Page 54

“Henry, what’s going on?”

But his friend was spared having to answer by the appearance of a constable on the sidewalk. “Lord Middleborough?” the man said.

“That’s me.”

“I’m Officer Fitzroy. Will you come inside, please? We have some things to discuss.”

A bit put off at being invited inside his own club, Conor nevertheless followed the constable inside and over to one of his tables. “What’s going on?” he asked, taking a seat. “I’m sure my associate, Mr. Wilson, has told you that I’ve been away from the business for a few weeks due to having married recently, so I’m not caught up on the latest events here.”

“The event we’re here to discuss took place just this morning,” Officer Fitzroy said. “So you’re as caught up as anybody else is. Lord Middleborough, there’s been a murder.”

“Murder?” The word rang like a gong in Conor’s head, loud and painful and disorienting. “I don’t understand.”

“A man was found dead on the premises this morning.”

“Who’s been killed?” Conor asked.

“Lord Christopher Hayward.”

It took Conor a moment to recognize the name. Lord Hayward was a frequent patron at the Angry Boar, a crony of Killian O’Flannagan and a perpetuator of the vile rumors that seemed to follow Conor wherever he went. He was an unpleasant man, the kind who kicked dogs in the streets and leered at women and children to frighten them.

Conor had never known him well. He would have recognized him on sight, but he hadn’t had a conversation with the man, and he had to work hard to associate the name he was hearing with the face of the bully he remembered. At last, he made the connection.

“I see you know who he is,” Officer Fitzroy said.

“Not well,” Conor said. “I know of him by reputation, mostly. And I see him around. We’ve never been friends.”

“He’s a friend of a business rival of yours, in fact,” Officer Fitzroy said. “Isn’t that right?”

“I assume you’re referring to Killian O’Flannagan,” Conor said. “I’ve seen them keeping company together, yes.”

“You assume I’m referring to O’Flannagan?” Fitzroy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have more business rivals, Lord Middleborough?”

Conor was slightly taken aback. He wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to in such a harsh way. But perhaps this was just the way police officers conducted their affairs. “No,” he said. “I was only trying to clarify what we were talking about.”

Fitzroy nodded. “Hayward wasn’t a regular patron here at your establishment, was he?”

“He never came here,” Henry said. “He always drank at the Angry Boar. That’s O’Flannagan’s pub,” he clarified. “There’s really no overlap between our patrons and theirs.”

“In that case,” Fitzroy said. “How do you account for the fact that Hayward was here at The Arc last night?”

Conor blinked. “He was?”

“Come, now, Lord Middleborough. You can’t expect me to believe you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” Conor said. “I was at home with my wife last night. Today is the first day I’ve come into the club in weeks.”

“You’re telling me that the first day you’ve come into the club in weeks just happens to be the morning after the murder of one of your rivals?”

“Henry will tell you,” Conor said. “He actually came to my home to persuade me to come back. I didn’t want to leave my wife’s side.”

Officer Fitzroy turned to Henry. “What do you say?”

“Well…that’s true,” Henry said. “But it was a few days ago that I went to Middleborough Manor. It’s not as if it was last night.”

“But I wasn’t here last night,” Conor said. “Tell him.”

“I didn’t see you,” Henry said doubtfully.