Who Thinks Evil: A Professor Moriarty Novel (Professor Moriarty Novels) (12 page)

Sir Anthony raised an admonishing hand. “Let us get back to the matter at hand.”

His Grace the Duke of Shorham continued glaring at Moriarty for some moments, but then turned his eyes elsewhere and sighed. “Even so,” he agreed, “but what assurance have we that Professor Moriarty’s assistance will be forthcoming once he leaves this building? Perhaps, having been released from prison, he will merely fade away, never to be seen again.”

Moriarty smiled widely. “You have the word of a gentleman,” he told them.

The Earl of Scully sniffed. Sir Anthony looked doubtful.

“Being gentlemen yourselves, you should have a good idea of what such a word is worth. Perhaps more reassuring is the pardon you have promised me should I undertake this. Clearly it is better to walk in the light of day with a pardon than to skulk in corners hunted by the police, however inadequate they may be to the task.”

“That’s so,” Sir Anthony agreed.

“Add to that the fact that my first trial resulted in a hung jury, and that I fully expect to be found not guilty in the next, should there be a next.”

“Is that so?” Epp demanded. “In that case, and as you disapprove of the ‘upper classes’ anyway, why are you bothering to listen to us at all? Why not just wait in your cell for redemption?”

“Your problem is an interesting one,” Moriarty told him. “A missing man of high—the highest—station, a possible murderer and fiend, who must be located and retrieved quickly and without fuss. I can see the great danger to the government and the monarchy should he not be found.”

“A noble sentiment,” said Sir Anthony.

“Also, I confess that my cell is a bit too damp for prolonged occupation and a bit too chill for extended scientific meditation,” Moriarty added. “Now, to the matter at hand. The questions are clear; the answers less so at the moment. If His Highness is doing this, why? If he is not, and some agency has abducted him and is making it seem that he is guilty, again why?” He turned to the Earl of Scully. “No demands of any sort have been made, I take it?”

“None.”

“What has been done so far?”

The earl looked at Epp, who responded, “Given the situation, there hasn’t been much we could do. The uniformed force has been instructed to report any sightings of the prince, but we’ve put it to them as a minor exercise in keeping peace among the royals. Her Majesty doesn’t like her grandson being out on his own, him only being twenty-six, so she’d like an eye kept on him. That’s the story as they’ve heard it.”

“Anything else?”

“We’ve had people look in all the places he might be expected to go, including several obscure royal properties in Scotland and Wales, as well as the houses of his associates.”

“Required a bit of finesse, that did,” Sir Anthony commented. “I mean we couldn’t just walk in and ask, ‘You haven’t seen the prince wandering about here anywhere, have you?’ It might have started talk.”

“We’re looking into various other rabbit holes as well,” Epp went on. “Even going so far as to send men into all the opium dens in the East End. We couldn’t actually raid them for obvious reasons.” He shook his head. “So far—no rabbit.”

“What assistance may I expect?” Moriarty asked.

“Whatever you require that can be managed without revealing the, ah, ultimate purpose of the requested assistance,” Sir Anthony told him. “You shall report to Mr. Epp, and he or one of his men will accompany you.”

“I don’t think so,” Moriarty said.

“What?”

“I’ll pass on whatever information I glean to Mr. Epp, but I will not be accompanied by anyone, least of all a Scotland Yard man.”

“You see, Your Grace,” Epp said, waggling a reprimanding thumb in the air, “he has no intention of assisting. He’s trying to get shot of us right off, and that’s the truth of it!”

“Come now, Professor,” the Duke of Shorham rumbled, pushing forward in his chair. “Surely you will grant that to be an elementary precaution in a case like this.”

“Precaution against what?” asked Moriarty. “I have no objection against Mr. Epp remaining available for me to pass on whatever information I feel will be of interest. Then he can do with it whatever you gentlemen require of him.”

“But surely, sir,” the duke blustered, “you must understand—”

“I’m going to be requiring the assistance of people who can smell a ‘copper’ ten furlongs off, downwind,” Moriarty said. “It would probably be best if I didn’t bring one with me, and, as you don’t want them, or anyone, to have any hint as to what I’m trying to accomplish, we should avoid any hint of official connivance in my inquiries. This job will be difficult enough without your attempting to shackle me to an official escort at the outset.”

“I don’t think you understand,” said the duke. “Mr. Epp is Number Six.”

