The Mermaid in the Basement (19 page)

“I don’t know, I’m sure.What did he ask you?”

“Mostly he asked about Mr. Clive.What sort of man he is.”

“He asked me the same thing. I think he’s asking everyone that.”

The two sat there talking quietly until the tea was ready. Mrs. Fielding poured for both of them, and Barden added lemon and cream and sipped it carefully. “You make the best tea I’ve ever had, Rachel.”

Her face glowed suddenly, and she said, “Anyone can make tea.”

“Not like yours.”

“Do you suppose,” she asked, “he’ll talk to the family?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure he will, but I can’t see how he’s hoping to accomplish anything.” He sipped his tea, put the cup down, then put his hands on the table. Mrs. Fielding noticed that he had beautiful hands,with long, well-shaped fingers, and they made her think of a doctor or a musician. “I wish he’d go away,” she said.

“I wish the whole thing would go away, but it’s not likely to.” He heaved a sigh and said, “Well, we’ll have to plan for the meals, and let’s try to keep the staff as calm as possible.”

“I must tell you, Inspector Grant, I’m not entirely happy with the manner with which you’ve been questioning our people.”

Matthew Grant had spent the morning talking to the servants, and now, although it was almost noon, he was determined to start his questioning of the family. He looked steadily now at Serafina and had to admit that despite his distrust of the aristocracy, the woman did have a quality that he admired. Suddenly the thought crossed his mind,
She’s the
kind of woman, I think, who could draw a revolver and shoot a man down
and not go to pieces afterward
. He was not impressed by the expensive clothes or jewellery, but there was a strength in Viscountess Serafina Trent that did impress Grant. He was a man who respected strength, and the woman who stood before him had more than her share of that quality. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Viscountess.”

Serafina said quickly, “I know you have to investigate, Inspector. That’s your job, but we’re not accustomed to having things like this happen in our family. It’s very hard.”

“I’m sure it is, and I will do my best to be a bit more tactful.”Grant’s lips suddenly twitched, for it was the first time he could remember ever promising anyone to be tactful. He was a straightforward, hard-driving man who set a goal and pushed himself toward it with all that was in him. His reputation for this sort of thing was well known among his fellow officers and also among the criminal element. It gave him pleasure to think that when he walked down the streets of one of the rougher sections of London, petty thieves and prostitutes and others of that sort would duck into an alleyway to avoid meeting him. It always gave him a sense of pride, of work well done, when that happened. He had not, however, often dealt with the nobility, so he had not known what to expect out of Viscountess Trent. He was well aware that there were those who claimed she had murdered her husband. He had questioned those who were more familiar with the case, and they all had exactly the same attitude:
We think she did it, but we can’t prove it.

“You’re using Tremayne to help you clear your brother, Viscountess, which surprises me. He’s an actor, not at all trained to do that sort of work.”

“I must take what help I can, sir.”

Grant saw that she was resisting him in every way and gave what amounted to an apology, something he had never done before. “I seem hard to you, I know, but I have to be.”

“Superintendent Winters isn’t.”

Grant smiled and shook his head. “He’s running for office. He’ll be asking for your support one day,Viscountess.Naturally he’s going to be as gentle as he can with you, but I’m not running for anything. I just want to see justice done.”

Serafina studied Grant clinically. She knew she was better at studying inanimate objects and doing experiments on physical things than she was at reading people, but she saw him as the enemy. He was not a tall man, but there was an impression of raw strength about him. She again noted his silver-coloured hair. She estimated his age at somewhere around thirty, so the silver hair was not a sign of old age. It was thick and glossy and held a slight wave. Grant also had strange eyes, perhaps the strangest Serafina had ever seen. They were well shaped, deepset, and hooded—and the most unusual shade of hazel. “Superintendent Winters told me he had a fear of sending an innocent man to the gallows. Do you ever think of that, Inspector Grant?”

“I have thought of it, of course,”Grant said quietly. “Any man would in my place.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I ask you to be fair, Inspector Grant. My brother’s not a . . . steady man. He’s gotten into his share of minor scrapes, but he’s never harmed anyone.”

Instantly Grant said, “He harmed Edward Maxwell.”

Grant’s fast reply caught Serafina off guard. She blinked with surprise and clenched her teeth together in a sudden gesture of annoyance. She was shocked that Grant would know so much about her brother, but then she knew he had been asking not only her family but Clive’s friends and those who were not so friendly. “It was a fight,” she said, “over a foolish matter. Something about a cricket match.”

“He broke Maxwell’s jaw and had to be pulled off of him. One witness said he thought he was going to kill him before they could stop him from beating him any further.”

“It’s the sort of thing young men do. I don’t deny, Inspector, that my brother is sometimes hot tempered. He is, but that’s different from slashing a woman to death.”

Grant felt slightly out of his depth here. They were seated in a cavernous drawing room hung with crystal chandeliers. Only one of them was lit, but it cast its gleam over the two who were facing each other beneath it. The wooden parquet floors were strewn with an assortment of oriental rugs in several shades and designs, all a fraction brighter than those that become worn with constant tread. The gleaming white antimacassars on the chairs were stitched in brown upon linen. “I deal with hard men,Viscountess Trent.”Grant shrugged. “It’s made me a hard man in some ways, but I’d like to think I’m a fair man.”

“Superintendent Winters offered to help me find the woman Clive was with.”

