A Body in Berkeley Square (6 page)

Grenville liked to be in the thick of things.
I knew he would not mind walking among the muck of Bow Street in
his perfectly shined boots if he could indulge his curiosity. I
would be happy to see him, though. He'd been on the spot, and he
was quite good at noticing things out of the ordinary. A decent
witness, as Pomeroy had called him.

Grenville arrived as Pomeroy and I started
for the stairs. His fine phaeton stopping in the street caused some
commotion as those inside craned to look out windows at the most
elegant horses and rig in town. Grenville leapt down and handed the
reins to his tiger, a young man whose sole purpose in life was to
look after Grenville's horses when he was not driving them.

Grenville swept inside, removing his hat, and
was instantly bombarded by a mass of humanity.

"A farthing in me palm, milord. Wouldn't say
no," an elderly man with few teeth breathed at him. "Spare a penny
for an old man?"

"Yer a fine one. Remember sweet Jane when
she's done with the magistrate, won't you?"

Grenville blushed but he sprinkled pennies
among the others until Pomeroy lumbered forward and shouted, "Clear
off. Let him through."

"Good morning, Lacey," Grenville said with
his usual politeness. We might be meeting at his club. "Mr.
Pomeroy."

Grenville looked as though he'd not slept
much the night before. His face was impeccably shaved, but his
cheeks were pasty white and dark smudges stained the hollows
beneath his eyes.

We did not speak further as Pomeroy took us
up the stairs and to the room where the chief magistrate
waited.

Sir Nathaniel Conant, an elderly gentleman
who'd presided over the Bow Street court for the last four years,
sat behind a table upon which waited a sheaf of paper and a pen and
ink. The room felt damp and smelled faintly of unwashed clothes, an
inauspicious place to decide a man's fate.

Colonel Brandon sat near Sir Nathaniel, but
he got abruptly to his feet when he saw me.

Brandon looked terrible. His usually crisp
black hair was disheveled, although he'd made some attempt to
smooth it. His chin was covered in black stubble, and his dark and
elegant suit was rumpled and stained. He gazed at me with blue eyes
that resembled cold winter skies and were just about as
friendly.

"Good, Pomeroy," Sir Nathaniel said. "We can
begin. These are your witnesses?"

"Mr. Grenville is." Pomeroy introduced him.
"He was at the ball when the murder took place. This is Captain
Lacey."

Sir Nathaniel peered at me, his watery eyes
taking more interest. "I have heard Sir Montague Harris speak of
you. He regards you as intelligent. Why have you come? Are you also
a witness?"

"I was not at Lord Gillis's ball, no," I
said. "But I know Colonel Brandon. He was my commander in the
army."

"Ah, a character witness. Sit down, if you
please."

"Sir Nathaniel," Brandon said stiffly. "I do
not want Captain Lacey here."

Sir Nathaniel looked surprised. "Do not be
foolish, sir. At this point, you need all the friends you have.
Sit."

He pointed his pen at the chair Brandon had
vacated. With another belligerent glare at me, Brandon resumed his
seat.

Colonel Aloysius Brandon was a handsome man.
At forty-six, he had black hair with little gray, a square,
handsome face, and an athletic physique that had not run to fat. I
had often wondered why he seemed oblivious to the attentions women
wished to bestow on him, although, as evidenced with this business,
perhaps he was not so oblivious after all.

I took a straight-backed chair next to
Grenville. Pomeroy sprawled across a bench, and we waited for the
procedure to begin.

At least, I thought, as Sir Nathaniel
scratched a few words on his papers, Brandon did not have to suffer
the indignity of standing in the dock before the sitting magistrate
downstairs, with thieves and prostitutes and other poor
unfortunates awaiting their turn. Sir Nathaniel had obviously kept
Colonel Brandon's standing in mind, as well as the fact that murder
was a bit more serious than pickpocketing or laundry stealing.

"Colonel Brandon," Sir Nathaniel began. "This
is an examination, not a trial, in which I will determine whether
you should be held in custody for trial for murder. Do you
understand?"

Silently, with an angry glint in his eye,
Brandon nodded.

"Excellent. Now, Mr. Pomeroy, please present
the evidence that made you bring in this man for the murder of Mr.
Henry Turner."

