Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Even after just one year away from Bow Street, the cold, cavernous gap separating Hugh from Bow Street Officers Tyne and Stevens when they arrived at the Cascade was unmistakable.
He stood apart from the two men as they spoke to the four workers that had been with the body when Hugh and Audrey had entered behind the obscuring screen.
Daylight had faded, and numerous lamps had been lit to illuminate the base of the Cascade.
As word spread throughout the pleasure gardens of the body’s discovery, the crowds on the other side of the screen had more than doubled.
The cumulative voices had risen to a near cacophony as Hugh and Audrey had waited, choosing to stay with the body of Harlan Givens.
Shortly after Sir had run off, and Thornton had given chase, Audrey asked Cassie and her maid to set out to search the grounds as well.
She’d then whispered in Hugh’s ear a suggestion that he distract the workers.
He’d known her intention, and even though a rock still sat in the pit of his stomach as he thought of what Sir had just seen, he’d gotten to work.
After drawing the four Vauxhall workers into a line for a discussion of the particulars regarding how and when the body had been found, making sure to angle them away from the body itself, Audrey had crouched beside Givens.
As Hugh collected information, such as who had found the body (a lamplighter in charge of checking the gas jets for the evening’s performance), when it had been found (just minutes before six o’clock), and whether any of them knew who Harlan Givens was or if they had seen him before at the pleasure gardens (a uniform no from all), she had hunched near the dead man’s form.
The distraction only lasted a minute or two.
One of the workers threw a glance over his shoulder and spotted her.
“What’s that in your hand, milady?” he’d asked.
When Audrey straightened up, she held a silver object in her ungloved hand. “This was sticking out of his pocket,” she’d said. “Perhaps he’d been drinking and then fell from the bridge?” She’d pointed to the bridge high above, spanning the scene’s waterfall.
Hugh suspected how much it pained her to sound so obtuse, but there were no other viable excuses for being found holding Harlan Givens’s flask.
The worker took it from her hand and placed it onto the ground, next to the body. Hugh noted the lack of blood pooled around it. A sliced throat would have made more of a mess, but there wasn’t much of anything near the body. He inferred that he’d been killed elsewhere and brought here, then.
“I doubt he fell. He’s lost his ear, you see. That’s the third one this month.”
And that was that staggering revelation Hugh was now discussing with the manager of Vauxhall, Mr. Frederick Gye.
“Yes, yes, I told these fellows from Bow Street all about the other two bodies,” he said with marked impatience as he and Hugh stood near the screen’s edging.
Gye kept peeking out at the milling crowd.
Hugh couldn’t be sure if it was with concern or excitement.
The man’s expression seemed to skip between the two.
“There have been two other murders at Vauxhall and no newspaper has printed even a single report of them. How is that possible?” Hugh asked.
The manager raised his hands and patted the air in a gesture for him to lower his voice. Irritated, Hugh grumbled, “The hyenas on the other side of this screen are not able to hear me.”
“Mr. Gye,” Audrey cut in, perhaps sensing Hugh’s failing patience. “Newspaper reporters are ravenous for stories such as this. How is it that Bow Street has kept it quiet?”
“I have…connections there.” He looked and sounded as though he’d like to keep it at that.
“And you asked them to stay quiet about the murders,” Hugh said, “because it would be bad for business?”
Mr. Gye grinned and spread his arms. “Yes, exactly, Lord Neatham. Perfectly understandable, isn’t it, to want to maintain calm and a sense of order?”
By the excitement on the other side of the screen, Hugh could understand the man’s motives. One dead body may heighten the public’s interest, but three in one month would give people pause.
“You can say goodbye to that arrangement, Mr. Gye. There is no chance that this is not going to be on every broadsheet in London by morning,” Hugh said. “So, what has happened differently this time?”
Mr. Gye sighed, his disappointment plain. “This time, the body was not found before the gardens opened to visitors, as the other two were.”
Hugh peered at the base of the Cascade where Givens’s body had been.
Shortly after Bow Street arrived, it was carted away.
They had taken it through the trees, avoiding the more populated Grand Walk, but had surely been observed at some point before exiting the grounds.
Hopefully not by Sir. It was a wretched thing to have seen, and not something he was ever likely to forget.
“Who were the other two victims?” Hugh asked.
