“Oh yes.” I gave a smile she did not notice. “He has been called many things.”
“Forgive my ill manner, but is he married?”
And at last she turned to look at me so that I had to struggle to keep my expression impassive. “He is not. Might you be available for me to return tomorrow morning then?”
“I attend church at nine, but you are welcome to come back between eleven and noon. A widower?”
“A confirmed bachelor. Then I shall see you just past eleven. Thank you.”
I hurried for the door but did not manage to make my way out fast enough before she could fling one more statement at me. “I have the most darling niece. . . .” she began to say.
“As do I, madam,” I lied as I quickly let myself out.
CHAPTER 17
The carriage depot was a hive of activity. Hansoms, landaus, hackneys, cabriolets, and even a few broughams rolled in and out of the huge warehouse in a clatter of horses’ hooves, jangling bridles, and bellowing voices. If someone was conducting this mêlée I could not tell, and yet it all appeared to be moving with a fluidity that was undeniable. For there were neither collisions nor quarrels around who was going where, with even the detritus left by the horses dealt with by a small group of boys who darted around the floor with such efficiency that there was barely time for the stream of great spinning wheels to become soiled before they headed out onto the streets.
The foreman, a gruff, hairy man named Rawley who was of diminutive height but spoke in a sonorous roar, did not bother concealing his contempt for me in the least. His dark eyes practically bored out of a beard that seemed to start somewhere beneath his collar and rose up almost to the tops of his cheeks, which was made worse by eyebrows so wild and overgrown that I had to wonder how he could see through them.
“I remember,” he was saying to Colin, his disdain wholly evident even though he had turned his gaze out onto the floor. “Watch yer bleedin’ arse, Mullen,” he suddenly shouted, “or I’ll have ya pickin’ up shite with them guttersnipes. They’re horses, not puppies, ya bloody arse.” He flicked his eyes back to Colin and his scowl actually deepened. “I tend ta remember when one a me men takes a fist from a customer.”
If I could have melted into the floor I would have eagerly done so.
“Your driver was willfully impeding a Scotland Yard investigation, Mr. Rawley, and even now it is fortunate that he has not been incarcerated for his collusion.”
“What?” Mr. Rawley glared.
“For helping the woman get away,” Colin snapped.
Mr. Rawley stared back at Colin, continuing to ignore my presence, and if he cared in the least about Mrs. Hutton’s escape he did not give the slightest hint of it. “He coulda lost a tooth,” he said after another moment. “He may still.”
“I hardly think you can blame the state of any man’s mouth on Mr. Pruitt. Now you will tell me where we can find this man or I will have the whole of Scotland Yard down here within the hour to audit every record you and your laudable company have ever set to paper.” It was a persuasive argument that instantly caught Mr. Rawley’s attention even though there wasn’t a whiff of truth to it.
“He’s in the little office up them stairs on the back wall,” he growled like some sort of feral beast. “He wanted nothin’ more ta do with yer street lout here,” he added, wagging his chin in my direction, though his eyes continued to avoid me.
“Very wise,” Colin sneered as he began to head for the back wall, moving with enough speed that I started to suspect he didn’t want to be caught laughing.
“You might counsel your men on the alliances they choose to make,” I scolded Mr. Rawley for no better reason than I was still mortified by what I had done as well as by his reaction to me. And then I hurried after Colin lest this man suddenly decide to exact his own revenge for his driver.
The open stairway led up some twenty-five feet or more, allowing an avian view onto the bustling scene below. There was a glass-walled office at the top with sliding windows where I could imagine Mr. Rawley shoving his head through to holler down whenever the need suited him. Certainly, he would miss nothing from this perch. But for some reason he did not accompany us up so that the only other person here was the driver I had struck. The poor man’s eyes were wide, and the left side of his jaw was mottled in red, orange, and a most unnatural shade of blue. Shame immediately washed over me as we continued to approach him, compelling me to furtively remove the pristine bandage Mrs. Behmoth had wrapped around my knuckles, which had suddenly begun to feel indecent. Quickly stuffing the soiled dressing into a pocket of my trousers, I followed Colin into the cramped glass office.
