The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,38

hair slicked back from his high forehead, a pointed chin, and eyes that had seen plenty of smugglers striving to outwit him.

His words were delivered with sincerity. I wondered if he were simply congenial, or if it had been a pleasure to deal with the affable Eden instead of surly captains annoyed that they’d been caught trying to sneak in extra barrels of brandy.

“This is Captain Gabriel Lacey,” Eden said. “An old friend. I have at last come to collect my baggage.”

“You will stay this time while it is retrieved?” Seabrook’s dark eyes held a twinkle.

“I had a pressing matter to attend to yesterday,” Eden said glibly.

“I hope that matter has been cleared up. I noticed no more handbills with your name on them this morning.”

“Yes, that was a relief. Nothing to do with customs and my baggage.”

“No, no.” Seabrook called to the clerk who’d shown us in. “Fetch Major Eden’s things and be quick about it.”

“Sir.” The clerk saluted and disappeared.

“I have half a mind to take myself to the colonies,” Mr. Seabrook said after the waft of the young man’s passage had faded. “To warm my bones after a lifetime of working on the Thames.” He trailed off wistfully.

“It’s hot and musty most of the time,” Eden told him. “But the shores are beautiful. Still, England is home.”

“Ha.” Seabrook’s melancholia faded. “Says a man with the means to travel. Here I sit in the cold dampness of London. Men from all across the globe come through these doors, and I rarely leave the City.” Seabrook shook his head, then clicked his tongue against his teeth and grinned. “I have a decently paid post and am glad of it. Are you a traveler, Captain?”

“I do enjoy it,” I admitted. “The little I’ve done that wasn’t to fight a war, that is. Do you see much cargo from Egypt?”

“Egypt? Not I. I have the shipments from the Antilles and the Americas. Rum, cotton, spices, cocoa, that sort of thing.”

“Ah.” I sought any excuse to talk about Egypt, but I tamped down my eagerness. “I have heard about shipments that have gone missing.” I continued to wonder if they were connected to Warrilow’s death, in spite of Eden’s belief that the man had been killed by someone he’d enraged. “Were those from the Americas?”

Seabrook’s dark eyes went cold. “I’ll thank you not to speak too much of it, sir. The thieves have confounded us, and yes, much of what is stolen is from the Americas. Valuable cargo that disappears as though it never existed. Someone making fools of the excisemen.”

“You check all the ships as they come in, don’t you?”

“Indeed. No one goes ashore or offloads cargo until my men have gone over the ship, and the captain and cargo master have signed the forms.”

“Why did you take Major Eden’s belongings?” I asked. “Surely you did not suspect him of smuggling.”

Seabrook slanted me a wise glance. “You’d be surprised, Captain, what innocuous persons like Major Eden try to slide into the country. My lads were being thorough. We waylaid about half that cargo, as we’d had a hint that it was poached. Good thing we did, as some of the rest of it vanished from its warehouse. Fortunately, Major Eden’s things were found to contain nothing but what a man needs to keep himself, and we have no reason to hold them.”

As he finished, the young clerk returned bearing two valises and a large wooden box with a lock. The clerk handed Eden a key.

The collection represented very little for the years Eden had spent trying to earn a living in Antigua. Nothing that would warrant him visiting the cargo hold as much as possible to check on his belongings. He could have stashed these under his bunk, and the box could have made a decent night table.

Then again, space was tight aboard ship, and perhaps he’d been commanded to stow his things below.

Eden rose. “I thank you, sir.” He held out his hand, and Seabrook shook it. “Hopefully, we shall not meet again, at least not under these circumstances.”

Seabrook chuckled. “I understand you, Major. Happy to have made your acquaintance, Captain.” He shook my hand as well, then I reached for a valise to assist Eden to carry his things out.

“No, no,” Eden said. “I’m used to hoisting them around.” He tucked the box under his arm and lifted a valise in each hand.

The clerk opened the door for us. I gestured Eden out first, as he staggered under his