The Guild Chronicles Books 1-3

by J M Bannon

  “Most people are scared of me, think I’m devil-sent. They don’t know what I have and worry that I’ll curse them if they cross me,” answered Rose.

  Jimmy smiled. “Yeah, that’s good. Real good. Nothing scarier than the fears people make up all on their own.” Jimmy walked to the door and turned before he left. “You aren't planning on seeing Weng Lo in the next few days, are you?”

  "No,” said Rose. “Good, I don't need him knowing what I am up to until it's done," answered Jimmy.

  “Your secret's safe with me."

  “I know. Anyway, you had best get moving. Your girlfriend Bertha is going to Nova Scotia on Sunday. You better get on her social calendar real quick.” He laughed at his own joke as he left the flat. "Ta ta, witch lady.”

  * * *

  7:55 PM, Meadhurst Manor

  Detective Williamson had arrived in the late afternoon at Holbrook, the closest train station to Meadhurst, a four-hour train ride from London. At the station, the Meadhurst chauffeur was on the platform to collect Dolly and his bags for the long drive to the manor house. Upon his arrival, his host was unavailable. He took some time to walk the gardens near the house and take in a short nap.

  Anytime he closed his eyes, he risked reliving the ordeal with Keane. Initially, he replayed the scene to see if he could have forced an alternative outcome where Keane survived. Other times, he would doze off and his nightmares would return, mingling events from his past. Rather than Keane, it was now Father Milton strangling him or Keane being burned alive, looming and laughing at him with the top of his head missing.

  Now Dolly was awake and preparing for a dinner with one of the richest men in England. He looked at himself in the mirror. His nose felt like it was finally healing, but both eyes had turned a deep purple. The valet handed him his pocket watch. He examined the pen knife and amulet he had attached to the fob. He tucked them in his waistcoat pocket. Out of habit, he popped open the worn case of his watch, gave the knob a twist to keep tension on the watch spring and glanced at the time. When he read the time of 7:55 PM, it hurt more than his nose or his throat, for around this time on a Friday he and Keane would be out on the town sharing tales and drinks. This was his first Friday night without his friend.

  What a difference from two days ago, when Dolly was covered in soot and fighting for his life. Now he was a guest of Sir Lester Chilton at the family manor, Meadhurst. He stood in front of a full-length mirror having another man help him dress. He was happy for the help from the valet. He didn’t want to stuff anything up and peppered the valet with questions regarding social formality and manners.

  “Mr. Williamson, you will do fine. Sir Lester and his family are the salt of the earth, and they take no benefit in making you feel foolish,” said the valet. “I appreciate it very much, Mr. Walker,” said Dolly.

  “I will mention it to Helmsley, the butler, to keep an eye on you so you don’t pick up the wrong spoon.” Both men chuckled at Walker’s joke.

  “I need all the help I can get. I’m just a common Scot earning a wage, not used to all this ceremony,” said Dolly.

  “You can repay me by catching the villain that murdered Sir Francis. There, you are all ready,” Walker said as he finished brushing lint off the jacket. “You can make your way down the stairs, where Helmsley will get you a drink. Most of the family will congregate in the parlor with the other guests just before dinner,” said the valet.

  Dolly thought he could use a drink and made his way downstairs to meet his host.

  Helmsley was at the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. Williamson, Sir Lester would like you to join him in the parlor,” said Helmsley.

  “Excellent. Show me the way.” The butler led Dolly down a long hall that echoed with the two men’s footsteps. At the end, he knocked then opened the door, stepping in ahead of Dolly to announce his arrival. “Sir Lester Chilton, your guest has arrived, Detective Sergeant Williamson.”

  “Thank you, Helmsley. That will be all,” said the young baronet. “Detective, can I fix you a whiskey?”

  “I’d love one, Sir Lester,” replied the detective.

