by Anne Mallory
“I’m just going by the Runner’s Code.”
“The Runner’s what? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Are you a Runner?”
“No.”
“Well, there you go.”
“I think neither are you.”
“Course I am. Wouldn’t know the Runner’s Code otherwise, now would I?” He waved a hand as they neared the inn door.
“You struck me as a charlatan yesterday, and nothing has yet to change my impression.”
“I’m wounded, Kate.”
“Don’t call me that!” She was starting to remind him of a cat—cute, cuddly, and with hair bristling in every direction.
“If you stop calling me a charlatan, I may remember not to call you Kate.”
She paused with her hand above the knob. “Duly noted.”
They walked back into the inn, a crowd of anxious faces greeting their return.
“What did you find?”
“How’d he die?”
“Who did it?”
Kate looked across the sea of faces and shivered as she removed her coat. Christian held up a hand to silence the crowd.
“Folks, please calm down. We are all stuck in the inn for today and tomorrow at the very least. I’m sure Mr. Wicket would be more than happy to accommodate anyone in the taproom. Billiards, cards, dice, backgammon, and refreshments will be available. I’m going to begin a room-to-room search, and it would be better to have everyone down here.”
“Why?” Mr. Desmond demanded. “What do you hope to find?”
“Well, isn’t it obvious? Someone murdered Julius Janson. We need to determine if one of you did it.”
“Now see here—”
“I ain’t murdered nobody—”
“Not having some two-bit Runner go through—”
“We’re trapped with a murderer?”
“What happened to Julius?”
“Will I still get to test my invention?”
Everyone turned to Nickford, who smiled brightly.
Christian looked unnerved for a moment. “Er, if we rule you out as the murderer, yes.” He cast a glance around the room. “Right, then, I’ll start the search and Mr. Kaden can take statements.”
Desmond looked irritated and Lake’s expression was unreadable.
“Hold a minute. Shouldn’t you take statements too?” someone asked.
“Yes, send the boy to search the first rooms, I want to talk to you,” Mr. Crescent said importantly.
“What if the boy goes up there to poach our things?”
“Too true. Send the Runner.”
“What if the Runner poaches our things?”
Christian had the gall to look affronted. “I’ll have you know, Runners don’t poach.”
“But how’re we to know?”
“You need to have faith in your law enforcement.”
Kate’s brows drew together. “We should really have someone else with us when we search, at least until everyone can return to their rooms. That way people can be relieved of their concerns.”
“Capital idea, boy!”
Christian looked irritated. “I assure you, that’s not neces—”
“Send the boy and someone from the inn with the Runner.”
Christian glared at Mr. Crescent, who, Kate noticed, had the presence of mind to back up a step. “If you say one more word about this investigation, Mr. Crescent, I can assure you that things will not be pleasant.”
But it was too late, as others murmured their agreement with Crescent’s plan. Christian scowled and searched the crowd. “You, boy, over here.”
Kate watched as a wide-eyed Benji, a twenty-year-old servant who was standing with Mary, Sally, Bess, Daisy, and several male servants, shuffled forward. “Yes, sir?”
“You will be assisting us.” Christian turned to the innkeeper, authority underscoring his voice. “Keys, Mr. Wicket?”
“Should I be going with you as well, Mr. Black?”
Christian waved off the innkeeper. “No, no, this fine lad will do. In the meantime, you’ve the inn to run and people to tend. Just remember my instructions from earlier—no one is allowed in or out of the inn. I trust you to find a good excuse if someone outside should ask.”
Mr. Wicket quickly handed over the key ring.
Christian walked from the room, with Kate hurrying to catch up, and Benji trailing awkwardly behind.
“What is the plan?” she asked.
“First we are going to change out of these wet clothes, and then we will search Mr. Freewater’s room,” he responded, climbing the stairs.
“Why his room? We know he was there all night.”
“Do we? I, for one, do not.”
“The man was making enough racket to wake the dead.”
“Or make the dead.” He flashed a brilliant toothy grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
She frowned. “This isn’t funny.”
“I know. I’ve gone and ruined my boots.” He made a production out of examining them before searching for the room key.
“You aren’t a Runner. I know you aren’t. You could get into a lot of trouble posing as one.” She glanced over her shoulder as he opened the room, but Benji was lagging behind and had just reached the top of the stairs.
“Benji, is it? Could you get us some paper and ink while we change?” Christian asked.
The young man nodded and hurried away, seemingly very glad to be leaving.
Christian entered their room. “Who said I wasn’t a Runner? And if you don’t want to be involved, don’t be. I don’t remember inviting you along to search rooms. That fool Crescent did.”
She shot him a dirty look. “You are the one who brought me into this by making me a scribe for your mad scheme, whatever it is. And besides, unlike you, I want to know what happened.”
“Why?” He was already stepping out of his clothes. Kate quickly turned her back, caught off guard by both the question and his state of undress.
