The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,12
me on my unpleasant errand. I could hardly forsake you on yours.”
A gleam of interest entered Eden’s eyes as he released me. “Breckenridge, eh? I read of the death of Lord Breckenridge …”
“And I married his widow.” I touched my hat. “Well met, Eden, and good day.”
“You’ll not get away that easily, Lacey. I’ll have the story out of you another time.” Laughing, he climbed into the carriage, calling to the driver to take him to the Custom House on Lower Thames Street.
I watched the hackney roll away then continued around the corner to Russel Street, making for Grimpen Lane. Despite the rain, the square of Covent Garden beyond teemed with those shopping, bargaining, and calling out wares. The smell of greens, ripe fruit, and baking bread wafted my way.
Before I reached the narrow entrance to Grimpen Lane, Brewster came at me from the direction of Covent Garden.
“Guv, I have some news …”
“About Denis?” I drew close to him and lowered my voice, though I doubted we’d be overheard above the din from the market. “Spendlove told me. With barely concealed glee.”
“I don’t work for His Nibs no more,” Brewster said, “but I want to know what happened—what lout let a man with a blade close to ’im.”
“I am going in the same direction,” I assured him. “Shall we find our coach?”
HAGEN WAITED for us on Bow Street. I insisted that Brewster ride inside the carriage with me, and he did so with a show of reluctance, though I believe he was happy to get out of the rain. As we bumped our way along the Strand toward Charing Cross, I told Brewster what had transpired in Sir Nathaniel’s office.
“Huh,” was Brewster’s response. “Your man’s an officer and a gentleman, so of course he was let off. If they’d pegged me for the murder, I’d even now be in a cage heading off to await me trial.”
“You are a known criminal,” I pointed out. “Eden has no taint to his name. But I take your point. On the other hand, Sir Nathaniel did send Colonel Brandon to Newgate once upon a time, so your argument does not hold true for all.”
“Beg pardon, guv—your colonel might be gentleman-born, but he’s good at a lie.”
I had observed the same thing. “I’d say he was bad at a lie, as it only helped him get banged up. His wife sees through him, which is the most important thing.”
“Aye, Mrs. Brandon is a canny lady.” High praise from Brewster. “What happened to His Nibs today worries me. No one should have come nigh him.”
“How did you hear of it? That a Runner was informed—particularly Spendlove—does not surprise me, but there has scarcely been time for it to be printed in the newspapers.”
“And it won’t be. His Nibs can’t let it get about that someone attacked him and nearly succeeded in killing ’im. I heard because Lewis—one of his men—came looking for me to tell me.”
“He knew to find you in Grimpen Lane?”
Brewster shrugged. “Don’t matter I’m no longer your nanny for ’im—Mr. Denis knows every move you make. He’d have heard you were headed to Bow Street. Happens I was peckish and went out to the market, and Lewis found me there.”
“What did he say of the matter?”
“Very little. He was inside the house and didn’t see what happened, but His Nibs is angry.” Brewster shuddered. “I want to look in on him, but when he’s angry …”
“I know.” I had witnessed exactly what Denis could do when enraged. He rarely lost his temper and shouted as I did, but he could quietly cause very bad things to occur.
We fell silent as we went along Cockspur Street and Pall Mall, past the bulk of St. James’s Palace then north through the clubland of London to Piccadilly, and up a narrow lane to Curzon Street.
Denis resided at Number 45, a tall house of brown brick trimmed with white. I had seen only the ground and first floors inside the five-story house, whose windows at the top spoke of servants’ quarters.
We saw no sign of disturbance as we descended from the coach. I told Hagen to go home—he agreed only after much convincing. He slapped the reins to the horse’s back and the dark coach plodded away up South Audley Street, soon lost to the rain and mist.
“Let me, guv,” Brewster said as we approached the front door. Drapes had been pulled across the windows, giving us no view inside.