The manager might have total control of the wildly successful amusement parkland, but he was not half as skilled at controlling his facial expressions.
He wore his every thought on his face and in the hold of his posture.
Right now, he arched an eyebrow and over a few protracted moments, seemed to consider naming the two other victims. It was more than apparent from his cagey expression that he knew them.
However, his ultimate decision was to feign ignorance.
“I have no idea, and nor do I wish to. I leave all the unsavory details to Officer Tyne.”
In the months after Hugh’s departure from the magistrate’s office, Tyne had risen in rank and had become a principal officer.
He was now the lead on these hushed up murders.
Tyne stood with the workers, speaking to them as they started to go about the business of readying the Cascade for its nightly performance.
Mr. Gye had refused to shut down the exhibit.
It would go on, as planned. Tyne glimpsed at Hugh, his expression wooden.
The officer likely did not appreciate his presence.
“If those victims were found in the morning,” Audrey started to say, oblivious to the tension exchanged between Hugh and Tyne, “does that mean they were killed here, at the gardens, overnight?”
Mr. Gye narrowed his gaze on Audrey, and again, his thoughts were obvious. To Audrey as well, it seemed, for she hardened her expression and braced for his reply.
“This is hardly a pleasant topic for a lady. Your Grace, allow my assistant to show you to the pavilion. A glass of wine, perhaps, to calm the nerves?” Mr. Gye cut off Audrey, who’d started to reply with an objection, by shouting, “Hammond!”
A tall man with unfashionably long black curls, streaked with silver at the temples immediately came around the corner of the screen. He stood at attention, though his shoulders and back still seemed to droop. His gloved hands were clasped behind him. “You called, Mr. Gye?”
His voice was soft in comparison to the manager’s, who barked for the man to lead the dowager duchess to the supper boxes and to bring her a glass of wine.
“I only offer the finest selection,” he said as an aside to Audrey. “From my own establishment, the London Wine Company. A recent acquisition.”
Vauxhall was a fairly recent acquisition too, if Hugh recalled correctly.
The Tyers-Barrett family had owned the pleasure gardens since its inception in the previous century, but the most recent generation had decided to lease it to Mr. Gye.
He was a businessman through and through, eager to buy up establishments and profit from them.
Hugh saw that as plainly as he did the man’s thoughts and feelings.
There was no artifice with him at all, and for that, Hugh was grateful.
Or perhaps, Office Tyne should be grateful.
This wasn’t Hugh’s investigation. His interest lay solely in the fact that the most recent body belonged to that of Sir’s father.
“No, thank you, Mr. Gye,” Audrey replied. “I will remain here with Lord Neatham. Now, about my question—”
“You need not concern yourself with such ghastly goings on, Your Grace. You can trust in Hammond to lead you safely to the pavilion. He’s been steward here for many years, as were his father and grandfather before him, to the Tyers-Barretts.”
The steward standing by kept his expression impassive, but his eyes betrayed him. They glittered with resentment as Mr. Gye spoke, and Hugh wondered if the new manager of Vauxhall had inspired some discontent among the workers here. Perhaps they had preferred to be overseen by the Tyers-Barretts.
“I do not doubt it,” Audrey replied tightly, likely maddened by the coddling. “However, I insist upon staying. Now, how would the victims have gained access to the gardens overnight? Is there no security?”
The mention of security gave Hugh something to latch onto. Harlan Givens had been security at the Seven Sins. Might he have been working here as well? The others hadn’t known him, but perhaps that was simply due to working different shifts.
“The grounds are patrolled throughout the night by private security. Hammond oversees all that,” Mr. Gye answered swiftly, as though vexed to have to do so.
Hugh peered at the steward. “And was Mr. Givens, the victim here, on your staff?”
The steward frowned. “He wasn’t. What would lead you to ask that?”
“Do not question the viscount, Hammond. You may go.” Mr. Gye waved his hand, motioning for his steward to leave. Hammond did, but not before sending his employer another black glare.
Mr. Gye sighed. “The gardens are not enclosed by any walls or fencing, so I suppose one could trespass if one dared to.”
“Were the other bodies found in this same state?” Hugh asked.
Mr. Gye blinked. “You mean, here? At the Cascade? No, they were out in the open, easy to find.”