The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,56

exclaiming in astonishment.

Fitzgerald beckoned to me. “Now try the other side.”

I stooped to gaze through the second hole, even while Eden continued with the first. Now I saw more rooms, but differently furnished, and which led, one after the other, to a garden. A dog, sitting upright nearly in front of me, watched me interestedly.

“Good heavens.” I stood up, touching the top of the box. “It is a masterwork.”

“Very clever, these Dutch chaps. Made nearly two hundred years ago, if you believe it.”

“Why did the man sell this to you?” I asked. “I’d not let this treasure out of my sight.”

“He was hard up, poor fellow. I paid him handsomely for it, never fear. Do you understand now why I feared losing it to a sailor who’d have no idea what it was?”

“I do indeed.” I caressed the box as Eden rose, then I couldn’t help resuming the seat to peer through the hole again.

“The customs agent who came to the ship seized it, of course,” Fitzgerald said. “I had to present a clear bill of sale, which I had. But it spent the night in their warehouse. I didn’t sleep a wink, worrying about the thing. Fortunately the customs men didn’t mar it. Or steal it.”

“It is enchanting.” I let myself be absorbed once more in the colors and the amazingly perfect perspective. “My oldest daughter would love this.”

I wanted more than anything to show it to Gabriella. Perhaps I could prevail upon Fitzgerald to allow us a visit when he settled so she could see it.

“I will keep an eye out for another if you like,” Fitzgerald offered. “These boxes are very old, and not many know what they are. I’ll hound the local art dealers, who might have tossed them into their back rooms as badly painted antiques.”

I thought of Denis. Much of his business was locating artworks for others, which was why he was so angry at Creasey for looting his shipment. If the antiquities Denis had lost were half as interesting as this little box, I understood his declaration of war.

“You are very kind,” I said. “I accept. You can write to me either at South Audley Street, or at the Pembroke house in Oxfordshire if you have any luck.”

Fitzgerald gave me a happy nod. “I like to see a keen admirer of art. What about you, Eden? What do you think of my little find?”

“It is dashed clever.” Eden lifted his brandy glass and raised it to Fitzgerald. “I suppose the ladies will be intrigued.”

“Let us hope.” Fitzgerald boomed a laugh. “I will look out for one for you, Lacey. That is, if you don’t land me in the dock for Warrilow’s murder. Then I suppose I could leave you this one in my will.”

“Only if you are guilty,” I said lightly.

Fitzgerald found this statement hilarious. “Juries are not always certain when a chap is innocent. If you do manage to have a man arrested for this crime, make sure he’s the right one, hey?”

“FITZGERALD IS A CONGENIAL FELLOW,” Eden said as we walked from St. James’s Street to Piccadilly. Brewster strode behind us, having materialized from the shadows as we’d exited White’s.

“Indeed.” I had ended up liking Fitzgerald, as exuberant as he was. “I’ve unfortunately met other congenial men—and women—who turned out to be thieves, fraudsters, or murderers.”

“I am aggrieved to hear it.” Eden shook his head. “I’d like to think that a man’s character isn’t so easily disguised.”

I heard a breathy mutter behind me but ignored it.

“I hope Fitzgerald showing me the box was not to distract me from believing him a suspect,” I remarked.

“Interesting that he said the customs agents held it, just as they took my things,” Eden mused. “I didn’t notice at the time, but I was arguing with them about my own baggage.”

“Well, we shall keep an eye on him. I can always ask the customs agent—Mr. Seabrook—whether his story is true.”

“I’d rather not go back to the Custom House, thank you very much.” Eden shuddered. “Here is a hackney. I will leave you, Lacey, and walk the few steps home. Thank you for joining me on a most pleasant evening.”

He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. Brewster hovered a few feet away, and once I took leave of Eden, he fell into step beside me.

“Ye seem chuffed, guv.”

I waited for Brewster to approve the hackney driver, which he did, and I bade him ride inside with me. I told him briefly about the meal with