“I’m sure your mother is proud,” Colin muttered.
The man’s brow caved in, an expression that seemed far more customary than his gregariousness, and then he broke out in a laugh that sounded as false as his prior gusto had been. “Very good, Mr. Pendragon. Perhaps I have pushed the point a bit far.”
“Let me be honest, Mr. Vandemier—”
“I would expect nothing less.”
And without even realizing it Warren Vandemier had handed Colin the freedom to proceed with the delicacy of a charging rhino.
“Very well.” He flashed a tight smile as he quickly tipped his shiny silver crown back into his vest pocket. “Then we should like to dispense with this twaddle and hear about your opium business.”
“Opium?!” The man’s eyes popped so unnaturally wide that it looked as though a charge of lightning had ripped through him. “Opium?!” His voice squeaked again. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a narcotic, Mr. Vandemier. Derived from the poppy.”
“I know what it is.” He frowned, pushing himself to his feet in a great blustering display. “But I find your inference to be an offense.”
“We are not fresh from the womb, Mr. Vandemier. Please do not suppose you can deceive us with your hackneyed indignation.”
“You have no reason to accuse me,” he blustered, but with less vigor.
And this time I knew it was my turn to speak up. “When I was a foolish lad,” I said in as cavalier a tone as I could muster, “I lived for a time just around the corner on Limehouse. For room and board I did the bidding of a woman whose opium club was the most prominent in the city. So let me assure you that I can smell its residue in your hair and clothing, and given your heavy-lidded look, I would say that your last use of it was less than two hours ago.”
“You worked for Maw Heikens?!”
“I did,” I answered brusquely, aware of Colin’s disapproving glare on the side of my face.
“Then you’ve got nothin’ on me!” Vandemier snapped. “Room and board my ass.”
“Look,” Colin interrupted with evident distaste, “I really don’t give a good bloody hell how you earn your living. I just want a few answers to some simple questions.”
“Well, just because I run an opium club doesn’t make me a murderer,” he shot back.
“A murderer?” Colin glared at him. “Have I accused you of being a murderer?”
Mr. Vandemier narrowed his eyes as he glared at Colin. “I know why you’re here. I know what you think.”
“You know what I think?!” Colin replied, glancing at me with a smirk. “I’d bet my life that you don’t.”
“I had nothing to do with Samuel’s death . . . or that whore niece of his, either.”
“A man who’s not afraid to have an opinion.” Colin’s smile disintegrated. “May I remind you that I’ve not accused you of anything. We have only come here in search of some information.”
“Well, there’s nothing for you here. Samuel and I had our disagreements over the years, but I sure as hell didn’t want him dead. Do you know that he owed me money? That old sod was into me for a pretty pound.”
“Was he . . . ?”
“Damn right he was! Seed money, Mr. Pendragon. We’d just opened the club. The finest supplies, private rooms for the wealthiest patrons, the most beautiful women to tend to a client’s every need. Better than anything Maw Heikens ever did.” He slid his eyes to me. “But that old witch Samuel was married to kept her devil’s eye on him. She refused him so much as a farthing unless she knew exactly what he meant to do with it. Which left me to put the money up myself. All of it. His share and mine. Bastard swore he’d pay me back.” He hawked into a spittoon sitting on the floor by his desk. “I was a bleedin’ fool. I should’ve known Samuel would be as worthless as his title.”
“Then why did you go into business with him?” I asked.
He swung his exasperated expression in my direction, his eyes squinting to near pinpoints. “I had no idea what a useless turd he was until after I’d fronted him the money. Before that he’d been throwing cash around like he grew it on his estate. It was a sham. All he had was what that shrew wife doled out to him. And all he did with that was chase whores. I don’t believe she really gives two shites who murdered him. Good riddance, I say. But I sure as hell didn’t do it.” His narrowed eyes raked our faces several times as if daring us to refute him before he added, “And you can both bugger off if you think you’re gonna pin it on me.”