“You ain’t gonna hit me again . . . ?” the man pleaded in spite of his thick tongue and badly swollen jaw.
“I should never—”
“Don’t give him any reason to,” Colin hastily cut me off. “You’ve already seen how ill-controlled his temper can be.”
“I heard you was a bully,” he murmured, his eyes filled with accusation, “but I never thought ya’d lay inta a man wot was jest standin’ there.”
“A bully—?” I started to protest.
“Let us not forget that you are hardly an innocent man,” Colin interrupted me again. “You held the carriage door closed and allowed a fugitive from justice to escape. Remarkably bad form.”
“Who said I was a bully?!” I could not help myself.
“I didn’t know any such thing. She tol’ me you was threatenin’ her and she was afraid a you, and then she paid me ta hold the door shut if things went badly and she had to get away. Paid me a right tidy sum too,” he added, as though that would clarify everything. “I didn’t even know you was that poxy detective till you came in just now and Mr. Rawley spotted ya. Tol’ me right off who ya was and that I should stay here while he took care a things.” He scowled as he flicked his eyes between me and Colin. “I’d say he’s done a shite job a that.”
“And just who is it exactly that you think I am?” I continued to object with possibly more vitriol than was necessary.
The poor man’s eyebrows collided as he stared at me as if I had lost my mind. “Colin Pendergan.”
“Pendragon,” I corrected with satisfaction. “And that would be him.” I hooked a thumb at Colin.
“Well, then . . . who the hell are you?”
“Ethan Pruitt. I am Mr. Pendragon’s associate.”
The unmolested side of the man’s mouth curled down as he glared at me. “I mighta guessed he’d have some nob throw his weight around for him. But I ain’t done nothin’ wrong but help a lady out wot paid me ta do it. That’s all I know and that’s jest business.”
“And for that you can hardly be faulted.” Colin took a breath and I could feel his demeanor soften. “I hope you will forgive my man here. The issue is that our business with this woman goes all the way up to the very highest reaches of Scotland Yard. We believe she may be embroiled in as many as seven murders, including that of her own young son, so as I am sure you can understand, it is of the utmost importance that we find this woman. That is why my partner could not restrain himself earlier and it is the reason we are here now. You, my good man, may very well hold the key to this most gruesome case.”
The parts of the man’s face that were not already marred by bruising noticeably paled, leaving me struck by Colin’s sudden eloquence. “I didn’t know any a that,” he explained. “She were jest a woman I picked up wot said she were scared a some man and would I help her? She weren’t but a slip of a thing. Lovely. The kinda face ya ain’t likely ta forget. I felt sorry for her.”
“As you were meant to,” Colin assured him, sliding his eyes to me with a look that was intended to remind me how she had done the very same thing to me. “Where did she flag you down?”
“Off Park and Seymour. Right at Portman Square. She were out at the curb standin’ in the rain and she caught me eye. I said she were lovely. So I picked her up.”
“And where did she wish to go
?”
“Some flat in Kensington.”
“Kensington . . . ?!” I parroted, knowing that it was going to turn out to be our flat.
“Yeah. A building on Gloucester Road. Across from the skinniest damn park I ever seen. A good dog could piss from one side ta the other.” He chuckled. “The place weren’t nothin’ special.”
“And what did you do while you were there?” Colin asked, not deeming to notify this man that it was indeed our home he was talking about.
“We sat there for hours and waited, watchin’ the comin’s and goin’s like we had all day.” He shrugged. “Didn’t matter ta me ’cause she was payin’ fer me time same as if I were drivin’ her around.”
“And what did you see?”
“First, a great black carriage drove up and some old squire got out and went inside. Had ta be somebody high-flyin’ ’cause he had a crest on the side a his carriage like I ain’t never seen before with a lion and a griffin on it. Like he were royalty or somethin’.”