Moriarty frowned and shook his head. “That means nothing to me,” he said. “Number six at what?”

Epp smiled a tight smile. “I don’t think he’ll be impressed, Your Grace,” he said.

Sir Anthony rubbed his palms together, his hands in front of his face. “You’ve heard of the ‘Big Five’?” he asked Moriarty.

Moriarty nodded. “The heads of the five divisions—excuse me, departments—of Scotland Yard,” he said.

“There is a sixth department,” said Sir Anthony.

Moriarty considered. “Ah!” he said.

“It is not general knowledge,” Sir Anthony explained. “Even in the Yard. As a matter of fact, its members are called ‘the Invisibles’ by those who do know of them. Mr. Epp is the undercommissioner in charge of Department Six. Thus he is known informally at the Yard as ‘Number Six.’”

“What does this department do?” Moriarty asked.

Epp spoke up. “Whatever is required of them.”

“They take the jobs that the others cannot handle,” said Sir Anthony. “Particularly where it is desirable that the connection to Scotland Yard is not evident. Their men are picked for their intelligence and their discretion.”

“An interesting notion,” Moriarty said. “Intelligent policemen.”

“Now, then,” Epp said.

Moriarty considered a mole on the duke’s neck for a moment. “It would seem to me that Mr. Epp must be invaluable where he is. Are you sure you should spare him from his important work merely to follow me around? Are there not other incidents or events that should occupy his attention?”

“At the moment,” said the duke, “there is nothing more important than what you will be doing. What, I should say, we surmise you will be doing.”

“Very well,” Moriarty said, pursing his lips. “If Mr. Epp or one of his minions wants to accompany me he may, provided he makes no effort to follow me where I tell him it’s inadvisable. He must take my word for that.”

“Very well,” said the duke. “If we’re going to trust you to do this, we might as well start off by trusting you. Where do you wish to begin?”

“I shall begin by examining the sites of the two murders,” Moriarty told him, “and for that Epp’s assistance will be useful, and gratefully accepted. I must find some indication, however slender, of the direction in which the truth may lie.”

Sir Anthony shook his head. “There’s nothing of any value to be found at either place, I assure you,” he said.

“Nonetheless I shall look,” said Moriarty. “Let us hope you’re mistaken.”

“Very well.”

“One suggestion,” Moriarty added. “Have your people be alert for any word of this leaking out, or any rumor that is suggestive of a problem among the royals.”

“Yes,” Sir Anthony said. “Of course. We’re doing that already.”

“Then try to, delicately, ascertain where and how the rumor originated. If His Highness is, indeed, not responsible for these acts, then someone is going to a lot of trouble to make it seem that he is—and at some point they’re going to want to make the matter public.”

“My God!” exclaimed the Duke of Shorham. “That could bring down the government. Why, if the people thought we were concealing it from them, it could well threaten the monarchy.”

“Exactly,” said Moriarty.

“My God!”

[CHAPTER TEN]

ROSE’S ROOM

Aliorum vulnus nostra sit cautio.

(Let us take warning from another’s wound.)

—ST. JEROME

THE FOUR-HORSE CARRIAGE PULLED UP
in front of Mollie’s establishment on Gladston Square in early evening. The gas mantle above the front door was unlit, and the few lights that shone through the windows on the upper floor were soft and subdued, the curtains drawn closed to keep out the night. The porter was long in answering the pull of the bell cord, and he looked curiously out at the two well-dressed visitors and the ornate carriage from which they had emerged as though he had no idea why they might be standing there. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Miss Mollie is not entertaining clients at present. I trust this causes you no inconvenience.”

“I am Epp of Scotland Yard, and this is Professor Moriarty,” Epp said, pointing a bony finger at the professor. “We have come about the murdered girl, Rose. You might remember—I was here before.”

“Was you now?”

“With the police,” Epp explained. “I’ve come back to look at the girl’s room.”

The porter looked out at the carriage again and then back at Epp. “The police, you say?”

“Indeed.”

“Scotland Yard?”

“That’s correct, my man.
Idem quod
. Is there a problem?”

“Not if you say there ain’t, then there ain’t.”

“Good. About the girl?”

“They’ve taken poor Rose away,” said the porter. “As is no more than right. She lay there for two days before anyone thought to move her, and then I truly believe it was more the smell than the propriety of the thing. You Scotland Yard people are a thoughtless and peculiar lot, is what I say.”

