The Scottish Play Murder (14 page)

“No rewriting the plays?”

“We’re under command of the king to not change a word. Not that Horatio would abide any changes in any case. ’Tis for the royal troupes to eviscerate the plays for the fashionable audience.”

“You’ve seen such a play?”

“No, but I’ve heard about them. Some people who come to see us shake their heads at how Shakespeare has changed in the hands of Davenant and Killigrew. There are rumors Davenant is writing for his Duke’s Men an adaptation that makes one play from two. He’s only been given license for half of Shakespeare’s work, and so is writing new plays using the old plots and characters. Horatio would faint dead away just at the thought.” She mulled the idea of dismantling and reassembling the plays she knew and loved so well herself, and added, “I wouldn’t care to see it. Davenant spent a great deal of time imprisoned for his writings, and I think he may have deserved it.”

Ramsay shrugged one shoulder, as if shaking off something distasteful. “Dinnae say such a thing. No man deserves arrest for speaking his mind. Or even her mind. And you should think the less of it for being a writer yourself.”

She made a disparaging cluck. “Nonsense. My writings are nothing to excite anyone, let alone the king.”

“You cannae tell what may or may not annoy the king, for he is as human as anyone and subject to whims and moods. Or what might annoy someone who would speak for the king, who could be less disciplined in his thinking. If someone were to find your plays and think they were seditious, you would surely end up in the Tower yourself.”

As bleak as that prospect was, it made her laugh regardless. “You know, Diarmid, I’ve been told I’m not important enough to be sent to the Tower. I should thank you for the compliment.”

That made him chuckle. But he said, “Mark my words, Suzanne. Be careful what you write, and to whom you show it.”

She chuckled again, and promised she would. Then she thought what fun it was to while away the time talking to Ramsay.

I
t was full dark when Suzanne and Ramsay returned to the Globe. They were surprised to find Constable Pepper there, accompanied by a small contingent of soldiers numbering the same five as those who had been at the scene of Larchford’s death. One of them carried a small torch against the newly fallen night. They waited on the empty stage, flickering shadows in the small light, and Pepper sat on the steps at stage right. As Suzanne and Ramsay entered at the front, he hauled himself to his feet and approached them.

“Good evening, Mistress Thornton.”

“Constable Pepper.” Her tone made the greeting a question.

He then addressed Ramsay. “
You
. Are you Diarmid Ramsay of Edinburgh?”

Ramsay nodded. He wore a frown, for any visit from the constable promised trouble, no matter how slight, and there was no pretending otherwise.

Suzanne said, “What may we do for you, Constable?”

Pepper drew himself up to his best height, his hands behind his back and his mouth set with as much authority as he could muster among people who generally thought little of it. He said, “I have intelligence that you may have been involved in the murder of Henry, Earl of Larchford.”

Suzanne barked out a single laugh, but Ramsay’s face only went hard. “That’s utterly ridiculous,” he said.

“Where did you hear that, Pepper? Did Arturo come to you? He was saying some very silly—”

“It wasn’t your mummer. I assure you I would not act on just the word of an itinerant performer. It was a member of the peerage who mentioned this man’s name to me.”

Daniel
. Suzanne sighed. To Pepper she said, “I assure you, constable, Ramsay had nothing to do with Larchford’s murder. Arturo and Ramsay don’t get along, and Arturo said something in front of his lordship Throckmorton that was taken mistakenly.” That Daniel didn’t like Ramsay, either, was more than she was willing to share with Pepper.

“I’m also told that the three murders which happened so close together in time and place were all of men who did business together, and that Ramsay here had threatened the life of one of them the day before that man was murdered.” He addressed Ramsay again. “I’ll need to take you into custody.”

Pepper gestured to the five palace guards, who lowered their pikes at Ramsay. The Scot raised his hands in surrender to prevent precipitous attack and injury.

“I’ve done naught, Constable.”

“That will be determined by a judge and jury.” Pepper gestured to the soldiers, and spoke in a tone that suggested he truly thought Ramsay had nothing to fear from the court if he were innocent. Suzanne’s heart began to pound, for she knew well he must fear for his life if arrested, no matter how innocent. Her faith in the system was no better than most who lived in daily fear of it.