“He only thinks he is,” Colin muttered under his breath. “Then what did you see?”
“After a while the old guy came back out with some other bloke on his heels. I didn’t catch but a glimpse a him ’cause it were startin’ ta rain, and he looked like he weren’t happy ’bout somethin’, stompin’ his feet and slammin’ the carriage door. Made me wanna laugh, but the lady, she didn’t make a sound. The whole time she was jest sittin’ there, I couldn’t feel her movin’ at all, like she was testin’ herself or somethin’.”
“And then . . .” Colin continued to prod.
The driver’s eyes shifted to me and began to darken with his evident displeasure. “Then yer man here came out,” he said, gesturing to me with his chin. “Course I didn’t know it were him at first ’cause he were all hunched up under an umbrella. But that’s when the lady came ta life. Ordered me ta follow him, which weren’t easy in all that blasted rain, but I’m good at wot I do. Even after he got inta a cab I never lost him. Not even close.” The man stopped and gave a self-satisfied smile, clearly believing he had finished with his story.
“And . . .” Colin said for the third time, and now I could tell his patience had become brittle.
“We followed him ta Whitechapel. All the way down ta Shandy Street.” His eyes began to flick between me and Colin and I could see he knew he was being tested. “This one went in fer a bit and then came out all riled up. It were pourin’ and he were a helluva sight. And then he went round back, and the lady had me pull the cab inta the mouth of the alleyway and we watched him climb up the fire escape and let himself in the back winda. I knew you weren’t up ta no good. Sure as hell you weren’t up ta no good.”
Colin turned to me with a frown creasing his brow. “You broke into Mr. Nettle’s flat? You didn’t tell me that.”
“I was going to get to that part, but I hardly think now is the proper time.”
The driver gave a halfhearted laugh and I could see he was well pleased at this change in attitude. Nevertheless, I refused to let it bother me, given the damage I had already caused him.
“He weren’t all that long. Came back out the rear too, which was a good thing ’cause the lady was startin’ ta fret that we might lose him, and I weren’t interested in runnin’ from front ta back in that bloody storm no matter wot she was payin’ me. But he came out soon enough, and as soon as he turned onta Shandy again she had me pull over and pick him up. Right before we did was when she told me how she feared for her safety. That’s when she asked me ta hold him in the carriage at the end a their meetin’ so she could get away if she had to. And after wot I’d just seen him do, breakin’ into that old buggered building, I could see why she was worried.”
Colin heaved a wearied breath as he watched the man carefully. “Do you know where the lady was staying or where she was headed?”
He shook his head and winced, stopping the motion in an instant as he unwittingly retriggered my guilt. “Nah. She paid me before we picked him up.” He cocked a thumb toward me. “And when she run off . . .” He shrugged, and I knew there was nothing else to be said.
“You didn’t see where she went?”
“Down the street. Ducked inta the first alley on the right and then . . .” His eyes landed on me again. “This one came out swingin’ and I couldn’t tell ya nothin’ more.”
“There aren’t a lot of cabs that work down there,” Colin said. “If you brought her all the way from Marylebone and Oxford, somebody had to have taken her back. It would have been too far to walk in that rain.”
“I s’pose.”
“Will you speak with the other drivers?” Colin asked in such a way that it sounded less a request than an order. “It’s a very specific area and it only happened late this morning. And if the lady you described is as memorable as you say she is . . .”
“Well . . .”
“There would be a reward for proper information that assists us in finding her.”
“A reward?”
“We shall ask your Mr. Rawley downstairs to do the same thing,” Colin announced as he turned and headed for the door.
“All right then, but I’ll ask ya ta keep that one away from me.” He leered back at me.
Colin glanced around and gave the man a curious sort of stare, managing to look both deadly serious and yet somehow quietly amused. “Then you had best set yourself to accomplishing the task at hand with all due haste. I will certainly do my best to contain Mr. Pruitt, but I believe you are already well familiar with his temper.” He turned back and flung the door wide with noticeable bravado. “Why don’t you stop by the nothin’ special flat tonight that you spent so much time in front of this morning and bring us word of what you’ve managed to learn over the course of this afternoon. There is absolutely no time to be wasted.”