“You must have an extraordinary alibi,” Colin said.
“I was at the club same as I am every night. Plenty of people saw me. Plenty.”
“Users?”
“What?”
“Are you asking me to accept the addled remembrances of addicts? That’s your defense? I’m not sure what a magistrate would make of that.”
“I’ve got nothin’ to hide.” He leaned forward eagerly. “Ask me anything.”
And once again I saw the whisper of a sparkle in Colin’s eyes. “How accommodating.” He stroked his chin. “When was the last time you spoke to the Earl?”
“About a week before he got himself killed. He was supposed to bring me an overdue payment, but of course he showed up without so much as a blasted shilling. Had some slag in his carriage and a load of piffle about needing more time. I told him he had a fortnight or I’d damn well tell that harpy wife of his everything. Then he got himself killed. Anything ta toss me outta my money.”
“Such disdain. Makes it hard to imagine why you persisted in your dealings with him.”
“What was I supposed to do? You think a titled man comes along every day looking to get into the opium trade? I thought he’d be able to open doors for us. Get us noticed by a better class of people.” He turned and assaulted the spittoon with something he’d hacked up. “Played me for a ruddy fool.” He glared at us from beneath his furrowed brow. “I tell you what, I wish I had killed him. God bless the man who did.”
“Touching,” Colin muttered. “And why should we believe you didn’t hire the man upon whom you are so happy to impart the good Lord’s blessings?”
“He owed me money, Mr. Pendragon. Haven’t I made that clear?!”
“Ah yes . . . money. So one of the mightiest motives for murder happens to be your saving grace.”
Warren Vandemier rose to his full height and scowled fiercely down upon Colin’s towhead. “This conversation is over!” he growled with as much menace as an opium user can muster. “I have nothing more to say to you.”
“That may be,” Colin stretched his legs out languorously, “but I am not finished with you, Mr. Vandemier. Now sit down, because you do not want me to stand up.” He delivered his last sentence in an offhanded, playful sort of way, but I knew he meant it, and so did Mr. Vandemier, who gave a petulant harrumph! as he dropped back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest as if to demonstrate some measure of defiance.
“I will thank you to conclude this interview quickly!” he snapped. “I have work to do.”
“Mr. Vandemier . . . ,” I started to say, hoping to dispel a bit of tension.
“Sod off!” he barked at me. “I’ll not be attacked by the likes of you.”
“The likes of me?! I walked away from opium years ago. You’re still an addict.”
“An addict never walks away!” he growled back, inciting my deepest fear.
“You’d best watch yourself, Mr. Vandemier,” Colin cut in, leaning forward and fixing his eyes on him. “I’ll not tolerate you speaking to Mr. Pruitt like that.”
Warren Vandemier rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and I knew he was in dire need of something to soothe his rattled countenance. Which meant that what was left of his resistance was likely on the verge of collapse. “May we please finish this?” he pleaded.
“If you can contain your theatrics then I’m sure we can be done quickly. I only have a few more questions—for the mome
nt.”
“The moment?!” He looked positively apoplectic as he sagged in his chair. “Get on with it then. . . .” He made a rotating gesture with his hand as if that were going to have any impact.
Colin drew in a slow, languid breath. “Who was the woman you mentioned who accompanied the Earl the last night you saw him?”
“The woman? I have no idea. She didn’t come up. You oughta ask Abigail Roynton. She’d probably know. She’s the one he tossed over for the new one.”
“Ah . . . ,” Colin muttered. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the Arnifours’ neighbor yet.”
“She’s somethin’ else.” He let out a low, wolfish laugh. “And I’m not just referring to Samuel, either.”
“You aren’t suggesting . . .”
“Oh, but I am. . . .” He leered at us.
“Eldon?”
“The prodigal son himself!” he sneered with great enthusiasm, seeming well pleased that Colin had followed his accusation. “The lovely widow is not known for being discerning. She’d probably even give you a go.”