Why did she care? Perhaps because last night she might have seen the murderer with Janson on the balcony. That gave her cause. But she cared little about Janson himself, so that was not reason enough. Justice? She had always been a proponent, but had never involved herself in its workings before. Was it because Christian had gotten involved? She firmly pushed that thought away. Irritating man.
Or perhaps her motivation was to put closure to some element of her life, as she had thought earlier? She shut her eyes. She just wanted to feel happy again. She just needed some spark to keep her going.
She finally responded. “Someone has to care.”
He snorted. “No, someone does not. Have you ever been to London? There’s an entire town full of people who don’t care.”
“Oh, really, that is quite a ridiculous statement.”
“You can turn around now, Kate. And that would be a no to my question. You would think otherwise had you been there.”
“I’ve been to London,” she scoffed, moving from one foot to another to try and avoid the snow turned to slush that sloshed in the bottom of her boots.
“Really.” It was a sardonic statement instead of a question.
“More than once.”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“I have! My aunt rents a house for the season. I have visited her there several times.” She gave up and hastily removed her wet boots and rummaged through her portmanteau for some extra hose.
“Part of the ton, is she?” he asked casually while pulling on a dry pair of boots.
Kate found a pair of hose and wished Christian to the other side of the inn so that she could put them on. “She attends some events. She spends a week there during the holidays as well, before returning to the country.”
“Going to meet her in London, were you?”
Christian didn’t look up, so she gaped at the top of his head instead. “How’d you know?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. But you are on the coaching road to London, traveling in disguise. Wha
t, did your father want you to marry the gnarled vicar?”
“My father is dead,” she said stiffly.
He straightened, his eyes boring into hers, unreadable. “My sympathies.”
His face was closed and she couldn’t detect from his tone of voice if he was being sincere. “Please wait outside while I dress.”
He rose, and she was startled to see his features change abruptly, a flippant mask sliding into place. “No chance for a quick tumble to warm our blood?”
“No. Out.”
He gave her a lazy smile as he left. She stared at the door, unnerved for a few moments, before gathering her clothing together.
She changed quickly and walked into the room next door to find Christian already rifling through scattered books and papers. Freewater’s room was a mess.
“What are you doing?”
Christian stopped probing through the bureau drawers and looked up. “Freewater is a member of a less than reputable publishing press in London. I’m trying to ascertain if he is up to anything beastly.”
His voice was full of disdain, and she blinked. “What difference does that make?”
He muttered something she couldn’t quite catch. She decided to ignore him for the moment as she picked through a few belongings on the side table.
“So what are we looking for? A weapon, a motive?”
“Oh, anything that might prove incriminating. You don’t happen to see any journals other than these, do you?”
She gazed around the room. There were dozens of journals. She absently opened one. “What does Freewater need all of these for? Is he a writer?”
He shrugged carelessly, although there was an underlying tension to the action. “Perhaps. See if you can find any more.”
She complied. If nothing else, perhaps humoring Christian and his obsession with Freewater might expedite their search of the man’s room and move them into another sooner. She was certain that Freewater hadn’t done it.
Benji finally returned with ink and paper, and Christian set him to searching floorboards and walls as well. It was a bit cramped with the three of them, and as this was one of the larger rooms, she had little doubt that when they reached the smaller ones their searching strategies would have to change.
She was interested to see how Christian would proceed with the investigation.
She searched under the bed and said casually, “I saw two people on the balcony last night around two. One looked like Janson.”
Christian’s head shot up and his voice held a spark of interest. “Can you describe the other person?”
“It was a man, taller than the one I thought was Janson. I couldn’t see very well.”
“Well, Janson wasn’t very tall, so there are three or four men here at the inn who would fit—Desmond, Lake, Tiegs…Perhaps Gordon or that other servant, Elias. Could have been a servant bringing him something.”
Kate was reluctantly pleased by his assessment. Although his attitude might be suspect, Christian’s intelligence seemed quick.
“Hmmm…could have been.”
“Benji, what is the other male servant’s name? The one Gordon said lives above the stables?”
“You mean Tom, sir?”
“Thank you. You and Tom are too short, so you’re off the hook for now.”
Christian give Benji a teasing smile, but Benji was wide-eyed and looked horrified. She felt a stab of pity for the poor man.
“Benji, do you know if anyone on the staff served Janson last night out on the gallery?” Christian asked.
“No, sir. Perhaps you should ask Mrs. Wicket.”
“I will. The man could have been Lake. Man was out for blood last night.”
Kate bit her lip. “I heard them arguing prior to going to bed.”
Christian narrowed his eyes as he flipped through the pages in each journal. “What about?”
Kate caught Christian’s gaze and looked at Benji’s bent head. It was going to be quite awkward talking about certain topics in front of one of the servants.
Christian nodded his understanding. “Benji, do you think you might ask Mrs. Wicket if she sent any of the servants to Janson while he was on the gallery? Especially around two in the morning?”
“Of course, sir.” Benji withdrew from the room.
She heard his footsteps disappear downstairs.
“They were fighting about Mary.”