“Tonight?!” He looked startled at the very idea, as Colin had meant him to be. “Wait, why do I have ta go ta that place again?”
“Because that . . .” Colin called back as he started down the stairs, “. . . would happen to be our home.”
CHAPTER 18
Janelle Godwin lived in a small but scrupulously clean flat out in the Haggerston area on the east side of the city. As before, our driver had waited for us while we’d been at the carriage depot and had uttered nary a complaint when we had bade him take us by Freddie Nettle’s boardinghouse on the way to Miss Godwin’s. We had stopped just long enough for me to give the shrewd lad there a half crown to find Mr. Nettle and tell him that we wished to call upon him within a couple hours’ time. The boy had been only too happy to help, and was ever more heartened to learn there would be another half crown for him if Mr. Nettle was indeed available upon our return. I had every faith that he would succeed.
Mr. Nettle’s Whitechapel neighborhood proved a brief detour on our way to see Janelle Godwin. She immediately invited us in even though we had arrived unannounced and in the hours too late for tea but too early for supper. Nevertheless, she insisted on setting a kettle to boil despite our protestations, and by the time she brought the tea atop a well-used pewter tray, had even managed to hunt up a small plate of butter biscuits.
“I must admit I didn’t imagine I would ever see the two of you again,” she said, a quick flush coloring her pale, round cheeks as she added, “I don’t mean any offense. I simply meant . . .”
“No explanation needed,” Colin responded, waving her off with a warm smile. “Most people who meet us during the course of an investigation assume, if not desire, never to cross paths with us again. You can hardly be faulted for feeling the same. Which is why I must thank you for your kindness and hospitality in meeting with us now.”
“Think nothing of it.” She smiled as she poured tea for both of us and held it across. “If there is anything I can do for you gentlemen, you have only to ask. After all, the two of you are to thank for what justice was brought to young Willy Hutton. Such a poor little lad. All drawn into himself like he was locked inside his own head. He was a special
soul.” She eased back in her chair, and it was easy to see that she still grieved for the unfortunate boy she had attended when his own mother had been unwilling to do so.
“You are being too generous,” Colin replied grimly, “given that we failed in the completion of our duty. I am sure you are aware that Charlotte Hutton has yet to be brought to justice for her part in that ghastly case.”
“Oh . . . !” Miss Godwin shook her head and set her tea aside. “I read in the paper that Mrs. Hutton had gone missing on the Continent, and I feared that perhaps she and Anna had come to some harm as well. Now I see that you mean to infer something quite different.”
“Indeed.” Colin flashed a slight grin. “You must forgive the boldness of my statement, but it does not seem to me that you are particularly stunned by my insinuation. Might I be correct in presuming that perhaps you may have harbored some concerns with respect to Mrs. Hutton’s involvement in the deaths of her husband and son?”
“Oh . . .” she said again, though this time it was less with surprise than discomfort. “A mother could never be blamed for the death of her own child,” she stated resolutely. “However, the bonds that hold a marriage together can be tenuous at times.”
“I see.” He nodded as though she had honestly enlightened him in some fashion. “And what of the Huttons? What did you observe of them?”
“That would hardly be for me to say. I was brought into their home strictly to look after their son. My association with Mr. and Mrs. Hutton went no further than the aid I tried to bring to little William.”
“Yet you were in their home nevertheless,” he pressed, and as with every other conversation we had endured this day, I could tell his patience was already beginning to ebb.
“I only ever spoke with Mr. Hutton in the context of his son,” she explained.
“Then he was much involved in his son’s care?”
She shook her head, but there was neither censure nor condemnation in her expression. “The rearing of children is hardly the domain of gentlemen. I’m sure I needn’t tell you that. Are either of you fathers?” A warm smile softened her face.
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