Murder in Grosvenor Square (17 page)

That could explain everything. I pictured the scene, Leland and Travers struggling, both alarmed, as they were strong-armed into the dirty yard behind the house.

Perhaps the ruffians had enjoyed the beating too much and hadn’t stopped in time. Mr. Forge could have instructed them to take the two far away, to someplace like Seven Dials, where crime was rampant, so the murder wouldn’t be traced back to the Nines. Perhaps, knowing that the two were lovers, and molly houses were nearby, they’d half undressed them to give the idea they’d been bludgeoned by while in the act. Easy to picture street toughs doing that.

But why steal Leland’s clothes? Or had that been done by another? And what did Mr. Mackay have to do with any of this?

“Did they have another friend with them?” I asked Bertha. “One with black hair, a little older? Name of Mackay.”

Bertha gave me a blank stare. “No. It were the two of them, no one else. They came in with another bloke, an aristo, but he soon left them alone, like he wanted nothing to do with them. He didn’t bother helping out when Mr. Forge sent for them.”

I believed she told the truth. Lord Percy had likely washed his hands of Leland and Travers as soon as Leland began crusading.

“Where did Mr. Forge’s men take them afterward?” I asked.

“I dunno, do I? I didn’t go out into the yard with them. But Mr. Forge’s men didn’t look worried or anything when they came back in, like they’d accidentally killed the two gents. No blood on them, or anything.”

I wondered how she could remember so specifically if she hadn’t followed them to the yard. “How long were the men outside?”

Bertha blinked, again perplexed by the question. “Quarter of an hour, maybe. Long enough to thrash ’em a little.”

Not enough time to trundle two young men across London and back, although Forge could have assigned other lackeys to do that.

“If that was all that happened,” I said after a casual sip of coffee, giving Bertha time to grow nervous again. “Why did you try to run away when I talked to you?”

She wet her lips. “Well, Mr. Forge would have my hide if I told you there was cheating going on in his rooms, wouldn’t he?”

“But you
have
told me,” I pointed out.

“I know. But I’m afraid of
them
.” Bertha glanced at Mr. Brewster and his wife, then gave me a look of appeal. “You won’t tell on me, will ya? You won’t tell Mr. Forge nothing? I need that place, and he don’t turn a hair about hitting a woman.”

“Then you should not return there,” I began sternly, but Mrs. Brewster cut off my words.

“You don’t need ’im,” she said. “Go home, Bertha. You mum wants to see you.”

Bertha gave her a scornful look. “She’s got six others. I’d just be drudging to look after them, wouldn’t I?”

I imagined she was correct. I recognized that Bertha was a liar who would fleece a mark in a trice, but I couldn’t condemn her too much for choosing to work for Mr. Forge. Likely she got more money from him than she would laboring in a factory, and would be safer at the Nines than walking the streets. Life in London was easy only for a few.

Brewster, who’d listened without a word, drained his cup and pushed himself up from where he leaned on the fireplace. “Give her tea or something, love, and shove her back out the door. I’ve got to take the captain to his nibs.”

Mrs. Brewster nodded at her husband, not moving, her position blocking Bertha’s way out. Bertha did not seem inclined to rush away and escape, however. She sat slumped on the sofa, her arms folded. Her sultry softness was gone, and she looked young, sullen, and unhappy.

In contrast, Mrs. Brewster turned to me with a sunny smile on her plain face. “Nice to have met you, Captain. You keep warm now, and watch your game leg. It’s turning into a raw sort of day.”

*

“She’s a good creature, is my wife,” Brewster said once we were settled in the coach again. Grenville must be wondering wildly where I’d disappeared to, but I’d have to wait to find him again after I discovered what Denis wished to discuss with me.

“I know what you’re wanting to know, Captain,” Brewster went on. “My Em used to be on the game herself, but didn’t mind giving it up for a softer life.”

Which she had with Brewster. Mr. Denis paid his employees well. “How did you meet her?” I asked.

Brewster gave a short laugh. “On the game. Where’d ya think? She was in a house, I went in for the night, and we took a fancy to each other. I had to pay the madam to let her go, and then we married. Right and proper, with a parson, and all.”

“Congratulations to you,” I said sincerely. “Have you been married long?”

