The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,65
from Brewster and was gone.
“They’re customs officials,” I said over the tumult. “Impossible to frighten them.”
“Unnatural.” Brewster feigned a shudder. “It’s why His Nibs don’t like dealing with them.”
“Let us see what happens when we simply walk in.” I led the way up the stairs I’d climbed with Eden, and to the office. The door was closed, and I knocked on it.
The spindly clerk who’d admitted us before stuck his head out, his expression turning more respectful when he saw me. “Mr. Seabrook is very busy, sir.”
“Who is it, Bristow?”
“It’s that captain from yesterday. And his … man.”
“Ah, good. Send them in. I need a holiday from this mess. Captain Lacey.” Seabrook stood as we entered, his piles of papers not noticeably diminished. “What brings you back to the Custom House?”
“A puzzlement.” I accepted his offered seat, though Brewster decided to stand next to the door, glowering at Bristow, the clerk, until the young man departed, shutting us inside.
Seabrook frowned. “Explain?”
“I might have evidence of a man smuggling guns from Antigua. Or I might be jumping to conclusions.”
Seabrook’s eyes widened. “Do tell, Captain. If you have discovered something that heinous, you are obligated to report it.”
“My thoughts precisely.” I then related how Brewster had found the carbine stashed under Mr. Warrilow’s floorboards and how Mr. Laybourne had reacted when I’d mentioned it. “What if Warrilow discovered Mr. Laybourne was bringing in a cache of weapons to sell, either here or on the Continent, took one as evidence, and threatened to report him? Warrilow might have decided to blackmail him instead of going to a magistrate, but in either case, Laybourne would have reason to kill him, or hire someone to kill him, before Warrilow could act on the knowledge.”
Seabrook quietly took a seat and pulled out a paper and pen. He dipped the pen in ink and made a note. “This is dire.”
“It is motive for murder.”
“Quite.” Seabrook shook his head. “This could be a very bad business, Captain. I thank you for alerting me. But I assure you, my men checked the cargo on the Dusty Rose thoroughly and found nothing of the sort.”
“Perhaps the guns disappeared, just as other cargo on your docks has.”
Seabrook grasped his pen between both hands. “A terrible thought. It is one thing to have crates of cocoa go astray, but not boxes of army carbines. Surely the captain of the ship would notice arms coming aboard.” He trailed off thoughtfully. “Unless he is in on it.”
“Not necessarily. Cargo is checked, but how thoroughly? Could a smuggler hide a few guns in boxes of, say, coffee? Layers of beans in the top and bottom, weapons in the middle? So that when a customs officer pulls off the lid and probes, he finds only the padding of coffee, or whatever the manifest shows the box should contain.”
“Yes.” Seabrook looked grim. “That has been done before, and we do keep a lookout for that, but some of these smugglers are dashed clever.”
“Why bother?” This from Brewster in the corner. “Why try to hide such things among legitimate cargo? Be easier to hire your own ship, slip it into a hidden cove, and unload it under the customs officers’ noses, with them being none the wiser … Begging your pardon, sir.”
The last was for politeness only. Brewster believed customs agents to be fools and had said so many a time.
“Such an endeavor would be expensive,” Seabrook said, taking no offense. “One would have to be certain the captain one hires won’t make off with the cargo and sell it himself. Brandy smuggling is rife and was uncontrollable during the war, but brandy isn’t as perilous as a carbine in the wrong hands.”
“Wouldn’t smuggle guns, me,” Brewster said. “Too dangerous by half.”
“You are right, sir,” Seabrook agreed. “One never knows if they’ll be used to overthrow a king or simply to cause general mischief.”
“The magistrates should know about Laybourne,” I said. “If I’m wrong, then he’ll be cleared.”
“Of course.” Seabrook nodded. “I’ll send word at once, before he can flee to—High Harrogate, you said? Sounds as though once he sells his stash he will retire to blissful life in the country.”
“He may have nothing to do with Warrilow’s death,” I said. “He was asleep at the time of the murder and has witnesses to say he took a dose of laudanum.” I wanted to clear Eden of the crime, but I had to be fair.
“I will keep this in mind. Thank you for your candor, Captain.”