Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (36 page)

Gerrard was completing the note to Wheatley when Wheatley, himself, walked into his library.

“There’s not a servant in sight,” said Wheatley. “Only the porter at the front door. What’s going on?”

Gerrard put a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down. Special Branch agents are here and they’re questioning the servants about Grace Cummings and Johnny Rowland.”

“Special Branch!”

“Sit down, man, before you fall down,” snapped Gerrard. “This is no time to lose your nerve.”

But Wheatley did not sit down. “I don’t think you know how serious this is,” he said. “Magistrates and runners are one thing, but Special Branch! I don’t like it.”

“They don’t know anything. They’re fishing. What we have to do is make sure there’s no trail of evidence leading to us. It doesn’t matter what they suspect. They’re looking for evidence, and they are not going to find it. Do you understand?”

“More than you do. They wouldn’t be here just because two servants were murdered. That’s not the job of Special Branch. When they found out that Rowland wasn’t connected to the cabinet minister at Sackville’s party, they should have turned the investigation over to Bow Street. They must know something else.”

“Whatever they know, they won’t be able to prove a thing if my wife can’t answer their questions. So
here’s what I want you to do. Go out to Rosemount and take care of things there. Make it look like a suicide. Everyone knows Lady Mary’s mind is unbalanced.”

Wheatley felt a chill race from his toes to his hairline. He curled one hand around a chair to steady himself. He couldn’t say that Gerrard was panicked, because he wasn’t. He sat there, calmly giving orders, as though he were in control of the situation, He was the one who was panicked. Discovery was staring him in the face.

Rowland and Gracie had both worked for Gerrard. It was a risk they’d taken with that connection, but not much of a risk. Magistrates and constables didn’t exert themselves to solve the murders of servants, and their enquiries would normally be confined to the servant class. Something else must have pointed them in Gerrard’s direction.

Mrs. Barrie? Harry?

Why hadn’t he heard from the magistrates at Bow Street that Special Branch was still involved? He was there often enough. Someone must have told them to keep their mouths shut. Or maybe they didn’t know.

He had a very bad feeling about this.

He knew what he was going to do. He was going to take a long holiday for his health, far away from London, and he’d watch how events turned out for Gerrard. If nothing happened to Gerrard, then he’d return eventually. Maybe.

“And what about Harry?” said Gerrard. “I paid him good money to take care of Mrs. Barrie. Where is he? What’s happened to the woman?”

“Nothing, I hope.”

“What?” Gerrard squinted up at Wheatley. “Get a hold of yourself, Ralph. You know as well as I do that we have to get rid of her. She knows too much.”

Wheatley sucked air through his teeth. With hands braced on the flat of the desk, he leaned toward the older man. “Now you listen to me,” he said. “I’m going to tell Harry that we’ve changed our minds about Mrs. Barrie, and I hope to God it’s not too late. As for Lady Mary, I suggest you take her to a warmer climate for the good of her health. Italy comes to mind. What you do when you get her there is nothing to me. Don’t you understand anything? We may be able to talk our way out of a servant’s murder, but it must go no further.”

Gerrard’s face twisted with contempt. “You’re a weakling, Ralph. You’ll never fill my shoes.”

“What makes you think I want to fill your shoes? You’re insane, do you know that? You and that idol you worship.” Wheatley gestured to the earl’s portrait above the fireplace. “He should have been locked up in an insane asylum—”

Gerrard roared, “You will speak of the earl with respect!”

There was silence, then Wheatley let out a pent-up breath. “You think you’re so moral! God, the inmates of Newgate are angels compared to you. I shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have sent for me. They’re not fools. They’ll be watching you. And now they’ll be watching me.”

He walked to the door.

Gerrard looked down at the note he’d been writing when Wheatley arrived. “I didn’t send for you,” he said. “I never got round to it.”

Wheatley turned. “I’ve got your note right here.”

“I didn’t write it, I tell you.”

“I’m getting out of here.” Wheatley tried the door. “It’s locked. Someone must have locked it from the outside.”

A horrible suspicion took hold of his mind. Sweat broke out on his brow. He jerked round when the
French doors to the terrace swung open and a man entered.

He stared open-mouthed as the intruder crossed to him. He saw the gun too late. The bullet entered his heart and he slumped to the floor without a sound.

Gerrard watched in horror as the intruder stepped over Wheatley’s body and inserted the key in the lock. Then he pocketed his spent pistol and produced another from the waistband of his trousers. Gerrard recognized it at once. It was his own pistol.

The intruder approached Gerrard. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but you have become a liability. You see how it is?”

Gerrard’s throat worked. “Harry?” he said.

“Ah, so you were expecting me.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve kept to our bargain.”

“I know. But you just saw me kill Wheatley. You’re a witness. I didn’t expect you to come home. I thought you would still be at the House. But this makes it so much easier. They’ve made the connection between us, you see.”

“I swear I won’t tell them anything.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

As the gun came up, Gerrard fixed his gaze on the earl’s portrait.

Lord Ivan came tearing from the back of the house just as Landon thundered down the stairs.

“The door is locked,” shouted Lord Ivan.

“Then break it down.”

Lord Ivan put his shoulder down and charged. The door did not budge.

“Here, let me try.”

Landon used his foot and with a mighty lunge, broke the lock. They found Wheatley’s body just inside
the door and Gerrard slumped at his desk, his hand clutching a pistol.

