Page 43

“Good.” Stokes rose, gathered the statements, the coat, and the gloves, then surveyed the crowd in his office. “An excellent morning’s work all around. I’m off to see the Commissioner to get permission to act on this evidence.”

Stokes moved toward the door, and the others made way for him to leave the office.

Once he had, O’Donnell and Morgan eagerly asked about what Penelope, Jordan, and Ruth had found, and the company spent several minutes trading stories of the morning’s events.

Then Stokes was back, his expression caught between a satisfied grin and a frown. When everyone looked at him, he grunted. “The verdict is that, yes, we can arrest Keeble for the murder of Thomas Cardwell. The caveat is that, today being Sunday, we can’t do so until tomorrow.”

Barnaby thought, then waggled his head. “The delay shouldn’t be an issue.”

“No,” Stokes admitted, “but the other point the Commissioner made, once he’d taken a gander at our evidence, is that he feels the case, while being strong on the physical evidence, is weak when it comes to motive.”

Penelope pursed her lips. “He’s right about that.” She glanced at Jordan. “As we concluded yesterday, Keeble must have an extremely powerful motive we’ve yet to uncover.”

Jordan nodded. “And that motive has to derive from his business, and any evidence of it will be buried in his ledgers.”

Barnaby considered that, then looked at Stokes. “We need to catch him off guard so he has no chance of destroying that evidence.”

Stokes nodded. “We should plan to have his arrest and a major search occur virtually simultaneously.”

“We need,” Jordan stated with a glance at Ruth, “to learn what fact was powerful enough to spur a man like Keeble to kill to hide it.”

Barnaby looked at the faces around him. “We’re almost there, and it’s Sunday. Given our enforced hiatus, I suggest we should take the time for a pre-celebratory luncheon at Johnson’s.”

Johnson’s Steak House was an eatery nearby of the sort where O’Donnell, Morgan, and Walsh could join the party.

Penelope smiled and rose. “I agree.” She took Barnaby’s arm. “And after enjoying our well-deserved reward for all our hard work thus far, we can make our plans for tomorrow and discuss how best to ensure we learn all of Keeble’s secrets.”

After enjoying the camaraderie about the shared luncheon table, Jordan hailed a hackney and escorted Ruth home to Finsbury Circus.

After descending from the carriage, Ruth glanced at the house, then looked at the park and tipped her head toward the walks beneath the trees. “Can we sit in the park for a little while?” She blushed. “If you have time, that is.”

“I have time.” Jordan reached for her hand and wound her arm in his and turned their steps across the cobbles.

As they passed into the cool shade beneath the trees, many now bursting into leaf, Ruth sighed.

“I feel so…discombobulated. Uplifted by the news that we know who the murderer is, then I think of Thomas—” She broke off, then went on, her voice softer, “It’s so strange.

I feel like he’s still here, and in my head, I’m turning to tell him… about his murderer.”

Jordan glanced at her face, then steered her to an unoccupied bench.

She sat, and he sat beside her, and as they looked out at the well-tended lawn, he closed one of his hands about one of hers. Gently. In support.

She didn’t seem to mind.

After a moment, she shifted her hand and lightly returned the pressure of his fingers. “Learning why Thomas died is important to me and the family. We can’t put his death behind us—can’t come to any sort of terms with it—without knowing why.”

She paused, then went on, “I’m also concerned for Gibson, and Harrison and Josh.

Josh… He’s never shared his father’s avidity regarding social status.

Because of his mother, Josh was, in a way, born to a higher rank than his father.

She might have died when he was young, yet she’s clearly had a lasting impact on how Josh sees himself.

He’s not obsessed with social climbing at all. ”

Jordan nodded. “I’ve only met him in passing, but he didn’t strike me as thinking in such terms.” He glanced sideways at Ruth. “He didn’t seem at all like Keeble. Not fussy or particular or trying to show he’s special in some way.”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “I hope that Gibson and Harrison will stand by Josh.”

Jordan gently squeezed her hand. “If they do, you can be there for them. All three of them. They’ll need others to stand beside them.”

Ruth turned her fine blue eyes on him. “Will you?”

Jordan blinked.

Ruth smiled wistfully. “They look up to you, you know. You’re the much older brother who knows what he’s doing with his life, and they don’t. They still haven’t worked that out, but interacting with you, they realize that they can and, eventually, must.”

“And will,” Jordan said. “They’re not silly, any of them. They’ll find their way if they search for it.”

“I rather think,” Ruth said, “that Fate has decreed that knowing you will be a pivotal point on their journey.”

“You give me too much credit,” Jordan said, feeling faint heat in his cheeks.

“I don’t think I do.” Ruth sighed. “But I’m dillydallying over what I wanted to ask you.”

Surprised, Jordan looked at her. “Ask away. I told you earlier—and I meant it—that with anything, anything at all, all you have to do is ask.”

“In that case”—a small smile played across Ruth’s lips—“I wanted to ask if you would…stay.” She met his eyes.

“Stay and see this through with me. Stay…and see where this leads.” She glanced down at their linked hands, then raised her gaze to meet his.

“I don’t know what might come of this”—with her free hand, she waved between them—“but I do know that I want to find out.”

“As do I.” Jordan raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, then raised his eyes to hers. “I will stay. Gladly. Like you, I don’t know what might be, but I am very certain that I want to learn what the future could hold.”

The rattle of a carriage’s wheels had them turning to watch as a hackney drew up before the Cardwells’ house. Gibson stepped down, paid the jarvey, then head hanging, shoulders slumped, walked up the steps and went inside.

Ruth looked at Jordan. “Will you come inside and help me explain what the investigators have found?”

Jordan nodded. “I’ll help, but we’ll need to hold back on the identity of the murderer for now.

” He met her gaze. “It would be unfair to burden Gibson with the news that it was Keeble, his best friend’s father, who murdered Thomas.

And we don’t want any whisper of suspicion to reach Keeble at this point. ”

Frowning, Ruth nodded. “You’re right. And there’s no telling what Gibson would do or let fall to Josh between now and tomorrow.”

“Much less what Josh might feel compelled to say or do.” Jordan enclosed her hand between both of his. “So let’s work out what we can tell them—your mother, Bobby, and Gibson—how much of the story we can share without revealing that Keeble is the murderer.”

They sat in the weak sunshine and planned for more than ten minutes, then with their agreed tale firmly fixed in their minds, rose, walked out from beneath the trees to the house, and went in to report to her family.