The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,44

herself. Grenville was no fool, and he’d have chosen an area where they could have a modicum of peace.

If Grenville were here, we would discuss the mysteries put before us, dividing up the tasks and interviewing those close to the crime. I would write to him of all this tonight, including asking about the Mr. Fitzgerald Eden had mentioned.

We would visit Grenville soon, I told myself. I looked forward to viewing Grenville’s home, and cursed Denis again for deciding to bring danger down on us all. Though Creasey had promised to spare Brewster and to leave me alone, I certainly did not trust the man to keep his word.

When we reached Curzon Street, Brewster climbed down from the top of the coach, helped me descend, and sent the driver onward.

Denis was not at home. The butler, Gibbons, opened the door a crack and informed us of this.

“We’ll wait,” Brewster said.

Gibbons scanned the street before he condescended to pull open the door. Behind it, four men were poised, I suppose to make certain we’d not been sent by Creasey as decoys to get us inside Denis’s house. When no one swarmed down the road to push in behind us, Gibbons relaxed a fraction—an expression very difficult to discern—and quickly closed and locked the door.

He led us to a cold reception room decorated in pristine whites highlighted with gold. Denis did not keep his masterpieces of art in this room where anyone might be admitted, but the chairs, paintings, and candelabras were nonetheless impressive and obviously costly.

I perched on the edge of a graceful settee, leaning on my walking stick. Brewster would not sit, but folded his arms and stared at the herringbone pattern of the wooden floor, still annoyed with me.

“They did not give me much choice,” I told him. “I sent Eden off in the exact hope that he’d find you, which he did. If Creasey had wished to harm me, his men would have killed me the moment they took me inside.”

Brewster lifted his head, his eyes flashing in a glare. “He’s a snake in the grass. Never have truck with him again.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, snapping off a salute.

“You joke, but I’m not wrong. He’ll lure you in, then snap you up.” Brewster brought his hands together in a loud clap.

“I’m not as naive as all that, Brewster. I know he’s a bad man, and I won’t forgive him for sending men after you. I’ll not go to him tamely.”

“Not tamely, but you will. He’s got ice in his veins, that one. He doles out violence as easily as he sips his breakfast tea.”

I’d thought the same of Denis many a time, but I believed it more strongly of Creasey. Denis was a thoughtful man, only striking when he had to. Creasey struck for the fun of it, akin to the way he played chess. He enjoyed the game but intended to win.

“He agreed to leave you be,” I said. “But like you, I do not trust him. Perhaps Mrs. Brewster ought to also be a guest in our house, for her safety.”

Brewster shook his head. “You’re house ain’t safe, guv. Not with the likes of Creasey knowing where you live. Em knows how to look after herself. She’ll keep out of his way.”

“Are you certain she’ll be well?” I asked in concern. “With you hovering over me instead of home protecting her?”

He snorted. “Em’s known the London streets since she were a lass. She’s much shrewder than you are, more canny too. She’ll be all right.”

Having met Mrs. Brewster, I knew that she was most capable. Even so, I would not like to see her drawn into Creasey’s machinations.

I wanted to argue further, but under Brewster’s warning stare, I decided to change the topic.

“What did you find out about Mr. Laybourne? Aside from where he resides? Which is immensely helpful. Thank you.”

“Don’t try to talk me ’round, guv. How your lady wife puts up with you, I don’t know. I found Mr. Laybourne easily enough. Fellows at the Custom House know ’im. He used to be a customs clerk then went off to do the same in Antigua. Couldn’t stick the heat and caught the ague. Recovered, but it made him sallow and sickly. So he came back here to restore his health. Huh.” Brewster glanced upward as though at the gray sky we could not see. The room had no windows.

“Whether you rein in your anger at me or not, this is helpful knowledge,” I said.