“It looks to me,” said Lord Ivan, “as if Gerrard shot this fellow, then did himself in.”

“There were two shots,” said Landon.

“He reloaded. Look.” Lord Ivan pointed to the desk. There was a powder horn on it and an open leather pouch with steel balls spilling from it.

“He has ink on his fingers,” said Landon.

Lord Ivan scanned the desk. “There’s no letter here. He must have written it earlier.”

Servants were crowding around the open door. The butler pushed through the crush and stopped dead.

“Do you know this man?” asked Landon.

The butler nodded. “It’s Mr. Wheatley, the master’s attorney.”

“Go back to your posts,” said Landon. “We’ll take care of everything.”

“I sent John to fetch the magistrates,” the butler said.

Lord Ivan groaned. “This isn’t going to look good on our record, is it, Landon?”

“Sometimes,” said Landon tersely, “you are the master of understatement, Lord Ivan.”

Harry told the hackney driver to drop him at the corner of Marylebone Road and Baker Street, and he would walk the rest of the way. He knew the house, knew its layout, and though that was an advantage, he really didn’t know what he was walking into. There would be Radley and the girl, and Harper, of course, and in all likelihood, someone else from Special Branch to keep an eye on things. Not that they expected him to show up at the Marylebone house. They were waiting for him in Bond Street.
Special Branch
. He had nothing but contempt for them.

Right under their very noses, he had popped off their prime suspect and his cohort. It was as easy as taking sweetmeats from a babe. And what a hornets’ nest he’d stirred up! Magistrates and runners at loggerheads with Special Branch agents. Everyone coming and going. There would be hell to pay at Special Branch for this night’s work.

He threw back his head and laughed.

But it wasn’t over yet. They would think that with Gerrard dead, the Barrie woman was safe. How little they knew or understood him. Mrs. Barrie was no longer a target paid for by Gerrard’s money. She was a prize. She was part of the game. And all that Richard Maitland had achieved by setting a trap for him was to make the game that much more exciting. Tonight, he’d already run rings round the best and brightest that Special Branch had to offer. After tonight, they’d know he was unstoppable.

When the hackney let him down on the Marylebone Road, he could feel the wild surge of anticipation all through his body. There was nothing like this. The thrill of the hunt had his blood humming. This time, nothing was going to go wrong.

After his last attempt on the Barrie woman, he’d had a few bad moments thinking that maybe he wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. But the daring and inspired way he had dealt with Wheatley and Gerrard tonight had restored his confidence. Mrs. Barrie wouldn’t stand a chance.

He regretted having to kill Wheatley and Gerrard. After all, they acknowledged that he was the best. But he’d known Special Branch was closing in on Gerrard, and after Gerrard, they would take a closer look at Wheatley. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Wheatley had become dispensable, and so had Gerrard.

He didn’t approach the house through the gates.
He knew there would be porters there, and he found a gap in the hedge and squeezed through it. The driveway was illuminated by lanterns hanging from poles, so he kept to the shadows.

When he came to the house, he thought at first it was deserted. Then someone came out and lit the porch lamp. It wasn’t anyone he recognized, no one from Special Branch. After a little reconnoitering, he was puzzled. No one was home, except the caretaker, or whoever he was.

So much the better.

He squared his shoulders and made boldly for the front door.

T
here was nothing in the box but sketches, and when Jason realized it, his sense of urgency evaporated. Gwyn was disappointed as well. She was so sure that the box would have contained something to incriminate Gerrard. But she wasn’t ready to give up yet, so she took the box with her so that she could examine the sketches inside out and back to front when they went to the house.

The caretaker opened the door to them. Gwyn didn’t remember him from before, but Jason introduced him as a runner whom Colonel Maitland had requested from the Bow Street Office.

She had expected someone from Special Branch, but was too polite to ask Jason about it till they were alone.

“Me name is Jakes,” said the runner. He watched Jason as he deposited Lady Mary’s box on the hall table. “I’m cook, footman, and whatever you wants, so if you sees anyone else on these premises, you’ll know they ’as no business to be ’ere.”

He was not unlike Harper, grizzled and shabby around the edges, but where Harper’s face seemed to be set in a perpetual scowl, Jakes’ was set in a perpetual grin.

“Who else is here?” asked Jason.

“No one else,” replied Jakes, “leastways not in the ’ouse. Though I was expecting Sergeant Harper to be ’ere. To tell the truth, I was beginning to be worried about you.”

“Yes, well, we were delayed,” said Jason. “Harper will be along soon. What about groundsmen?”

“There’s a couple of gatekeepers who take turns patrolling the area, and a groom in the stables. And they’re all crack shots, Mr. Radley, sir, so you’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Good,” said Jason. “And don’t worry about Harper. He’ll be here soon.”

Jakes said, “A message arrived for you, sir, not ’alf an ’our ago. I was to tell you, from Colonel Maitland, that Mr. Gerrard,” he glanced at Gwyn, “well, Mr. Gerrard met with a nasty accident, if you sees what I mean. Someone done ’im in, and Colonel Maitland wants you to meet ’im at Mr. Gerrard’s ’ouse on the Strand.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

Jakes’ smiled faded. He spoke in an injured tone. “Because you asked me a question, sir, and I answered it.”

Gwyn didn’t have time for this. She was no longer despondent. She felt charged with energy. “What did I tell you?” she said to Jason. “Gerrard is in this up to his neck. We must go there at once.”