Moriarty stepped forward. “The room,” he asked sharply, “has it been disturbed?”

“The room in what she died?”

“That room.”

“Hasn’t nobody been in it since they took the body out. The missus says as how we’ll have to clean it up, but none of us managed to get it done yet.”

“Good, good!” Moriarty rubbed his hands together in obvious delight. “Here is a stroke of unexpected good fortune.”

The porter stared at him and then shook his head slowly. “A peculiar lot, I says, and a strange and peculiar lot you is—if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“It’s no more than the truth,” Moriarty agreed. “A strange and peculiar lot we are indeed. May we come in?”

“If you’ve a mind to,” the porter agreed. “Settle yourselves down in the front room while I fetch Miss Mollie.”

Mollie appeared at the head of the stairs two minutes later dressed all in black. Perhaps a bit more form-fitting than was absolutely proper for mourning garb, but all in black nonetheless. “Gentlemen,” she said, holding the bannister tightly as she descended. “I’m Mollie Cobby, the proprietress of this establishment. I understand you wish to look at poor Rose’s room. I don’t know what sense of morbid curiosity has brought you hither—”

“I am with Scotland Yard, madam,” Epp interrupted her, “and this is my, ah, colleague Professor James Moriarty. Morbid curiosity is, you might say, his
ignis fatuus
.”

“Is it indeed?” Mollie stared at Moriarty for a second and then turned her attention back to Epp. “You coppers have already thoroughly knocked about in poor Rose’s room,” she said. “Why would you want to return?”

“We don’t wish to inconvenience you,” Moriarty told Mollie. “I hope to discover some indications of the murderer: his appearance, his method, his motive, his provenance, and possibly from whence he came.”

“From an empty room?”

“Even so,” Moriarty said. “Depending perhaps on just how much knocking about the authorities have done. Has anyone aside from the police been in the room?”

Mollie shook her head. “I haven’t had the stomach to have it cleaned up. The business is closed, and I’ve sent the girls away for a fortnight to give them something else to think about. I’ll be using the time to paint a little and put down new carpets, and I suppose I’ll have to get to that room before the girls return, but it will wait.”

“With your permission,” Moriarty said, “I should very much like to visit the room.”

Mollie looked sharply at each of them and considered. “Very well, then. Follow me.”

They climbed the stairs. The light in the upstairs hallway was low, and the bedroom doors were all closed. From behind one of the doors came the soft, insistent sound of a woman sobbing. Epp gave an involuntary shudder and tried to banish from his mind the superstitious images conjured up by the sound. Moriarty looked at Mollie and raised an interrogative eyebrow.

“Pamela, that is,” Mollie told him. “Calls herself ‘Heather’ while she’s working for some reason. Her specialty is—well, no reason to concern you gentlemen with that. She was hiding in the wardrobe in that room while Rose was … what happened to Rose, and she hasn’t been right in the head since. She didn’t see nothing, mind you. At least I don’t think she did. She hasn’t talked about it. She hasn’t talked about anything much since … that night. She wouldn’t leave with the other girls. Said she had nowhere to go. I told her to stay at a guest house at Bath what I know of. She said she didn’t know anyone at Bath, and anyway she’d rather stay here. She’s been crying like that, no loud blubbering, just quiet and steady, pretty much since it happened. She was Rose’s special friend.”

“What does that mean,” Epp asked suspiciously, “‘special friend’?”

“I would like to speak with Pamela after I examine the room,” Moriarty said.

“I wish you would,” Mollie told him. “Talking about it might serve to take her mind off it, if you see what I mean. That sounds kind of contrariwise, but…”

“I do see, Miss Mollie,” Moriarty told her. He moved down the hall. “Is this the room?” he asked, stopping in front of a door.

She said, “It is,” and took a deep breath. “I will await you downstairs, if you’ve no objection.”

“None,” Moriarty said, “and I thank you.”

“You ain’t no copper,” Mollie said. “They ain’t got much thanks in them.”

Moriarty pulled open the door. The room was as it had been four days before when a prince had disappeared and a girl had died. Except, of course, that Rose’s body had been removed. “Light that wall sconce, if you don’t mind,” Moriarty said, and Epp took out a pack of lucifers and turned on the gas. “As bright as it will go,” Moriarty directed.