The Bellingham Bloodbath (18 page)

Colin lurched across the table, hovering just in front of the recalcitrant man. “Why so cavalier, Private . . . ? Perhaps you were consoling the poor captain's wife?”

“You're pathetic.”

“Is that a no?”

Private O'Fallon shoved himself out of his chair, stabbing his face close to Colin's. “You can go to hell.”

“Is
that
a no?”

The private clenched his fists, making it obvious he wanted to send a clout to Colin's chin, which was precisely what I knew Colin was angling for. “I'm waiting for an answer to a very simple question,” he baited.

Private O'Fallon pulled himself to his full height, tugging at the collar of his blazing red tunic, and stalked from the room with all the dignity accorded one of Her Majesty's own.

“What a contemptible little shit!” Colin sputtered before the private had fully cleared the doorway.

“Do you really think he might have been involved with Captain Bellingham's wife?”

“I didn't until he started being so evasive. He professes allegiance to Captain Bellingham only to impugn the man's reputation and then deny he is doing so.” Colin coaxed a crown out of his pocket and began fumbling with it. “It's obvious I've ruffled him.” He sent the coin spinning between his fingers. “And where there is soreness there is inevitably a wound.” He gave me a cold grin. “I do believe we are edging closer.”

“Do you think?”

“I certainly hope so. Now do me a turn and see if you can fetch Corporal Blevins. That lad seems naïve enough to extort information from.”

I shook my head as I started for the door. “Well, I promise not to give you any more advice on how to handle this lot. These men don't seem to have any intention of cooperating no matter how they're treated.”

He gave me a malevolent grin. “I'm so pleased to hear you say that.”

“T
ell me something,” Colin said when I had returned with Captain Bellingham's youthful adjunct Corporal Blevins. “Did you have an honest affection for your captain or are you just another of the brainwashed sycophants more interested in confounding this case than assisting in its solution?”

I cringed as the slight young man with the coarse bristle of black hair sat down across from us, his confusion easy to read. “Pardon, sir?”

“Allow me . . . ,” I piped up, hoping to get this round of questioning off to a more productive start, only to have Colin brusquely silence me with an upturned hand. It seemed the corporal was in for whatever routing Colin determined appropriate.

“You worked directly for Captain Bellingham, correct?”

“Yes, sir. I was in charge of his schedule and assisted with his correspondence and regimental duties.”

“Very good. And did you consider yourself close to the captain? Did he confide in you?”

Corporal Blevins blinked several times, and while I searched his face for any hint of subterfuge, I could find none. “Only about his schedule. Is that what you mean?”

Colin looked about to reach across the table and backhand the poor naïve young man, so I shot my foot out to kick him under the table. He startled and then, to my relief, leaned back and allowed a warm smile to overtake his face. “It is precisely what I meant. You must forgive me for being so inarticulate.”

“Not at all, sir.” The corporal offered his own sort of smile, but it looked decidedly uneasy on his face.

“How long have you been a member of the Life Guard?”

“Just short of a year, sir.”

“And how long did you work for Captain Bellingham?”

“The last five months. I was assigned to him right after training. I thought . . .” But he let his voice trail off, and for once Colin did not press him to continue.

“Did you like working for the captain? Did you find him to be fair?”

“I did, sir. Very much.”

“And did you have occasion to meet his wife and son?”

“Never his son, sir, no. But I did meet Mrs. Bellingham twice. Once when she came to visit him and the second time when he asked me to deliver a small package to their flat.”

“Came here, did she? Checking up on her husband?!” Colin gave a cavalier laugh, but I knew he meant to have an answer.

The young man remained stoic. “I believe she had been shopping in the area. The captain was taking her out to lunch.”

“Ah.” Colin nodded. “And are you familiar with Mrs. Bellingham's brother . . . ? A Sergeant Thomas Mulrooney of the Irish Guard?”

The corporal's face clouded. “I met him a few weeks ago. He came into the office to see the captain and they had a terrible row.”

“Did they?” Colin tried to maintain an air of ease, but it was easy to see the information had caught his interest. “What did it concern?”

“Oh!” The corporal glanced from Colin to me. “I wouldn't know, sir. The captain had his door closed and he sent me to fetch some paperwork almost as soon as the sergeant arrived.”

“What paperwork?”

“Schedules for the guardsmen from Major Hampstead's office.”

“And when you returned . . . ?”