Christian looked unsurprised. “They fought over her like two cocks. That’s what precipitated the fight in the taproom. Could be that Lake finally saw his chance.”
“Julius Janson was not the nicest of fellows.”
“Most of us aren’t.”
Kate was uncomfortable thinking about the conversation between the two men. “Lake threatened him after he said some…rather awful things about Mary.”
A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. “The man was a right bastard, so I can only imagine. There’s a difference between wit and crudeness. Also differing levels of bastardy. Can’t imagine the man had many friends.”
“The Wickets seem—seemed—awfully fond of him, though.”
“The innkeeper is not the brightest of men.” He let his gaze wash over her boy’s clothing in a pointed fashion.
Kate swallowed at the look in his eyes as they locked back onto hers. “Don’t you think we should search another room? Freewater is not exactly suspect.”
Christian turned to glare at the knobby desk in the corner. “There’s nothing else here,” he muttered, irritation in every crease of his face.
“What did you expect?”
He waved her off. “We need to search the people too.”
She stared at him, her mouth dropping slightly. “You think the murderer just brought the weapon he used down to breakfast?”
Christian shrugged. “You never know.”
Benji huffed back through the door. “Mrs. Wicket said that no one was sent to Janson after midnight.”
“Thanks, Benji. What is the atmosphere in the dining room? Anyone getting anxious?”
Benji looked uncertain. “Mr. Crescent was particularly interested in what was happening up here. Mary said he had cornered Mr. Freewater earlier and badgered him about something. And of course Mr. Desmond is especially upset.”
Christian’s face became pensive. Benji watched him anxiously, and even Kate held her breath, though why she was holding her breath she couldn’t say.
“We should search the Crescents’ room next.”
Surprise ran through Kate. She had little doubt they would find anything more than drab yet officious clothing.
Sure enough, between the three of them they discovered nothing of interest in the Crescents’ room. Christian appeared agitated. He hadn’t even made an inappropriate remark in the past hour, and that said something about his state. Surely he hadn’t expected to find anything of value?
“Benji, are you sure you lowoked under the tick? Mattresses make excellent hiding places. No heavy poles or crops? Not even, perhaps, a journal?”
“Mr. Black.” Kate gave him a pointed stare. “We have searched this room three times. We searched through Freewater’s nigh on five times. I don’t know what you expect to find. A loose floorboard? A sign proclaiming where the weapon is hidden?”
Christian cast a speculative glance at the floor and Kate threw her hands up. She was tired of his single-mindedness. She would never have guessed the man would be so thorough. It would be a good trait if expressed in any way other than his obsession with the two rooms they had searched…two rooms at the very bottom of the suspect pool.
She marched forward to tell him so, but a knock at the door stopped her in place.
“Enter,” Christian called out.
Sally opened the door, and Kate’s eyebrows rose as color flooded Benji’s cheeks. The inn was turning into a veritable feast of potential lovebirds. “Pardon me, Mr. Black, Mr. Kaden, Benji, but Mr. Wicket would like to know when the patrons can return to their rooms.”
Christian g
ave the floorboards one last frustrated glance. “Tell Mr. Wicket that we will be down in ten minutes. Thank you, Sally. Benji, you can go with Sally. Please report what we talked about to the Wickets. Thank you for helping.”
Benji was hot on Sally’s heels, as he hightailed it from the room.
Christian leaned his head against the wall. “Well, we should get downstairs and search Freewater and Crescent to make sure they aren’t hiding anything.”
“They aren’t hiding anything, Mr. Black.”
His brows rose at the irritation clear in her voice. “How do you know, Mr. Kaden?”
“It doesn’t make any sense. You are just making things difficult for them because they are miserable men you obviously dislike.”
“If that were true, Desmond’s room would be upside down by now.”
“Desmond is a much more likely suspect.”
Christian’s full lips thinned. “Perhaps. Let’s go downstairs, search a few people, and call it a day.”
“What?” Kate felt cold. All of the positive traits she had recently attributed to Christian Black withered under the growing storm of anger, something that never seemed to be in short supply for her lately. The man was an utter cad, just as she had first suspected.
“Search a few people, then give up and do something else?” She felt the need to clarify.
He winked, his façade once more in place. She was far, far from being amused.
“I knew you weren’t a Bow Street Runner, but I didn’t realize what a charlatan you really were,” she said evenly and firmly pushed her disappointment aside.
He raised a brow. “What is your point, Mr. Kaden?”
She raised her chin at the jab. “Fine. Search a few people and then be on your merry way. I will solve this on my own. Good day, Mr. Black. Please have the courtesy to keep your merry way far from mine.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think you can solve Janson’s murder on your own?”
“I will solve it.”
“Why do you even care? And don’t give me that drivel about how someone has to care. I could give you plenty of instances of that statement being utterly false.”
She noted the bitterness in his voice, but it was drowned by the earlier thoughts of why she wanted to find out what happened to Janson.
“I want to see justice done.”
He snorted. “Justice probably was done. We both agreed that Janson wasn’t exactly a pillar of the community.”