Page 8 of Murder at Somerset House (A Wrexford & Sloane Mystery #9)

“T he monkey is still on the loose.” Raven tossed aside the copy of the morning newspaper that he had just finished perusing. “And the reward has been raised to ten guineas.”

“I don’t suppose m’lady would let us—” ventured Hawk.

“Ha!” Raven added a very rude sound. “And pigs might fly.”

“If it hadn’t been for the bullet hole, we might have had a fighting chance to plead our case,” reasoned Peregrine.

“Oiy, she and Wrex tend to get a bit squeamish when the possibility of mortal peril is involved.”

“The newspaper mentioned a murder at Somerset House,” mused Raven.

“It’s also right on the river, not far from where we were last night.

” A pause. “I don’t think Wrex and m’lady could object if we visit some of our urchins friends who live in the area and ask whether they observed anything suspicious.

That way, if we learn something, we can pass it on them, and they in turn can tell Mr. Griffin. ”

“I suppose not,” agreed Peregrine.

“And if we just happened to to spot the monkey …”

Hawk grinned, and then rose in a flash, startling Harper out of his slumber by the hearth. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

The hound pricked up his ears.

“Sorry, you’re far too noticeable, Harper. You have to stay here.”

A gusty canine sigh sounded as the Weasels headed for the door.

Wrexford hurriedly finished transcribing his scientific notes into his logbook, then put aside all thoughts of chemistry to concentrate on …

Murder.

Yet again.

Charlotte wouldn’t be happy about his decision.

But she would understand and applaud it.

For her, there was never a question of whether friendship and loyalty took precedence over personal matters.

And so his search for the mysterious “A” with whom his father had an intimate correspondence would once again have to be delayed.

The day looked to be overcast and chilly.

After donning his overcoat, he summoned his carriage and set off for Somerset House, the logical place to begin an investigation into the tragic turn of events.

But after turning onto the Strand and passing St. Martin’s Church, he decided to walk the rest of way, in order to clear his head and compose the first list of questions that would— Deo volente —eventually lead him to the Truth.

Gulls dipped and darted overhead, white flashes against the gunpowder-grey clouds. The air felt heavy with impending rain.

In a sense, he was killing two birds with one stone, thought Wrexford with a touch of gallows humor. According to Egg, Lord Bethany had witnessed the entire quarrel, so the secretary should be delighted that he had changed his mind about investigating.

“Until I ask the first uncomfortable question,” uttered the earl.

The wind gusted, grabbing at the capes of his overcoat. After another look at the river, whose swirling currents suddenly conjured up a fanciful image of serpents writhing just below the surface, the earl turned and hurried on to his destination.

“Lord Wrexford.” Bethany looked up in surprise as one of the porters escorted the earl into the secretary’s office. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he responded, which drew an even more quizzical expression.

“You did ask me to investigate Boyleston’s murder,” explained Wrexford, “and I have decided to do so.”

“But …” Bethany blinked in confusion. “But there’s no further need.

I’ve just been informed that your Runner, Mr. Griffin, has made an arrest.” A mournful sigh.

“It doesn’t reflect well on our learned Society that one of our members would turn so violent.

But alas, I fear that grief had gnawed away at Redding’s mind until he lost all sense of reason. ”

“From what I have heard, the evidence against Redding is merely circumstantial.”

“B-But who else would have committed such a heinous act?” stammered the secretary.

“That’s precisely the question that needs to be asked.

” Without asking for permission, Wrexford took a seat in the chair facing the stately mahogany desk.

“It seems that Redding was arrested for the murder simply because the weapon found at the scene of the crime was crafted by his brother-in-law, Durs Egg. And yet Egg has assured me that the pistol was not owned by Redding.”

A sniff. “Clearly the fellow is lying out of loyalty.”

“On the contrary,” said Wrexford. “I know Durs Egg to be a man of great integrity and bone-deep honor.”

Bethany leaned back in his chair. “I—I don’t know what to say, milord. Griffin—”

“I shall be chatting with Griffin later. But first, I wish to ask you some questions, as I’ve been told that you witnessed the altercation.”

The secretary’s lips puckered in distaste. “I would prefer not to recall that unpleasantness.”

“Even if it means sending an innocent man—and longtime colleague—to the gallows?”

Bethany had the grace to flush. “I did not mean …” He cleared his throat. “I shall, of course, do my duty to ensure that justice is done.”

“I expected no less,” replied the earl. “So please begin by describing exactly what happened as Boyleston stepped down from the stage.”

“It was Milford who first confronted Boyleston and challenged his scientific findings …”

Wrexford listened intently, interrupting frequently to clarify how the argument escalated into personal insults and then turned truly ugly with veiled accusations of aiding the enemy.

“So, both Milford and Redding exchanged nasty words with the victim,” observed the earl, once he had guided the secretary through his grudging account of the quarrel. “Anyone else?”

“There was a small crowd gathered around them, some of whom muttered in sympathy with Redding,” replied Bethany. “Most of the audience chose to avoid the unpleasantness and went directly to the reception hall for the post-lecture refreshments.”

“Can you name the gentlemen who stayed behind to listen to the argument?”

Bethany blew out his breath, his brow furrowing in thought as he took some time to consider the question.

“I was there, of course … and Elias Fogg was standing close to me. I—I believe he also had harsh words for Boyleston.” A querulous frown.

“I simply can’t remember exactly who else.

It didn’t occur to me that I might be interrogated on the incident. ”

“As I said, I am simply trying to ensure that justice is done,” responded Wrexford. “If you recall anyone else—”

“Wait, there was someone else,” said Bethany, “though he must have been a guest of one of our members because I didn’t recognize him.”

“Can you describe him?”

“A tall, distinguished fellow,” answered the secretary.