He shrugged slightly and dropped his gaze to the floor. “They were still talking. It sounded rather heated, but I didn't really hear anything. After a couple of minutes Sergeant Mulrooney came storming out. Didn't say a word to me.”

“And the captain?”

He shook his head. “He was in his office the rest of the afternoon. I poked my head in before I left that night, but by then it was like nothing had happened.”

“And you say you couldn't make out anything they were saying at all?”

“Well . . .” His eyes flicked about the room before he continued. “Captain Bellingham sounded quite upset about something Sergeant Mulrooney was accusing him of, but I don't know what that was. Honestly, I was trying not to listen. . . .” His voice trailed off, accentuating his acute discomfort.

Colin flashed a brief smile as he eyed the young man. “How old are you, Corporal?”

“Twenty, sir. In a couple of weeks.”

“Still living at home?”

“In the barracks, sir, with the other new recruits.”

“Your parents must be very proud of you.”

He nodded with a hint of embarrassment. “They are. My mum makes a fuss. Comes round once a week with something she's baked. The others look forward to her shortbreads and tarts, but I really wish she wouldn't.”

“Save your wishes for better things. I take it you're the only son?”

“Yes, sir. How did you know?”

“Such a doting mother could only have time for one boy.” He grinned. “How long have your parents been married?”

“Twenty-seven years,” he said with pride.

Again Colin smiled before continuing. “When Mrs. Bellingham came to her husband's office, did you sense the same sort of marriage your parents have?”

“The Bellinghams . . . ?” His brow furrowed as he seemed to consider the question. “They weren't married even half the time of my mum and dad. I'm sure that made a difference.”

“Of course. But what did you think when you saw them together?”

“She was very kind to me and the captain was always a gentleman. He set a fine example. It was a privilege to work for him.”

“Yes, yes, a regular candidate for canonization . . .”

“Pardon, sir?”

“The thing is”—Colin hopped up and began yet another slow arc around the periphery of the room—“somebody obviously didn't feel that way. Are you certain you don't remember any other details of his argument with Sergeant Mulrooney?”

Corporal Blevins shook his head.

“Did you mention it to anyone? A friend in the barracks perhaps?”

“No, sir.”

“What about Lady Dahlia Stuart? What do you make of your captain's visits to her?”

He looked momentarily taken aback but managed to hold Colin's gaze. “It was business, sir. He saw her a couple of times a month. There was always a log of it in his calendar.”

“What sort of business would a captain of the Queen's Life Guard have with a known seer?”

“I'm sure I don't know,” he mumbled.

“You sat right outside the captain's door for forty . . . fifty hours a week for five months, Corporal. Tell me what you
do
know.”

A pall came over the young man's face as he struggled with Colin's words. “I've told you—” he started to say, but then stopped, his brow knitting as though he suddenly recognized a falsehood.

“Corporal Blevins . . . ?”

“I'm sure it's nothing.” He shook his head self-consciously. “About a month ago the captain gave me a letter that he had sealed with his insignia and asked that I personally deliver it were anything ever to happen to him.”

“Deliver it to whom?”

“I don't remember. But I gave him my word that I would do it. I've forgotten all about it until just now.”

“Where did you put it?”

“In his safe.”

“Would it still be there?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Would you fetch it then? I should very much like to see it.”

The corporal shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “It's sealed,” he repeated. “You can't open it. I gave him my word I would deliver it. I should have done so already.”

“I understand, Corporal, and I think all the more of you for your loyalty. So let me give you
my
word: Allow me to see the addressee on the outside of that letter and if the person in question lives anywhere within the city's limits I will hand deliver the missive myself,
this very night,
in precisely the same sealed state you present it to me. And if it belongs to someone outside of London, then you may return it to the safe without my ever touching it. Would that be fair?”

Corporal Blevins gazed at Colin and I could tell he was trying to determine whether such an agreement might violate the promise he had made to Captain Bellingham.

“I can vouch for Mr. Pendragon's character,” I spoke up. “You must be aware that he is a man of impeccable integrity and reputation.”

“Of course.”

Colin smiled warmly. “I find it quite admirable that you seek to uphold your promise with such resolve.”

“Thank you, sir,” the corporal said gravely. “We'll have it as you say then. Shall I get it now?”

“That would be ideal.”

Corporal Blevins nodded grimly and took his leave, looking as though he was off to perform a far more repugnant task than the retrieval of a letter.