“Ten years. We never had no young ’uns, if that’s what you’ll be asking next, but maybe it’s better. My sort of life would be hard on ’em.”

Working for Denis was dangerous, and Brewster was part of the danger. The fact that he understood that said much about him. My estimation of Brewster’s character had changed today.

I’d assumed Denis would meet me in Curzon Street, as usual, but Brewster took me to the house in which I’d sat with Leland the night before.

By daylight, the place was not as sinister, I saw as we went inside. The undraped windows showed me that the paneled walls were white, the furniture, what little there was of it, whole and well crafted. No holes in upholstery, no nicks on tables.

Brewster led me up the stairs to a front sitting room, where James Denis waited for me.

He stood near a window looking out, but not so close that anyone from the street, or even the nearby houses, would see him. He had one other pugilist in the room with him, but that was all. Denis, who usually surrounded himself with guards, was almost alone.

“I sent word to Mr. Grenville that I had detained you,” Denis said without turning around. “I did not need him rushing to the nearest magistrate to report you missing. I wanted to speak to you.
Right away.
” He at last turned his head and looked, not at me, but at Brewster.

Brewster paled slightly. “The captain was questioning one of the ladybirds at the Nines. I thought my Em would loosen her tongue, is all. And she did.”

Denis looked him over and gave him a nod. Brewster relaxed again, and Denis turned his attention to me.

“Captain, I brought you here to ask you to assist me.” He held up a hand, his old eyes in his young face intent upon me. “Do not worry that it will compromise your principles or break the law. In fact, you might even approve.”

Chapter Seventeen

Denis did not invite me to sit down, but I did anyway. My leg was hurting, and the Greek-style divan looked comfortable. I did not bother to ask Denis what he wanted me to do. His ideas of staying on the correct side of the law and mine were never the same.

“You visited the Nines,” he said in his cool way as I rubbed my bad knee. “What did you make of it?”

“I made very little of it, to be honest,” I said. I gave the back of my knee a last knead and stretched the leg out in front of me. “Respectable front hall upstairs, den of iniquity below. The ladies entice players to bet recklessly while the blacklegs fleece the marks. Toughs standing by to take anyone out who makes a fuss, which they did with Leland.”

Denis gave me nod. While never moving from his spot in the barebones room, he commanded it. “The running of the Nines is inefficient. It is a house with potential to bring in plenty of money, but they squander their opportunities by blatant cheating. They risk not only being shut down but offending their wealthiest clients.”

“But wealthy gentlemen still go there,” I pointed out, thinking of Lord Percy.

“Yes, but not often twice. Mr. Grenville has made the place unfashionable with his disapproval.”

He fell silent. I waited, but he was no more forthcoming.

“Was that all you wanted?” I asked. “My opinion of the Nines? If so, I would like to return to Grosvenor Square and look in on young Mr. Derwent. I put it to you that the Derwents need more help than you do at this moment.”

Denis did not change expression. “I sent the best surgeon in London to see to him last night and lent you this house. If necessary, I will provide more care to ensure that Mr. Derwent recovers his health, and that Mr. Travers is given a decent burial.”

His tone was firm. I had no reason to argue with him, except that I always had the compulsion to contradict him. “Mr. Travers’s family will bury him.”

“They are threadbare poor. The second Mrs. Travers presents a picture of respectability, but the truth is that her husband is nearly always drunk, and the family is ever in danger of creditors. I will settle the account for Mr. Travers’s funeral myself.”

I remembered Mrs. Travers stiffly proclaiming her husband was in bed and would not rise. Had he been too inebriated to come down and receive me? Or perhaps not in the house at all but at a nearby taproom?

“You know much about them,” I said.

“I make it my business to know. What I am coming around to telling you, Captain, is that I wish the Nines to close.”

I raised my brows. “You do? Why? Because it is a criminal enterprise you do not control?”

Denis gave me a look that was almost amused. “Precisely. I own many interests in the area, but the Nines eludes me. I would like you to shed bad light on the place. Spread the tales to the right people. Mr. Derwent has been badly hurt, Mr. Travers killed. The Nines has played a part in that. This should be enough to gain the attentions of the magistrates and reformers, including Sir Gideon. My voice, in this case, would have little weight, but yours would speak volumes. All are aware of your zeal about disreputable places. Remember the Glass House.”

