'Til Death Do Us Part (20 page)

“T
HIS
SITUATION
CANNO
T
be allowed to continue,” Calista said. “It is clear that you have become a target for this violent criminal, Trent. Andrew is also at risk now. We must find a way to stop this madman before he murders one or both of you.”

“Uh-huh.” Trent drank some of the brandy that Sykes had poured for all of them.

They were gathered in the library. Calista prowled the room like a caged cat. Eudora sat, tense and grim-faced, on a dainty, satin-covered chair. Andrew was sprawled in one of the leather-padded reading chairs in the languid pose that only a young male could achieve.

The careless posture reminded Trent quite forcibly of the fact that he was no longer nineteen. The vigorous events of the night, combined with the excitement of the previous evening, had left him with some sore muscles and a few bruises. He wondered if he was getting old.

Calista stopped and glared at him. “Are you listening, sir?”

“To every word,” he said. “We are making some progress in our investigation, Calista.”

“You call this progress?” She spread her hands in a wide arc. “You and Andrew could have been killed tonight. At the very least you both would have been severely injured if that vicious man had succeeded in running you down.”

“There's no need to carry on like this, Calista,” Andrew said. “Try to remember that Mr. Hastings and I were not hurt.”

Trent winced and braced himself for the reaction he knew that Andrew's admonishment would bring down on his head.

Calista whirled to confront Andrew.

“Do not tell me to calm down. You were nearly killed tonight. Because of me.”

“No,” Eudora said. Her tone was calm and quite firm. “It's not because of you, Calista.”

They all turned to look at her.

“Trent and Mr. Langley were endangered by some madman who has fixed on you, Calista,” she continued. “It is not your fault. It was never your fault.”

Calista's mouth tightened but she seemed subdued by Eudora's tone. She resumed her pacing.

“We must come up with a plan to stop him,” she said in seething tones.

“We are working on a plan.” Trent turned the glass between his palms, watching the firelight dance in the brandy. “The question I keep asking myself is, how does the hired killer fit into this business?”

“It's obvious that Nestor Kettering employed him,” Calista said.

“She's right,” Eudora said. “It's the only explanation that makes sense.”

“Yet Mr. Pell knew nothing of this paid killer who dresses like a wealthy gentleman.” Trent set aside his glass and leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs, fingers loosely clasped between his knees. “Where did Nestor Kettering find him? It is not as if one can go into
a shop and purchase the services of a villain who will commit murder for pay.”

Calista paused, frowning. “What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking that this killer comes from the respectable world, not Pell's world,” Trent said. “But that still leaves us with questions.”

Andrew paused his glass halfway to his mouth and looked at Trent. “We need more information about Kettering, don't we?”

“Yes,” Trent said. “I propose that you follow him tomorrow as he goes about his daily affairs. But you must be careful not to let him see you.”

Andrew grinned. “Don't worry, he will never notice me. I'm rather good at following gentlemen around, if I do say so. I've done it for Calista's business for years.”

Calista stopped pacing again. “I'm not so sure that's a sound plan.”

“We don't have a lot of alternatives,” Andrew said, going for a placating tone. “I give you my word I will be very careful not to let him see me.”

Calista started to protest again.

“Trent is right,” Eudora said in the same determined tone of voice. “We need to find the link between Kettering and his hired killer.”

“The associate, perhaps?” Andrew suggested. “The one who left the club with him tonight? Maybe I should look into his background.”

“We definitely need to identify him,” Trent said. “That shouldn't be hard now that we have an address.”

“Hmm,” Calista said.

Trent looked at her. “What?”

“Nestor Kettering lied to me. I think it is safe to assume that he lied to Mrs. Fulton about his reasons for ordering so many memento mori gifts. He no doubt has a long history of lying to women.”

“We are dealing with a practiced liar,” Trent said. “No surprise. Where does that take us?”

“I don't know.” Calista made a small fist with one hand. “But it
strikes me that by now Mrs. Kettering must have some idea of the character of the man she married.”

Trent shook his head. “Forget it. There is no point speaking to Anna Kettering. She may not have any great fondness for her husband, but it is highly unlikely that she would do or say anything that would even hint at scandal, let alone murder. She will not give you any evidence that might lead to her husband's arrest.”