She stepped forward to place herself between the pikes and Ramsay. “Constable, this is not right! Do not arrest him, for it would be a travesty of justice!” A slight hesitation to reflect, then she added in inspiration, “And a waste of your time! I can prove that Daniel’s logic is faulty, here and now, without the need of incarceration or court proceedings. You shouldn’t go to the trouble of arresting him, only to have him released for something so obvious.” Her true meaning was plain: If he persisted in the arrest he would later be thought a fool. That cut to the heart of Pepper’s greatest concern—his reputation with the crown.

He attended to her, and waited for her to enlighten him.

“Well, then.” Suzanne knit her fingers together and clenched them hard as she focused on her line of reasoning. “Arturo came to me and said that Diarmid must have murdered all three of those men because, as you said, they knew each other and Diarmid threatened the life of one of them.”

Pepper nodded, and gestured for her to continue with all speed.

“However, he certainly did not murder Angus, for the man who did that murder was not wearing brogues, such as Diarmid wears.” Diarmid lifted a foot to show his simple, soft leather shoes. “The footprints in Angus’s room were of fashionable shoes with high heels.”

Pepper tilted his head in irritation. “You were in the room where your friend was murdered? Why did you not tell me this?”

“You had no interest in the deaths of Angus and the Spaniard. I had no reason to report anything to you. Besides, I am not your employee. Again, I have no reason to ever report anything to you.”

Pepper pressed his lips together. “Obstruction of justice. You have a responsibility to report what you see, just as any honorable woman would.”

“Well, then in future I shall.”
If it suits me
.

He nodded, glad that it was settled, and said, “Well, now you have my attention. Please tell me everything you know about all three deaths.”

“As for Larchford, I don’t think the murders are connected. The first two victims were killed with a knife, and Larchford was bludgeoned to death.”

“Larchford and the Spaniard were both murdered in the same spot. The earl was even lying atop the bloodstain of the previous murder. And all three victims knew each other. They did business together.”

“Daniel told you that?” Arturo had said the three had been seen together at the Goat and Boar, and Daniel had mentioned he knew Larchford was rumored to be involved in mercantile ventures. Suzanne once again wondered: Had Larchford been doing business with a pirate?

“Throckmorton did attest to it.”

Perhaps the dead earl had been involved in ventures even more unseemly than the ordinary buying and selling activity of the merchant class?

“And so you have nothing connecting Ramsay to any of them other than that Ramsay also did some business with Angus and the Spaniard. Certainly that would make hundreds of Londoners equally suspect. Ramsay surely is not the only man to buy goods from them.”

Pepper considered that, then grunted in grudging agreement.

Suzanne added, “Ramsay’s threat only serves to make him even less likely a suspect, because were he to have really wanted to kill the Spaniard, he could have done it right then with perfect justification, for the Spaniard attacked him. As it was, the last time they spoke they were on good terms, the Spaniard was paid, and all was well. At that point, Ramsay had no reason to kill anyone.”

Pepper grunted again, then frowned at Ramsay in another show of authority. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll let you go for the time being. But be advised your behavior will be watched closely, and anything untoward will be taken as cause for arrest.”

“Aye, constable,” said Ramsay.

To Suzanne, Pepper said, “I’ll require that you report to me everything you learn about these three cases.”

“I will.” She wondered whether he would listen if she did, and if he listened, whether he had the brain power to draw any valid conclusions. In any case, she would report what was to her advantage to report.

With that, Constable Pepper bade her and Ramsay good evening, and gestured for his five guards to accompany him from the theatre.

Suzanne watched him go, and young Christian shut and bolted the entrance door behind him. Then she turned toward the ’tiring house and found the three weird sisters standing before the upstage doors, decked out in their costumes and carrying their gnarled staffs, watching all that had just taken place in the pit. Caught eavesdropping, they all leapt to their dancing and cackling, and disappeared through the doors into the ’tiring house backstage.

Suzanne bade Ramsay good evening, whereupon he left the theatre for whatever amusements awaited him elsewhere, and she retreated to the ’tiring house herself as she blinked away the alarm of Pepper’s visit.

There she was met by Piers, waiting for her in her sitting room. He stood as she entered. “Mother, where have you been?”

“To see a play at the Lincoln’s Inn Fields.” She removed her hat and gloves, and handed them to Sheila, who went to put them away. “It was one of those new French plays, put on by the Duke’s Men.
The Ridiculous Précieuses
, by that Molière fellow. They say he’s all the rage in Paris, and I believe it. The performance was an absolute
scream
.”