Pomeroy climbed to his feet and plodded
forward. He took from his pocket a wad of cloth, and unwrapped the
dagger that had killed Turner. He clunked the knife to the
table.

"This was plunged into the chest of Mr. Henry
Turner, coroner says near to midnight last night," Pomeroy said.
"The body was found at twelve o'clock, and witnesses saw the
deceased alive and well at half past eleven, so there's not much
doubt about the time of death. When I arrived, I asked who the
knife belonged to. Colonel Brandon told me that the knife was his.
His wife, Mrs. Brandon, said that she could not remember whether
the colonel had such a knife, but he was pretty certain."

"It is mine," Brandon said, tight-lipped. "I
never denied that."

Sir Nathaniel gave him a sharp glance then
made a note. "Any other evidence?"

"No, sir. I examined Colonel Brandon's gloves
and found that they were clean. The colonel denied having killed
Mr. Turner, and denied having gone into the anteroom where he was
found at all. But a few witnesses, Mr. Grenville included, saw Mr.
Turner and Colonel Brandon enter the room together at eleven
o'clock. However, they emerged after about five minutes and went
their separate ways. No one I can find remembers either Mr. Turner
or Colonel Brandon entering the room after that, but Mr. Turner
must have done, because there he was, dead, an hour later."

"I must ask you, Colonel," Sir Nathaniel
said, "why you lied to Mr. Pomeroy about entering the anteroom at
all?"

Brandon looked uncomfortable. "Because it was
none of his affair. And it had nothing to do with Turner being
killed."

"That remains to be seen," Sir Nathaniel
said. "Please tell me the nature of your conversation with Mr.
Turner in the anteroom."

Brandon sat up straighter. "I do not wish
to."

Sir Nathaniel raised his gray brows. "Colonel
Brandon, you might well be tried for murder. Were I in your place,
I would try my best to establish that my business with Mr. Turner
had nothing to do with his death. Now, what did you discuss?"

Brandon's neck went red. "I called him
out."

"Called him out. Do you mean that you
challenged him to a duel?"

Brandon nodded.

Sir Nathaniel made another note. Even the
scratching of his pen sounded disapproving. "Dueling is against the
law, Colonel."

"I know that. But Mr. Turner was being
offensive to Mrs. Harper. He needed speaking to. In any event, it
is a moot point now."

I stifled my dismay. Brandon might as well
build the scaffold and tie the noose around his own neck.

"Indeed, it is," Sir Nathaniel said. "And you
were annoyed with Mr. Turner's behavior, because Mrs. Harper is
your mistress?"

Brandon hesitated. I saw his eyes swivel to
the paper, above which Sir Nathaniel's pen poised. It was one thing
to say the words to Pomeroy, quite another to have them written
down in black ink.

"Yes," he said slowly.

This was nonsense. It had to be. And yet,
what had Brandon to gain from protecting Mrs. Harper?

"Very well." Sir Nathaniel's pen moved.
"After you and Mr. Turner made an appointment to meet, what did you
do next?"

"We never made the appointment," Brandon
said. "He refused me. I told him he was a coward and left him."

Grenville glanced sideways at me, and I gave
him a grim look in return. If Brandon could convince the magistrate
that he'd planned to meet Turner honorably, he might have a chance
to prove he'd never kill him
dis
honorably. But Brandon's
words put paid to that defense.

"I see." Sir Nathaniel redipped his pen.
"Well, then, Colonel, please go on. Tell me what you did from the
time you left Mr. Turner until his body was discovered."

"I've told Mr. Pomeroy," Brandon said in a
hard voice.

Sir Nathaniel looked at him with deceptively
mild eyes. "Now tell me."

Brandon's shoulders sagged the slightest bit.
"I walked out of the anteroom, as I told you. I went back to find
Mrs. Harper, and we adjourned into an alcove so that I could speak
privately with her. I told her what Mr. Turner had said. She was
naturally upset that I had challenged him, and it took some time to
calm her down. She asked that I find her some sherry, and I went in
search. I could not find a footman with a tray--never about when
you need one, footmen--so I was obliged to leave the ballroom. I
searched the supper room and found all the decanters empty, so I
went out to the hall to find a servant. I had no success and was
about to tramp down to the kitchens myself, when I heard Mrs.
Harper screaming. I pushed my way through the crowd and saw her
standing outside the anteroom, and Turner dead inside."