“Nor could she be made to testify against him,” Eudora pointed out. “Always assuming she actually is aware of his illegal activities.”

Calista's eyes narrowed. “But if she suspects what her husband is doing, she must be terrified.”

“That doesn't mean she would have any incentive to talk,” Trent said. “She is in the same situation as you are. There's no point going to the police. Doing so would probably get her killed.”

Calista managed a shaky smile. “I doubt if she is in quite the same situation as I am.”

“Why do you say that?” Eudora asked.

“From what Andrew could discover, she is alone in the world. She doesn't have the sort of friends and family that I have.” Calista paused. “I am quite fortunate in that regard.”

She seemed surprised to discover that was the case, Trent thought.

“No,” Eudora said. “You and Andrew are not alone.”

“I don't know how to thank both of you,” Calista began.

Andrew stirred in his chair, sat forward, and fixed his attention on Trent. “On top of everything else, you saved my life tonight, sir.”

Trent groaned. “It's the least I could do, considering that I'm the one who suggested we follow Kettering. But enough. No more thanks.”

Eudora looked troubled. “Calista is right about one thing. We need a bit more of a plan.”

“I agree,” Trent said. “But it will have to wait. It has been a very long night. We all need sleep.”

“You are correct, sir.” Andrew bounded up out of the chair. “I've got to rise early so that I can get to Kettering's address before he leaves his house for the day.”

Eudora rose and looked at Calista. “The men have a point. We all need sleep.”

“What we need,” Calista insisted, “is a useful plan.”

“We will all be able to think more clearly if we get some rest,” Eudora said.

“I
'
M
LOSING
PATIENCE
,
Kettering.” Dolan Birch poured more brandy into the glass. “Have you made any progress?”

Kettering stared at the brandy. He had not wanted to accept the invitation to share a late-night drink but he had not dared to refuse. Nevertheless, Birch was the last person he wished to spend time with tonight. With the exception of his frigid little whore of a bride, of course.

He wrapped one hand around the glass.

“I just need time, Birch.”

“I thought we had an agreement, Kettering.”

“We do,” Nestor said. He gulped some of the brandy. “Give me a few more days.”

“I have held up my end. The arrangements have been made with my associate in Seacliff. The plan will go forward just as soon as you fulfill your side of the bargain.”

“There have been some . . . complications.”

“What sort of complications?”

“The silly bitch is involved with the writer Trent Hastings. The bastard and his sister are living in Cranleigh Hall at the moment.”

“Yes, I know.”

Nestor stiffened. “How?”

“Hastings and Miss Langley showed up at the offices of the Grant Agency. They were asking questions about Dunsforth and the others.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Indeed. Now I must take steps to make certain that they don't find a way to link me to the agency. I do not appreciate being put into this position, Kettering. Among other things it will mean a loss of income. I am not happy about that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That is my problem. I will deal with the matter. But in the meantime, I must insist that you fulfill your part of the bargain.”

“I will, I swear it.”

“Soon, Kettering.”

“Yes. Soon.”

“T
HE
NAME
OF
Kettering's associate is Dolan Birch.” Andrew sprawled in a reading chair and flipped through the pages of a little notebook while simultaneously stuffing his mouth with the small tea sandwiches that Mrs. Sykes had provided. “A few years ago Birch married a much older woman, a widow, who conveniently died in her sleep soon after the wedding.”

“Leaving Birch with a nice inheritance, I assume?” Trent said.

They had gathered in the library to listen to Andrew's report. Trent had one shoulder propped against the end of a bookcase. Eudora was seated in one of the reading chairs.

Calista had stationed herself behind the desk. She was as riveted by Andrew's report as the others but she was also acutely conscious of Andrew's air of excitement. He's enjoying this, she thought. Danger and secrets are like a tonic to his spirits.

There was a focused determination about him that was new and unsettling. She was no longer taking care of her little brother. He was
helping to take care of her. She did not know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“Birch did inherit a sizeable fortune,” Andrew said. “But by all accounts he has managed to go through a great deal of it. However, he seems to have found another source of income.”