  Sir Lester made his way over to the drink cart and filled two glasses from a crystal decanter. “I’d love one also, but don't tell anyone. This will be my second.” Lester’s levity lightened Dolly and made him feel a little less like a fish out of water. "Do you know the purpose of the butler’s introduction when you enter the room?” Lester asked as he handed Dolly the glass.

  "Thank you. I guess so everyone knows the importance of each man in the room?"

  Lester let out a belly laugh. “It's a courtesy to help everyone remember names in these social occasions,”

  “Here’s to better days."

  “Cheers,” said Dolly, taking a drink. “Mm... This is very smooth.”

  “It’s the peat. They filter the whiskey through,” said Lester as he held up the tumbler to the light and looked through the amber liquor.

  “Your home is splendid.” Dolly was at a loss as to what else to say.

  “Thank you. Meadhurst has been in the family for two hundred years. It was just two years ago that I persuaded my father to update the place. We have our own steam engine and generate electricity through a dynamo attached to it. That powers all the arc lights on the property. We have a type-wire line and voice lines within the house.” Sir Lester sat down on a sofa perpendicular to the massive hearth and signaled with his hand to the opposite sofa. “Please have a seat.” Dolly sat across from Chilton and set his glass on the low table between them.

  “I so do appreciate you coming up here to meet with me. I wanted to talk with you about—”

  Helmsley opened the door again. “Sir Lester, Mr. Randall Strathmore and Lady Anne Chilton and Lady Margret Chilton.”

  As the trio entered, Sir Lester whispered to Dolly, “After dinner, I would like us to meet in my study. I have something I would like to share with you in private.” He then changed the volume of his speech. “Detective Williamson, this is my wife, Lady Anne, and my sister, Lady Margret.”

  “And we have already met. Good to see you again, Detective,” said Randall.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Strathmore,” replied Williamson. He was unaware of Strathmore’s attendance.

  “As the rude Yankee, I will ask what the ladies are thinking. What happened to your face, sir?”

  Dolly laughed. “I hope it won’t put you off your meal.”

  “Oh no, sir, but it looks so very painful,” said Lady Anne.

  “What really hurts, and you will have to excuse the hoarse voice, is my throat,” shared Dolly.

  “I was on the scene at the Baden Gaswerks explosion, and there was an altercation between myself and another man. I would rather not share the gory details in mixed company.”

  Lady Anne implored. “Don’t spare us. We sneak into the penny dreadfuls when in London. It’s quite a rush to hear it from the front lines”

  Dolly was not going to share what happened. It was too gruesome and fresh. “Ladies, I came out a little worse for wear, but let me say the whole scene was horrific. with hundreds killed in the blast and more injured. Rest assured that we will find the perpetrators and bring them to justice.”

  “I hope that it won’t take you away from finding our father’s killer,” interjected Lady Margret.

  A bell rang.

  “Ah, dinner is ready for us,” said Sir Lester.

  A footman opened the pocket doors, and the group followed Sir Lester to the dining room.

  Sir Lester sat at the head of the table. His left was reserved for Detective Williamson. To Dolly’s left was Lester’s sister, Margret, and across from Lester, at the foot of the table. was Lady Anne. Between Anne and Lester and directly across from Dolly, Randall Strathmore took his seat.

  “Randall, what is this I hear of you leaving?” asked Lady Anne.

  “Yes, catching the train up to Birmingham for some business then to Sweden. I plan to take the Swedish royal air cruise to New York
next week after my business is concluded,” said Randall.

  “I hear that ship is mad with amenities,” replied Lady Anne.

  Randall was pleased to share what he knew about the ship. “Yes, it is the finest airship running. Prussian built, the absolute finest appointments, but I am taking it for the speed. It will berth in New Jersey in four days.”

  “We must try travel by airship, darling,” Anne said to her husband.

  Lady Margret changed the topic.” We were interrupted by the dinner bell, Detective. I think you were just about to tell us about our father’s case.” There was silence while Lady Margret waited for a response, and Dolly did the mental calculus on how he should answer.

  Sir Chilton interrupted. “Margie, this really isn’t the place for that conversation.”