“You went alone?”

“I went with our friend Ramsay.” She settled herself onto the sofa and let Piers take the far chair.

“Why would you go out with that Ramsay? Constable Pepper came to arrest him, you know.”

“Why shouldn’t I go places with Ramsay? Better that than go alone as I have done for over a year. Or not go anywhere at all, as I did for many years before that. Besides, I might not have gone to one of those new plays at all, had he not asked me to accompany him. And you should know Constable Pepper had no genuine interest in arresting Diarmid. It took but a few words to make him see there is no basis in Arturo’s accusation.”

“Diarmid, is it, then?”

She sat with her hands in her lap and tilted her head at him. “Why is it you hate him so?”

“He’s a murderer. I should think that would be enough to put you off him.”

“Nonsense. He’s no more a murderer than I am.”

“At the very least he’s a liar and a thief. He stole those necklaces in Edinburgh.”

Suzanne remembered the ruby necklace, which gave her a slight pause. But she shrugged and said, “Nobody has established that he is the same Diarmid who called himself Gordon in Scotland. There’s a great deal of territory between here and Edinburgh, and a great many men named Diarmid. Has anyone ever described any of the jewelry that was stolen?”

Piers frowned, thinking hard. “Well, not that I’ve heard.”

“Well, then. None of us knows what that Gordon fellow looks like, nor do we know what the jewels look like. What sort of coincidence would it take for that very Diarmid to land on our doorstep on the very day Daniel’s friend told him of the thief in Edinburgh?”

Piers shrugged. “I still don’t like you keeping company with him.”

“Very well, Piers, when I’m old and feeble and must surrender myself to your care, then perhaps I’ll have a mind to your opinion of with whom I should keep company.” She said it as gently as she could, smiling, but Piers was plainly not happy.

“You put us all at risk with your behavior.”

“Us all? Whom do you mean?”

“Myself, Daniel, and Horatio.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he continued. “Matthew, Liza, Christian, Louis, Arturo . . . we all are on watch for your safety.”

She shut her mouth, surprised that anyone would ever care a fig about her safety. Piers, perhaps, for they had always looked out for each other. Maybe even Horatio, who’d always had a soft spot for her. But the others. And
Daniel
. She never would have thought he cared if she lived or died. “Daniel?”

Piers nodded. “He’s half mad that you are showing interest in that
Scot
.” He said the word as if “Scot” were synonymous with “pig.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“’Tis true. Every time he sees that Ramsay his eyes turn black with hatred. Surely you’ve noticed.”

She had, but had been too amused by it to take it seriously. “You don’t think he’d try to hurt Ramsay, do you?”

Piers shrugged. “He’s not one to draw his sword without provocation, but neither is he one to hide from a fight.” There was a note in his voice that hinted at pride in his father. Remarkable in that Piers hated Daniel for failing to acknowledge him. Now suddenly the two were allied in their distrust of Ramsay. Suzanne’s faith in her new friend faltered. It was one thing for Piers to express concern, for he was always so and not always with cause. But
Daniel
. And Horatio. And the others. That was a consensus she couldn’t sneer at.
Daniel?

She said, “So now you’re allied with your father and all is patched up between the two of you?”

“On this particular subject we happen to be in full agreement. We both care about you and wish only for your safety.”

“And while you and I were fending for ourselves and he was off with the king in France, did he have the slightest care for our safety?”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“It’s both here
and
there. I was on my own for nearly twenty years, and your sole support. Daniel has no authority over me.”

“You had your patron.”

“Who is dead. And not so very worthy a patron, for that.”

“And now I’m your guardian.”

“In name.”

“In fact. I’m responsible for your behavior. I have a duty to keep you safe.”

“To keep me under control.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a man, were anything to happen to you. Particularly something I could have prevented by simply ordering you to stop keeping company with that
Scot
.” Again he spat the word.

Suzanne straightened in her seat, and leaned forward to peer into his eyes. Anger rose. The sort of crazed, flaming ire she’d always felt during the days of struggle for daily bread, knowing she would not have been in those straits had she been born a boy. “Piers Thornton, I will have you know that if you ever attempt to control me in that manner, I will part company with you in the very same way I did my father. I love you more than I can possibly ever say, but if you turn on me the way he did, I will assume you care nothing for me.”