Grant responded smoothly, “Well, of course we could be of help, especially if we had more facts. I don’t think your man Tremayne’s going to be able to find the woman, not on the scanty information your brother has given.We don’t have a name. The only physical description is that she was a tall woman with blonde hair. I don’t think you have any idea,Viscountess, how many prostitutes there are in the city of London. Perhaps as many as a hundred thousand.”

“That sounds impossible.”

“That is not my figure, but the superintendent is right. If we get any more details about the woman, we do have the resources to find her, and we will do so. You think that’s fair enough?”

Serafina considered Grant carefully. “Yes, that sounds fair.Will there be any more questions?”

“No, that’s all.” Grant stood to his feet and turned to leave.When he got to the door, however, he turned and made a most uncharacteristic remark. It was not the sort of thing he would have said to many people concerning one of his cases, but despite Serafina Trent’s obvious strength, he had discerned the fear that was in her. It was something he had learnt when he was young in police work, to detect fear, and he was good at it.

He had no wish to give her false hope, but he said, “I hope your brother’s memory improves, Viscountess. It’s your only hope.”

As Grant left the drawing room, he had the impression that somehow he had been bested, a most unusual feeling for him.
She’s a woman
of great determination and a good mind,
he thought.
She’ll do anything she
can to save her brother.

Grant left the house and started down the walk, but as he did, he heard a very slight sound to his right. He turned quickly to see a young woman sitting on a bench in the garden. The flowers were blooming abundantly, so she was almost hidden by the foliage.

Grant hesitated, then moved closer; but as soon as he approached, a huge dog suddenly planted himself in Grant’s path, a low warning growl deep in his throat.Grant stopped immediately, for a dog this size was nothing to be trifled with.

“Napoleon, don’t be that way.” The woman rose, and he recognised her as the younger daughter of the house, whom he had already questioned during an earlier visit. He watched as she came and put her hand on the dog’s head, saying, “Be quiet, Napoleon.”

She straightened and faced him, and he took her measure at a glance. Her deep teal green dress flattered her auburn hair and her colouring.

“What is it, Inspector?”

“You are Miss Aldora Newton.”

“Yes, I saw you when you were here before.”

She swallowed and was very vulnerable as she stood there before him. The fear that he had seen only a glimpse of in Serafina Trent was obvious in this young woman.

“Inspector,” she said, her voice soft, a thread of grief running through it. “I have to tell you that my brother would never kill anyone.”

Despite himself Grant was impressed with the difference between Aldora and her sister, Serafina. “It’s natural you should think so,” he said.

“May I ask why you are questioning the servants?”

“It’s just routine, Miss Newton.”

“I know nothing of police matters.” She stood taller and took her hand off of Napoleon’s head. Despite her agitation,Grant saw that she had a pleasantly expressive mouth, but there was none of the enormous will that he had seen in the viscountess. Her features were quick to reveal her thoughts, and she had difficulty hiding her emotions. It suddenly occurred to Grant that the distance between himself and this young woman was greater than the distance to the nearest star. His background, his whole life, had been lived in one world and hers in another. He did not know exactly how to talk to her, for he had the feeling that she had been weeping, and it would not be difficult to send her off into another paroxysm of grief.

“What—what’s going to happen next?” she asked anxiously.

“There will be a trial, of course.”

“Will my brother go to prison?”

“That will depend on the judge and the jury.” Grant did not want to tell her that if Clive Newton were found guilty, he probably would be hanged. He had the feeling that if he told her this, she would turn pale as a sheet and perhaps even collapse. Grant knew he was good with hardened criminals, but this young woman was so vulnerable, he felt unable to handle her as he should.

“I can’t help being afraid. I suppose you would be, too, wouldn’t you, Inspector, if your brother were in such trouble?”

“I don’t have any family.”

“You don’t have any family at all? What about your parents?”

Grant thought suddenly of the barren years of his childhood and shrugged. “Others have had worse times, I think.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“I lost them at a very early age. I hardly knew them.”

“I’m so sorry. Did you go to live with relatives?”

Grant could not understand how the conversation had taken this turn. “No,” he said almost shortly, “I went to a workhouse.”

“A workhouse? I read a book by Mr. Dickens,
Oliver Twist
, but it really wasn’t that terrible, was it, not as bad as Mr. Dickens makes out in his book?”

“It was . . . unpleasant.”

“I’m so sorry!”

Grant had heard people make that statement—“I’m so sorry”— many times. Usually it was the coinage of polite conversation. They weren’t really sorry at all, and Matthew Grant liked all things to be as they really were. But he could see this young woman really was sorry, and it stunned him slightly.

He opened his lips to respond, but at that moment Serafina came out and called, “Dora, would you come inside, please?”

“Yes, Serafina.” Dora turned and said in her small voice, “Good day, Inspector Grant.”

Grant nodded, put on his hat, and walked away. As soon as Dora reached the steps, Serafina asked, “What was he saying to you?”

“He didn’t say much.”

“He’s a very hard man, Dora.”

“He’s had a terrible life, Serafina. He lost his parents, and he had to go live in a workhouse just like in that book
Oliver Twist.”

“That would be hard for any individual, I think.”

Aldora watched as Grant got into his carriage. She touched her hair, then said tentatively, “He’s rather nice, isn’t he?”

Serafina could not restrain a smile. She put her arm around Dora and said, “You would think Judas Iscariot was nice.Now come into the house.”