  The detective had two doors to choose from now, the first to politely follow-on to Sir Chilton’s comment and stay on the civil and banal or take advantage of the situation and press the two men in mixed company. Dolly still had no idea why Chilton had invited him, but he was certain the likelihood of a second invite was low, so he had little to lose if the questions became too intense for the other guests. He slid off the napkin ring, placing the fancy linen on his lap. In front of him was a calotype menu listing eight courses. It would be a long night of fine food. He scanned the table setting with all the china and tableware. Why not add a few things to the menu? If his suspicions were right, one or both these men may have been involved. “If you’re comfortable with the subject, ladies, I do have some things to share on the case and your association with the Moya family that might shed some light” replied Dolly.

  Lester gestured to the ladies, in particular his wife, knowing his sister would not let go until she felt that the detective was doing his utmost to find the murderer. “Ladies?”

  “Oh yes, please do, sir,” Anne replied. Margret was being served the first course and turned from the footman to nod her agreement.

  “Continue, Detective,” said Sir Lester.

  “Let me begin by saying I have a main suspect that has been corroborated by two independent sources.”

  “Someone saw the murder?” asked Lady Margret.

  The detective continued. “Not an eyewitness, but reliable sources that have connected this person to the crime.” The footman filled Dolly’s soup bowl with a savory beef and vegetable broth. Dolly also started to serve up his dishes. “I had some questions for you, Sir Lester, about the night of Emilio’s murder. Why did he want to meet with you?”

  “He was asking to invest with Babbage and his lot and wanted to draw on funds,” answered Lester.

  “And you told him?” coaxed the detective, who was watching Randall.

  He had his eyes down, more absorbed with the soup than the conversation. “That I needed to familiarize myself with the investment and the conditions of investment in the trust. The Moya estate is complex, and the source and method of the investment would need to be evaluated.”

  “And how did he take your response?’ asked Dolly as he finished his soup. “He was not happy with my answer. He said that he would think about who would be the best trustee for the estate and his personal inheritance now that my father passed,” answered Lester signaling to have his bowl taken away.

  Dolly followed with another question. “So he was going to hold the trustee position over your head?"

  "I suppose, but it wasn't only his decision for the main trust. He would need his brother to agree," said Lester.

  The footmen next brought out smoked eel, starting with the ladies then moving to the head of the table. “Mr. Strathmore, when you met with Señor Moya later that night, did he ask you to take on the role of trustee?”

  “He did, and as we discussed earlier, we talked about other sources of overseas investment for Babbage,” answered Randall.

  “Randall, why am I hearing about this now?” asked Sir Lester.

  Dolly wondered if the revelation would sow some distrust between the two and he would see the true colors of one or both men.

  “With the news of his death, I thought it best to let it go and follow along with him to his grave. Lester, it may have just been his drink talking I met with him afterward to find out more about this Babbage opportunity.”

  Chilton stopped eating to give Randall his full attention. “Go on, Strathmore,” said Chilton.

  “There really isn’t more, Lester. I have clients in the States with the funds and the desire to invest that don’t give a tinker’s damn about the mechanist guild and their quarrel with Babbage, and they have money to invest. I saw a chance for the firm to make a nice fee syndicating an investment,” finished Randall.

  “Strathmore, if Moya weren’t dead, would you have entertained becoming trustee?” “Lester, I would not support Emilio’s ploy to leverage control over the steward. However,

  there is a certain logic that a family with almost all of their holdings in the western hemisphere should have a trustee in the same.”

  “The eel is delicious, Lady Anne,” said the detective.

  “Our cook has been here for decades. I don’t know what I would ever do if she decided to leave us. Wait until you see what she has prepared for our dessert,” replied the Lady. “Mr. Strathmore, you’re not having any?”

  “It does not agree with me, thank you,” replied the Yankee.

  Dolly thought to himself that at least he doesn’t eat his own kind then he spoke. “When was the last time either of you talked with Hernando Moya?” The two men looked at each other, waiting for the other to answer.