“Silvery hair, thick side-whiskers accentuating a pointed chin, well-tailored evening coat, and blue silk sash, so perhaps he was a visiting diplomat. He spoke perfect English, but there might have been a hint of an accent.” A pause.

“The fellow was very affable. During the refreshment hour, he joined a conversation that a group of us were having on the Chelsea Physic Garden and its latest delivery of medicinal plant specimens from America. His questions were quite thoughtful.”

Wrexford considered the information. “Have you no idea who invited him?”

Bethany shook his head.

“Perhaps the Society’s staff would know,” mused the earl.

“In any case, I would like to talk with the porters and footmen who were on duty for the meeting.” Servants were keen observers and were more apt to have noticed the coming and goings of the members throughout the evening.

“And I would like a full list of all the members who were in attendance.”

A pained sigh. “Is that really necessary, milord?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

With ill-concealed reluctance, Bethany summoned a servant with a shrill ring of the handbell on his desk. “Hopkins will arrange it for you.” After returning the bell to its place by the inkwell, he picked up his pen. “Have you any further questions for me?”

“No.” Wrexford rose. “Not at the moment.”

Rendered unrecognizable by their soot-smeared faces and ragged clothing, the Weasels crept out of the mews located behind the back gardens and shimmied into a narrow alley through a loose plank in the high wooden fence.

From there, a network of footpaths, a world within a world, well hidden from the elegant walkways of the beau monde, took them to the southeast corner of Hyde Park and a roundabout route through Green Park and the northern edge of St. James’s Park.

“Should we have a look around the warehouse, as well as the area around Somerset House, and see if we can learn anything more about the dastard who shot at you?” said Hawk to his brother as the three of them headed east and joined the flow of foot traffic along the Strand.

Raven shook his head. “Wrex and m’lady told me in no uncertain terms that we must stay away from the place.”

“Well, that’s that,” replied Hawk. “House rules strictly forbid disobeying a direct order.”

“Neither of them said anything about avoiding Somerset House and the surrounding area?” asked Peregrine.

“Not a peep,” answered Raven with a note of satisfaction. “Griffin told Mac that Wrex refused to get involved in the investigation.”

“So that leaves us free to see if we can uncover anything useful,” observed Peregrine.

“Precisely.” Raven gestured for them to quicken their pace.

“Ollie-Oyster loiters around the Surrey Stairs by Somerset House most nights, making a few farthings by offering to fetch a hackney or summon a wherry to cross the river for the gentlemen who frequent the Royal Society. And Billy Bones and his gang prowl the area looking for any bits and bobs that they can sell to the rag-and-bone men.”

Another jingle of his purse. “One of them may have seen something useful.”

It took a bit of poking around to find their raggle-taggle friends, whose activities tended to be done under the cover of night. But the effort proved worthwhile. Billy Bones and his companions had been working farther east, around the temple gardens. However …

“Oiy, we need to head back right away and present Wrex with what we have learned,” said Hawk, once they had finished questioning Ollie-Oyster and tucked the papers that the urchin had given them into their pockets.

Wrexford left Somerset House with more questions than answers.

None of the staff had noticed any suspicious comings and goings during the post-lecture reception.

But by their accounts, the members kept them so harried with constant demands for food and spirits that the evening had passed in a blur.

Still, it bothered him that nobody could explain the stranger circulating through the reception.

It would be a tedious chore to interview all the attendees in order to determine who had invited him.

But first things first , he decided. His next stop was Bow Street and the building housing the magistracy, where he hoped to find Griffin within the cupboard-sized confines of his office.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” inquired the Runner, holding up a hand to halt the earl’s initial rapid-fire questions concerning Redding’s arrest.

“Because it galls me to think that a miscarriage of justice is taking place,” answered Wrexford. “And as I know your sense of integrity is just as finely honed, I’m surprised that you’ve made an arrest based solely on the evidence of the pistol found at the scene of the crime.”

“The coincidence is too important to ignore—”

“Oh, be damned with the bloody coincidence. The scenario smells as rotten as five-day-old fish. You even admitted so yourself when you first came to see me about the murder.”

Griffin maintained a stoic face. Only a momentary ripple in his eyes betrayed a reaction to the criticism. “Since you’re so knowledgeable about my profession and its protocols, milord, did it not occur to you that a decision about an arrest is not always solely mine to make?”

Wrexford drew in a breath and let it out in a sharp exhale. “Forgive me. I should have guessed that there are other forces at play.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” responded Griffin in a low voice.

“But as you well know, the Royal Society has a number of powerful gentlemen as members—including yourself. And I daresay they have put pressure on my superiors to have the case closed as quickly as possible to avoid the embarrassment of having the less respectable newspapers and broadsheets sully their name with lurid headlines.”

The Runner’s jaw tightened in frustration. “So for the moment, my hands are tied.”

“Well, then it’s fortunate that I feel no such constraints.” The earl perched a hip on a corner of the Runner’s small desk and leaned in a little closer. “Have you any information to pass on that may be of help?”

“To be honest, milord, I never had a chance to do more than have a meeting with Durs Egg concerning the provenance of the pistol before I was, shall we say, encouraged to arrest Redding before he could abscond.”

“Justice demands that we not allow power or influence to obstruct the path to the Truth,” replied Wrexford.

“I did learn one other detail during my visit to Somerset House that merits further investigation.” He quickly explained about the unidentified stranger who was present at the Royal Society’s meeting.

“I shall make discreet inquiries and see if I can identify him.”

“I’ll have another talk with Redding, who is currently ensconced in Newgate Prison,” said Griffin. “Perhaps he can help.”

“Also ask him if he’s made any recent enemies,” replied the earl. “Though I have a feeling the answer to the crime won’t prove to be as simple as personal grudges or jealousies.”