Colin leapt to his feet and seized the man by the lapels and yanked him nearly the full way across his desk. “You are a reprehensible little turd, Mr. Vandemier,” he snarled within a hair’s breadth of his face.
“I haven’t told a single lie,” his voice cracked.
Colin heaved him away and stepped back, allowing the flustered man to recoil slightly as he fussed with his clothes as though to reengage his dignity.
“A last question then, and I will caution you to remember your place. Why did you disparage the Earl’s niece earlier?”
Mr. Vandemier took several mincing steps back in a clear attempt to avoid any further molestation. “She came to the club on several occasions, Mr. Pendragon, and not always under the tutelage of her uncle. And in spite of the pride I have for my business, I presume you will agree that it is not a place for a young girl of breeding.”
“Elsbeth came to your opium den?!”
“More than once.”
“And Eldon and Kaylin?”
“Eldon and his father rarely spoke. Samuel seemed to have little use for his son. As for Kaylin . . .” An uncomfortable look crossed his face. “Have you met her?”
Colin nodded.
“Then I should hardly think you’d need to ask the question.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because the only reason Kaylin Arnifour would go to an opium club would be to liberate the whores and burn the place to the ground. Now please, Mr. Pendragon, are we finished here?”
Colin continued to glare into the man’s fretful eyes. “For now, but you can be sure we’ll be back to see your club within the week.”
The man frowned and shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
CHAPTER 19
Were it not for Colin’s pocket watch it would have been impossible to tell the hour by the time we finally took our leave from Warren Vandemier’s office. The rain had stopped for the moment, but the temperature had dropped in tandem. With the addition of saturated horse droppings, rotten produce, and assorted other leavings littering the streets it was all I could do not to cringe as I pulled my cloak tighter about myself. Even still, it all smelled better than the residual of opium that had hung about Warren Vandemier.
“We aren’t more than fifteen minutes from Stepney Green . . . ,” Colin said, flipping his own collar up. “Fancy a walk?”
“Well, I suppose,” I answered. “So long as the rain holds out.”
We came to a halt in front of Michael and Angelyne’s walk-up and all I could think about was going inside to get warm. Even the stale residue of opium that assailed us as we entered did not bother me. “ ’Oo’s there?” the familiar voice of Mademoiselle Rendell barreled out in response to Colin’s knock.
“Mr. Pendragon and Mr. Pruitt.”
There was a great sigh as a flurry of locks and bolts were unlatched before she abruptly halted and called out, “Talkin’ don’t pay me bills.”
“This time it will.”
“Two cost extra.”
Colin leaned forward and placed his mouth close to the door. “Let us in and I shall make it worth your while. Persist in keeping this sorrowful rectangle of rotting wood between us and I’m afraid I shall have to tear it down and we’ll converse for free.”
“All right . . . all right . . .” Another dead bolt unseated as Mademoiselle Rendell finally yanked the door open. “We ain’t all born to the colors, ya know.”
“Whatever that means, I’m sure it’s a good thing,” he muttered.
I tried to ignore the scowl she leveled on me as I followed him inside. We remained on our feet awaiting an invitation to sit down, if such a space could be found, but none was forthcoming anyway. Instead she moved away from the door and said, “Wot?”
“May I?” Colin gestured at her well-worn divan still cluttered with all manner of papers and magazines.
“If ya must.”
“Not feeling hospitable this evening?” He smirked as he shoved the mess to the end of the couch and sat down, motioning for me to do the same, which, grudgingly, I did. “We haven’t come here to set you in a foul state. If you’d rather not be given the opportunity to respond to the statements of your Bulgarian friend . . .” He shifted a blank gaze to me.
“Vitosha Harlacheva,” I filled in, wondering what he was up to.
“Yes. Mr. Harlacheva. We can just take his word.”
“ ’Oo?” Her stance remained unwavering, but her voice betrayed a hint of vacillation.