“How can we possibly have time to deliver that tonight?” I asked, unable to imagine what Colin was thinking beyond a determination to see whom the letter was written to.

“Because if it's written to someone in the city it will likely be
worth
our efforts to deliver it, and should it be addressed to someone beyond we may have just stumbled upon another cog in this case.”

“What do you suppose it will say?”

“I haven't the slightest notion, but it is our first indication that perhaps he was feeling threatened.” Colin abruptly cocked his head to one side and held a hand up.

“What is it?”

“Someone's coming and it is definitely
not
Corporal Blevins.”

“What?” I strained to listen and just barely caught the far-off sound of boots clacking on marble. As he suggested, these footfalls were heavier and more methodical than the light, scurrying sounds Corporal Blevins had made.

“It would seem,” Colin muttered as he took the seat next to mine, “that we have ruffled some plumes. It is undoubtedly the major.” He had no sooner said the word when Major Hampstead came through the door, a thin smile flickering across his face.

“Nice to see you both again,” he said hollowly.

“I'm glad you've joined us.” Colin smiled. “There are ever more questions to pepper you with.”

“Really?” The major leaned back against the doorjamb, gazing in upon us. “And what might they be?”

“Are you familiar with Captain Bellingham's brother-in-law?”

“Sergeant Mulrooney? I know who he is.”

“I'm told he was quite disparaging of Captain Bellingham.”

Major Hampstead dismissed Colin with the wave of a hand. “They had little use for one another. It's hardly the stuff of murder.”

“What was their point of disagreement?”

“Who can say, Mr. Pendragon?” He offered an indifferent shrug. “Families can be such complex creatures.”

“I see.” Colin's smile grew thinner. “Then let me ask you about something you
will
know. What precipitated the fight at McPhee's the night Sergeant Newcombe's father was mortally wounded?”

“McPhee's?” His brow caved in on itself. “What the bloody hell does that have to do with the murders of Captain Bellingham and his wife?”

“That is what I am trying to determine,” Colin fired back.

“I really don't think you need to concern yourself with—”

“I'd prefer to judge that for myself.”

A grin slowly eased across Major Hampstead's face. “You know what I think, Mr. Pendragon . . . ? I think you haven't the slimmest notion about who committed these murders. Which means that”—he pulled out his watch—“in about twenty hours you will be addressing the newsmen with the conclusion I shall have laid out for you.”

“You're evading my question, Major.”

“Your question?”

“What precipitated the brawl at McPhee's?”

He pursed his lips a moment and then said, “Too much liquor, I suppose.”

“And what, precisely, was the liquor saying?”

Major Hampstead chuckled. “That's rich, Mr. Pendragon. I shall see you tomorrow. Shall we say four thirty so you'll have time to prepare? I am already putting the finishing touches on your speech.”

“There is no point in writing a speech for a story that has yet to be finished. And make no mistake, Major, I
will
resolve this case in time.”

The major's grin did not waver in the least. “You mean to tell me you're here harassing my young officers because you are so close to a resolution?” He let out a guffaw.

Colin's face went rigid, grimness etching his features. Then something happened that, at first, brought me relief—only to be followed immediately by the realization that it was not at all a good thing: Corporal Blevins returned with Captain Bellingham's sealed letter.

With Major Hampstead filling the doorway, Corporal Blevins was forced to hover just outside, a dusky cream-colored envelope clutched in his hand. He seemed to be trying to decide what to do when he caught Colin's eye, and in that same moment I saw Colin flinch as he too realized what was about to happen. “You've made your opinion very clear, Major,” he blustered as he moved to usher him out. “But if you will excuse me, I should like to complete my work.”

Major Hampstead turned with a smirk, giving a perfunctory nod to Corporal Blevins. “Certainly. You can spend the whole of the night here if you wish, but tomorrow at five we have an appointment with the press that you
will not miss
.”

Colin flashed a stifled smile as Major Hampstead passed through the doorway. Corporal Blevins stepped smartly aside, snapping his hand up to salute his commanding officer, and to my horror it was the hand clutching the letter, which waved like an unfurled sail from his brow.

“What's that you've got?” The major frowned.

“A letter from Captain Bellingham, sir.”

“A letter? What letter?”

The young corporal held it out as though the mere sight of it might answer his superior officer's enquiry. “He gave it to me a while back, sir. Asked me to deliver it should anything happen to him.”