Sir Nathaniel scribbled away. Presently he
asked, "Did you see anyone in the supper room or the hall outside
who can be a witness that you were there?"

"No," Brandon growled. "As I said, I found no
sherry and no servants. God knows where they all were. When I came
back inside, everyone was watching Mrs. Harper. I do not think
anyone noticed me."

I broke in. "That does corroborate what Lady
Aline Carrington told me. She said that Colonel Brandon came from
behind her."

Sir Nathaniel made a note without thanking
me. "Even better," he said, "would be a witness who saw you in the
alcove with Mrs. Harper between the time you left Mr. Turner and
twelve o'clock."

Brandon shook his head.

"Mr. Pomeroy?" Sir Nathaniel asked. "Have you
found any witnesses to swear where Colonel Brandon was at the
time?"

"No, sir," Pomeroy said. "Most unhelpful,
that."

"Indeed," Sir Nathaniel said. "Now then, Mr.
Grenville, what can you add or subtract from Colonel Brandon's
statement?"

Grenville cleared his throat. "I did see
Colonel Brandon and Mrs. Harper enter the alcove after Mr. Turner
emerged from the anteroom. I cannot say when they departed it. I
was dancing after that, giving all my attention to my partners. I
was very near the anteroom, however, when Mrs. Harper entered it. I
saw her go in. After a minute or two, she rushed out, screaming at
the top of her lungs. I looked inside and saw Mr. Turner slumped
against the table. I settled Mrs. Harper on a chair and made her
swallow some brandy, then I entered the room with Lord Gillis. Lord
Gillis pulled Mr. Turner upright. I saw the knife in Mr. Turner's
chest and knew that he was dead."

Sir Nathaniel wrote. The quiet scratch of his
pen made a strange contrast to the violence Grenville
described.

"Did you see Colonel Brandon come back into
the ballroom?" Sir Nathaniel asked when he'd finished.

Grenville shook his head. "I did not see him,
no."

"Well, he wouldn't, would he?" Brandon broke
in. "He was looking at Turner, not searching the ballroom for
me."

Sir Nathaniel gave him another sharp look.
"Quite so, Colonel. Captain Lacey. What evidence do you have to
add?"

Brandon glowered at me. He did not want me to
speak, did not want me there at all. I wondered at his resistance.
He might not like me, but he ought to at least realize that I could
help him.

"I served under Colonel Brandon from the time
I was twenty years old until the time I was thirty-eight," I said.
"The fact that Colonel Brandon stands accused of this crime
surprises me very much indeed."

"Not accused," Sir Nathaniel said quickly.
"This is a preliminary examination, as I said."

"I am astonished that he is under suspicion
at all. Colonel Brandon has always acted with the utmost honor." At
least, he'd acted with honor except where I was concerned.

"You were in the wars together," Sir
Nathaniel said. "A man learns to kill during a war. Otherwise, he'd
make a poor soldier."

"Fighting a battle and cold-blooded murder
are two different things," I said.

"I concede that." Sir Nathaniel nodded. "I
know some officers who are the gentlest of men. That does not mean
your colonel has not done murder. Though I commend your
loyalty."

Brandon's face had gone a bright, cherry red.
The last person he wanted to stand up for him was me.

But if I could save the wretch for Louisa, I
would. I still had difficulty believing he'd stabbed Turner.
Brandon was guilty of something here, but of what, I was not yet
certain.

Presently, Sir Nathaniel ceased writing. "I
would like to speak with the ladies who were present. Mrs. Harper
and Mrs. Brandon."

"No," Brandon said at once. "I do not want my
wife involved in this."

"My dear sir, this is murder. Did you believe
it was a private matter?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Brandon said
stiffly. "This is not France, where the police survey our every
action. Our committees call for police reform. We shall all be
scrutinized whenever we leave our houses, if that happens."

His speech did not please Sir Nathaniel,
whose nostrils pinched. "That's as may be, Colonel. At present, I
need to investigate a murder and determine whether or not you
should be tried for it. Your wife, in fact, may be able to produce
evidence that you did not do it. You would like me to find that,
would you not?"

Brandon said nothing. His eyes glittered with
stubborn fury.

I wondered what the devil was the matter with
him. He behaved as though he did not want to be proved
innocent.