An establishment in the East End I’d had a hand in closing. I felt the need, however, to point out flaws in his plan. “I have not established that Mr. Derwent and Mr. Travers were badly hurt at the Nines,” I said. “Bertha—one of the butterflies—says not.”

“And you believed her?”

“Not necessarily. She is the sort who would say anything to keep the blame from herself. I am certain Leland and Gareth were roughed up at the Nines, but the mortal wounds came later.”

“I am not interested in precision in this matter.” Denis made a motion with the flat of his hand, as though wiping away my arguments. “It will be enough that the Nines is implicated. I wish its doors to be closed by the end of the week.”

“And then?” I gave him a penetrating look. “You will open them again?”

“Probably.” He said nothing more than that. I imagined that when Denis ran the Nines, wealthy gentlemen of Mayfair would still be turning over all their money but this time to him.

I could not yet give in. “If the ruffians at the Nines are arrested and convicted for the murder of Gareth Travers and bodily harm to Leland, the real culprit gets away. I do not want that to happen.”

Denis made the slightest shrug. “Whoever did the crime is used to battering his victims. He will no doubt be caught for a similar occurrence.”

“The Derwents deserve the truth,” I said stubbornly.

Denis gazed at me for a long time. “It is you who seek the truth, Captain. You feel responsible, but that is foolish.”

I thought back to my conversation with Gareth the afternoon before the terrible deed had happened. I’d been adamant about extricating myself from the affair and bidding him and Leland to have nothing to do with me. I’d told Gareth to make up his differences with Leland, to be friends again. They’d met up that evening and gone out, perhaps to celebrate being together once more.

If I’d left them alone, hadn’t tried to play peacemaker, only for the selfish reason of keeping them far from my person, perhaps they’d be whole and well now.

I did not bother to ask Denis how he knew of my guilt. Brewster had likely reported my meetings with Gareth, and even what Gareth and I had discussed.

“I have regrets,” I said. “And I do not wish to disappoint a family who befriended me when I knew few in London.”

“They are kind people,” Denis surprised me by saying. “I do not know many who act without a selfish motive, but members of the Derwent family are the exception. I can understand your protectiveness toward them. But we cannot protect everyone from the world. It is impossible.”

His words were blunt but wise. “That does not mean I sit back and do nothing,” I said. “The Derwents shall have the truth.”

“As you wish, but you will assist me in closing the Nines. Tell Sir Gideon and his band of reformers that Leland came to grief at that hell, and I will lend you help to find the real villain.”

“If I deliver the men from the Nines to the magistrates,” I said, “will they listen when I hand them another set of villains who actually did the crime?”

“They will if the evidence is strong enough. If you wish to appease yourself, Forge, who runs the Nines, is not innocent. He rigs his games, he assaults those who threaten to bring him to court, and he more or less runs a bawdy house. Plenty of reasons to shut him down.”

I wondered who owned the Nines. Forge himself? Or perhaps it was owned by Denis’s competitor, a woman who called herself Lady Jane. She and Denis had a long-standing rivalry.

“What sort of help are you lending me?” I asked. “In return for railing about the Nines?”

Denis indicated Brewster with a nod of his head. “Mr. Brewster can be trusted, and he knows much about the London underworld. He will assist you in anything you need.”

Brewster, who’d remained stoically by the door, indicated neither pleasure nor dismay at this announcement.

“I have plenty of connections of my own,” I said. I knew a magistrate, Sir Montague Harris, who was always keen to catch villains, plus a man of the River police I trusted. “Mr. Brewster does not need to bother.”

“Your ‘connections,’ as you call them, do not know the people I do, or Mr. Brewster does,” Denis said. “Brewster will be assigned to you until you are satisfied that justice has been done. But first, you will make a report about the Nines. I want everyone out of that house by the end of the week.”

I took my time considering. I could tell Denis to hell with his offer and continue investigating on my own, but it was true that Denis could discover things I could not, and that Brewster could go among villains and come out unscathed. I doubted any denizen of the East End or rookeries around Seven Dials would like to go up against Brewster. Also, I would be happy to see a place like the Nines close, and Denis knew it.