with.
I took a sip of whisky, mindful that it was not recommended to over-indulge in a place like the Red Witch.
“I’m looking for information regarding an inquiry I’m making over an incident that happened over a month ago at the docks. I’m hoping you might know something about it, or possibly have heard something that could be important in solving the man’s death.”
“And the man’s name?”
“Sir Thomas Ellsworth on the night of 18 October. His body was found in the Thames.”
“The name is familiar.”
“Crofts Bank.”
“Ah, gave some thought to relieving them of some of their cash, then decided against it. The bank is well-guarded. Too much trouble.”
“It would seem that it was a robbery that went wrong and ended in his death. The police have been unable to find the murderer. I was contacted by Lady Ellsworth, his grandmother, with the hope of being able to assist the investigation.”
“What has Mr. Brodie to say in the matter?”
“He is aware that I am attempting to help in the matter, yet he is off on another situation.”
Mr. Browne nodded. “So I understand.”
I was aware the man was well-informed, yet surprised that he knew about the new position at the Home Office.
Brodie had said on more than one occasion that Mr. Browne was aware of everything that happened across London. He had that many connections. Dangerous, Brodie also said, for a man who ran organized criminal rings.
“I heard of the man’s death. A lawyer he was, convenient for the family.”
“I’ve since learned he was not inclined to become part of the family banking enterprise. He apparently dined with a friend that evening, then departed.”
“The rich and their money,” he commented. “The problem is that they need to share it.”
I was certain I could imagine how that might be done.
“What is it that you want from me, Lady Forsythe?”
“According to Brodie, you control a good part of the ‘business’ on the streets. I’m aware that Mr. Munro made very lucrative arrangements with you in the past for my great-aunt’s whisky.” I pointedly tipped my glass to him.
“I need to know who was seen that night at the docks when Thomas Ellsworth’s body was put in the river. From information I have, an unknown carter made the delivery. Mr. Cavendish has been unable to learn who that might be.