“He’s one of the couriers for the Bulgarian attaché. Rather a broad-faced, bearded gentleman whom you met at the pub by the Russian embassy the other night. The one who informed you that your mutual business was finished for the foreseeable future.”
“Toshy?” She blurted the name out as a furrow creased her brow. “And what did that shite say about me?”
“That you’re blackmailing him,” Colin replied.
“You’re lyin’.” She shook her head and laughed, but her eyes remained wary.
“Am I? Perhaps you’d like to come with us to the Bulgarian embassy and confront Mr. Harlacheva?” I admired his bold stroke given that I thought it likely she might choose to, but she did not. She harrumphed and stalked across the room, tossing a pile of garments to the floor as she sank into a chair and wound her arms tightly around herself.
“Go on,” she said.
“Your friend . . . your Toshy . . . ,” he flashed a smirk, “. . . has been under surveillance by the Yard for some time now.”
“ ’E ain’t no friend a mine,” she sneered.
“Nevertheless, it would seem he may be involved in everything from the illegal drug trade . . . ,” I noticed he had slowed his speech and was keeping a watchful eye on her, “. . . to passing sensitive government information, and quite possibly involvement in a child slavery ring he claims you spearheaded.”
She bolted up, her face a cloud of rage. “ ’Ow dare ’e! That weren’t my idea, it were ’is.” She began pacing and cursing under her breath. “I’ve a right mind to go down there and kick ’is bloody, lyin’ arse.”
“Why don’t you just help us get Angelyne back? Doing a good turn will get you high praise from me and I’m sure Inspector Varcoe will . . .” Colin let his voice trail off as Mademoiselle Rendell swung around and glowered at him.
“I see ’ow it is,” she sneered. “I must look like a right dumb slag ta you, but I know what you’re up to.”
He pursed his lips and leaned back. “And what would that be?”
She wagged a finger at him, shaking her head and chortling with great self-satisfaction. “Toshy didn’t tell you no bollocks ’bout me headin’ nothin’. You’re just tossin’ about for information on that pissant little bitch.”
“She’s only twelve.”
“I ’ad me a list a clients long as me arm by the time I was twelve. So what?!”
; “And look how well you turned out.”
“This is getting us nowhere,” I jumped in, stopping her before she could say anything further. “The choices you’ve made for yourself are your business. You’ll hear no judgments from us. But doesn’t Angelyne deserve to make her own too?”
“I ain’t makin’ no apologies!” she snapped.
“None are warranted,” Colin said.
“There’s a need fer what I do.”
“Of course . . .” I could hear his patience ebbing.
“I weren’t born no ’ore.”
“Education is the backbone of every profession.”
“That’s right.”
He smirked as he leveled a gaze at her. “Did you deliver Angelyne to Mr. Harlacheva?”
“Don’t you look down on me!” she fired back.
“My dear . . .” He turned his head away. “I shan’t even look at you at all.”
She glared at him as though trying to gauge whether he was still playing her for the fool and I doubted this ploy would work, either. Nevertheless, he neither moved nor slid his eyes back to her, holding himself with remarkable stillness. I hardly knew where to look myself, so I settled on dropping my gaze to the well-worn floor, heavily stained with the accumulated remnants of too many people. “ ’E pays me real good,” she finally confessed to my amazement.
“How many have there been?”
“Seven.”
“And where does he take them?”
“I don’t know. I never see ’em again. It ain’t me business. I don’t ask.”
He turned back and looked at her. “Thank you for telling the truth.”
“A girl ’as ta make a livin’.”
“As we all must, but at what cost?”
“A livin’ don’t cost nothin’.”
He stood up and moved to the door with me close on his heels. “Yours will cost you your freedom if I ever find you involved in business like this again. If you wish to prostitute yourself that’s your right, but you will never make such a decision for another human being again. Especially for a child. Do I make myself clear?”
“Are you threatnin’ me?”
He gave a tight smile. “Absolutely.”
The Arnifour Affair Page 12