“What is it?” Eudora asked.

Andrew popped another sandwich into his mouth. “I haven't been able to ascertain that. Meanwhile, regarding Kettering, as of now his day appears to be quite ordinary. He paid a call on his tailor this morning, attended a boxing match in the afternoon, had tea at his club, and then went home to dress for the evening. I just came home to get something to eat before I return to watch his club.”

“A typical day for a gentleman,” Calista said. “But I suppose that is only to be expected. Even a murderer must at least appear to live a routine life if he wishes to remain undetected.”

“A man like Kettering will keep his most interesting appointments after dark,” Trent said.

Eudora's mouth tightened. “Yes, of course.”

“Don't worry, I'll be back in front of his club in short order to see what he does tonight,” Andrew said. “It won't be hard to keep up with him because the traffic will slow his cab.”

“You will be careful, Andrew,” Calista pleaded. “Please promise me that much.”

He grinned. “Don't worry about me. I've paid the driver of a hansom to remain readily available for me as long as I require his services. Costs a bit, naturally, but in a hansom it's a simple matter to follow Kettering.”

Trent looked at him. “In the process of keeping an eye on Kettering today, did you happen to see his wife?”

“Mrs. Kettering? She did not leave the house while I was watching it but there is nothing strange about that. Can't say whether she went
out shopping or visiting while I was trailing around after Kettering, of course.” Andrew glanced at the clock and got to his feet. “I'd better be on my way. No telling when he'll leave this evening. I have the impression that he spends as little time as possible at home. That is not a happy marriage.”

He collected one last sandwich and went quickly toward the door.

“One moment,” Trent called after him.

Andrew paused. “Yes, sir?”

“You have your revolver?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Keep the gun within reach at all times. We know that Kettering and his hired killer are dangerous men. We must assume that the same is true of Dolan Birch.”

“Rest assured, I will be cautious. Don't wait up for me. Gentlemen like Kettering often stay out until nearly dawn. I will give you a full report at breakfast.”

Andrew vanished out into the hall. Calista heard him speaking to Mrs. Sykes, thanking her for a packet of sandwiches, and then the front door closed behind him.

She looked at Trent and Eudora. “Well, one of us, at least, appears to be enjoying this venture.”

“One's definition of entertainment is different at the age of nineteen,” Trent said.

“Yes, I suppose that is true,” Calista agreed. “But it is a bit unnerving to see Andrew
thriving
like this. Now I understand why he gets some pleasure from the process of verifying the information my clients provide me.”

“I would tell you not to worry about him but in truth I'm concerned about the safety of both of you,” Eudora said.

Trent watched Calista with grim eyes. “We need to find a way to end this matter and quickly.”

A brisk knock sounded. Mr. Sykes opened the door. He looked at Trent.

“A message for you, sir.”

Sykes held out a small silver tray. Calista and Eudora watched Trent pick up the envelope. He carried it to the desk and used a letter opener to slit the seal.

“It's from Jonathan Pell,” he said.

He read it aloud.

The blade man you are hunting is from your world, not mine. He is not in the employ of any of my colleagues. Rumors about him began circulating nearly a year ago. He is believed to be quite mad.

No address as of yet but will continue to make inquiries. I am pleased to say that I have learned something about the detective business from Clive Stone. It is a most interesting profession.

“How on earth did Nestor Kettering manage to hire a madman who enjoys murdering women?” Eudora said.

“Perhaps he had some assistance from his associate, Dolan Birch,” Trent said.

“If that is true, then they are both guilty of hunting women who are alone in the world,” Calista said, oddly numb. “What kind of person could do such a thing?”

Eudora rose, crossed the room, and put her hand on Calista's shoulder.

“Together we will solve this puzzle,” Eudora said gently.

Calista managed a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

Trent went to the desk, found a piece of paper, and selected a pen.

“What are you going to do?” Calista asked.

“Send a note to Pell telling him about Dolan Birch. Pell is always very keen to learn everything he can about his competition. Trust me, he will want to make inquiries about Birch. I will make it clear to Pell that we would appreciate knowing whatever he discovers and that we, in turn, will convey to him any other useful information that we learn.”