  Finally, Chilton committed. “I have not seen Hernando in over a year.”

  When he finished Randall, continued. “I have had some wires and letter correspondence, but I have not seen him for at least a year. I would need to look at my diary, but it would have been a visit to Haiti because of business.”

  “Well, I have what may be some startling news. French authorities have advised me that Señor Hernando Moya was murdered in April of this year.”

  The smell of smokey fish was overtaken with the buttery herb aroma of chicken fricassee presented with rice. Carrots and green beans served as a mixed vegetable dish. As the main courses were served Dolly, continued. “When we met before, Mr. Strathmore, you suggested that Hernando may have been behind his brother’s murder out of envy and greed. Now that we know that Hernando was killed prior to his brother, who could benefit?”

  “Lester, have you reviewed the documents?” asked Randall.

  “I have” he replied.

  Dolly watched the two men interact. He was looking for tells on either of the men.

  Lester scrunched his chin and brow, thinking, then spoke. “There will be details for sure, small disbursements here and there, but the bulk of the fortune remains in the trust of Don Ernesto and goes to the benefit of heredity. While the holdings are international, the trust was formed under English law and will be adjudicated in the United Kingdom.”

  “This gets back to your question, Lady Margret, as to your father’s murder. Evidence points to a woman that had dealings with the Moya family in Haiti. The French colonial authority believes that she was a runaway slave from the Moya plantation. If their murders were revenge for their treatment of her, that does not answer why she would murder Sir Francis. And that begs the next question. Are other partners at the firm in danger of her revenge?” Dolly let that sit with the group and ate some more of his dinner. He called upon the footman. “Could I get another roll? You know the butter here is so much better than the rancid stuff in the city.” The whole time he talked, his eyes moved about the table to measure reactions.

  Lady Anne spoke. “Are my Lester and Randall in danger, sir?”

  “I would say that depends on if the killer got what she really wanted out of that vault?” Dolly kept in mind the note the killer had left and her warnings to leave her to her escape, but he needed to know if she had help from within the partnership. Chilton’s death was still a nagging question to him. />
  Sir Lester placed his utensils on his plate and took his napkin off his lap but had barely eaten his main course. “Gentlemen, please join me in the study for a drink and a cigar?”

  Was that it? “That sounds like a terrific idea,” said Dolly. But I won’t have that meeting unarmed. “If I may be excused, I am going to go up to my room for a moment. I have some tablets I need to take for the pain, or I will be visited by a throbbing headache.”

  Lady Anne broke in. “Oh, Detective, you can’t leave yet. There is a pavlova with summer berries for dessert.”

  Dolly sat back down and replaced his napkin. “I wouldn’t want to miss the pavlova.” Chilton’s confidences could wait until after dessert.

  * * *

  10:30 PM, Meadhurst Manor, Sir Lester’s Private Study

  The gentlemen were in the study having cigars and brandy. Dolly did have tablets to take, but he also grabbed his two-barrel 0.47 caliber Lancaster and placed it in the small of his back in his waistband. He wanted to make sure if the meeting in the study revealed a co-conspirator he would be prepared. It was a horror to be sitting on the gun, but he had no other options to be safe and discrete. The pain of the pistol in his back was a constant reminder to pick up a smaller caliber gun he could also sport as a second.

  Their talk turned away from the Moyas and focused on politics and who might be behind the explosion at Baden.

  Randall Strathmore stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray then groaned and lifted himself out of the chair. “I smoked that fella way past where it lost its taste, but even bitter it was a fantastic smoke. I have an early day tomorrow to make my train to Birmingham. Good night, gentleman.”

  “Good night, sir,” said Sir Lester, spinning his brandy in its snifter. This was his third, and the Scotch and wine over dinner had left Lester in his cups.

  “Good evening, Mr. Strathmore, and safe travel on that airship of yours,” said the detective.

  Strathmore took the last swig from his glass and made his way out.