The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,7
Brewster seized my arm.
“You’re not going to walk into Bow Street nick by choice, are ye?” Brewster demanded. “And face a magistrate what’s examined you before?”
“And found me guilty of nothing. Sir Nathaniel Conant is a rational man.”
“I’ll tell you this for nothing, guv. You go into a courtroom with a mate, trying to help, and the next thing, you’re banged up with him, accused of being his accomplice.”
I freed myself from his grasp. “As I know nothing of the matter, that is hardly likely.”
“Ye hired me to keep you out of trouble, guv. My advice is to leave it.”
“I’d listen were I you,” Pomeroy put in. He pushed past us and hoisted himself into the coach.
“You make an excellent point, Brewster. However …” I reached for the handholds on the side of the coach and pulled myself up and inside just before Hagen started the horses. “Go on home if you don’t have the stomach for Bow Street.”
Brewster’s glare was full of fire. His face creased into a snarl but he caught hold of the coach as it passed him and hauled himself onto the seat on the back.
We said little as we traveled from the river to Bow Street in Covent Garden. Pomeroy was pleased, as he’d receive a reward if a judge convicted Eden of murder.
Eden’s nervousness at the wharves and his request for advice became clear. He’d realized his arrest had been imminent, and he’d wanted my advice about it. I wondered if he’d seized the opportunity of our chance meeting to ask for help, or if he’d been searching for me. Any inquiry at the South Audley Street house would have told him where I’d gone.
We bumped along Fleet Street to the Strand, and from there north on Southampton Street to Covent Garden, past the opening to Grimpen Lane, where I still kept lodgings, and around to Bow Street.
The magistrate was already sitting, Pomeroy said, hearing cases for the day. He’d dismiss those he felt were trivial and send any criminal he thought dangerous to Newgate to await trial.
Brewster hopped off the coach and faded into the crowd on the street, never liking to be near a magistrate’s court. Pomeroy led us inside the tall house and up the stairs to an office I’d visited before. It was a place where the more genteel could speak to the magistrate, instead of being thrown in with the pickpockets, housebreakers, and game girls.
Pomeroy left us, telling us he’d be back with Sir Nathaniel directly.
“Lacey, please accept my apologies.”
Eden paced the room while I stood near the door, supporting myself on my walking stick.
“Please explain what you are apologizing for.” I tried a light tone. “So I can decide whether to forgive you.”
Eden tossed his hat to a chair and ran a hand through his thick hair. “I should have told you straightaway I was suspected of murder. I didn’t commit it of course.”
“Who was this man, George … ?”
“Warrilow. A bad piece of work if ever there was one. I had no idea he was dead until this morning. I’d been asked to return to the Custom House today to gather my belongings they’d seized to search—almost everyone’s baggage was taken by the excise men when we landed, as there was some worry about smuggling. They found nothing untoward about mine, and the customs officer was ready to hand my things back to me. But then I saw my name blazoned on a handbill, which did not half give me a turn, I can tell you. The custom officer must not have seen the bills, or he or his clerks would have kept hold of me, I am certain. I then heard men from the ship on which I’d sailed saying that some of their cargo had been stolen, and Warrilow was dead.”
A chill crept over me as I listened to his tale. Cargo theft, smuggling, murder, and Eden somehow had blundered into it.
“I decided to make myself scarce—my belongings aren’t important—and then I saw you—
His words cut off as Pomeroy banged open the door and ushered Sir Nathaniel Conant into the room.
Conant was the opposite of Pomeroy in every way. Where Pomeroy was robust and loud, Sir Nathaniel was elderly and quiet. He’d been knighted several years ago for his skill as a magistrate and contributions to various reforms of London’s thief-takers. I’d found him to be careful and intelligent. He reviewed evidence painstakingly and did not simply send a man to Newgate because it was