Don't Look Back by Amanda Quick
“Another case?” Crackenburne asked without looking up from his newspaper.
“Mrs. Lake and I are conducting an inquiry on behalf of an old friend of hers, Dr. Howard Hudson.”
“Ah, yes, the mesmerist whose wife was found strangled.”
“I never fail to be astonished by your remarkable ability to keep up with the latest gossip.” Tobias turned his attention to the flames. “Apparently Mrs. Hudson was murdered by her lover for an ancient bracelet that she evidently stole.”
“You sound doubtful.”
“Celeste Hudson was quite beautiful, much younger than her husband, inclined to flirt, and may have been involved in an illicit love affair.”
“I see. In other words, you suspect that her husband killed her.”
“I think it is an extremely likely possibility, yes. To be sure, I do not doubt the whole tale. It is quite probable that Celeste Hudson had a lover and that the pair of them contrived to steal the antiquity. But Lavinia is convinced that Hudson is innocent of both murder and theft and only seeks justice for his dead wife. I, on the other hand, think what he really wants is to recover the antiquity that went missing that night.”
Crackenburne grunted. “I don’t wish to dampen your enthusiasm, but I must point out a potential drawback to this particular case.”
“Save your breath, I have already spotted it. If it turns out that I’m right and that Hudson did murder his wife, Lavinia and I are highly unlikely to collect our fee.”
“Um, yes.” Crackenburne folded the newspaper and peered over the rims of his spectacles. “Anything I can do for you?”
“What can you tell me about Lords Gunning and Northampton? All I know is that they reside in or near Bath and may have been clients of Hudson’s.”
Crackenburne gave the matter some thought and then shrugged. “Not much, I’m afraid. If they are the gentlemen I am thinking of, both are elderly. Both are in ill health. Both are wealthy. They have memberships in this club, but I haven’t seen them here in years.”
“That’s all?”
“I’m afraid so. But I’ll see if I can turn up more information, if you like.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Tobias said.
“I must say, I rather enjoy this detecting business of yours.” Crackenburne picked up his coffee cup. “Almost as interesting as the old days during the war when you conducted your clandestine inquiries on behalf of the Crown.”
“I’m glad that you are amused,” Tobias said. “Personally, I have concluded that my career as a spy afforded me a far simpler and more restful life and put considerably less strain on my nerves than my present occupation as Mrs. Lake’s occasional partner.”
THE BANKS MANSION WAS A VAST, GLOOMY PILE of stone in the Gothic style. Tucked away in a remote neighborhood, it rose several stories above a large, high-walled garden. The narrow windows on the upper floors were shrouded with dark drapes. In Lavinia’s opinion, the structure would have been well suited to a horrid novel featuring specters and the odd skeleton.
“Even if one did not know that the master of the house was slowly decaying inside, one could guess as much from the street,” Emeline said.
“It is a somewhat depressing place, is it not?” Lavinia banged the brass knocker. “But I suppose that is only to be expected under the circumstances. His lordship is dying, after all. And taking his time about it too.”
The housekeeper opened the door and peered out, blinking, as if the sunlight on the doorstep was unexpected and unwelcome.
“We wish to speak to Mrs. Rushton.” Lavinia put her card into the woman’s gnarled hand. “Please give her this and tell her that it is very important.”
The housekeeper stared at the card, as though puzzled by the printing, and then scowled. “Mrs. Rushton isn’t in this afternoon. She’s off getting one of her treatments.”
“Treatments?” Lavinia repeated. “What sort of treatments?”
“Got weak nerves. Started going to one of those mesmerists a few weeks ago. Does wonders for her, she says. Can’t tell the difference, if ye ask me, but the long and the short of it is, she ain’t home today.”
The housekeeper closed the door in Lavinia’s face.
Emeline’s eyes were alight with excitement. “Mrs. Rushton goes to a mesmerist.”
“Indeed.” Lavinia led the way down the steps. She did not trouble to conceal her satisfaction. “A very interesting bit of news, is it not?”
“But what does it imply?”
“I do not know where it will take us, but there is no getting around the fact that it is a connection of some sort.”
Emeline hurried after her. “When will you tell Mr. March about this latest development?”
Lavinia pondered that for a few seconds. “Tonight when I see him at the Stillwater ball. He may well turn up this information on his own. I want to be certain he knows that I got here first. I have no wish to listen to him take the credit. Quite intolerable.”
Eleven
“I FOUND OSCAR PELLING.” ANTHONY’S VOICE was strained with the effort to conceal his pride and excitement. “It wasn’t easy. I had to make inquiries at a number of inns before I discovered that he is staying at the Bear’s Head in Shuttle Lane.”
“Excellent work.” Tobias eased aside the carriage curtain and checked the night-shrouded street. It was shortly after nine. The unmistakable stench of the river told him that they were nearing their destination. “Did you learn anything of his business in Town?”
“I spoke with one of the stable lads at the inn.”
Tobias glanced at him, frowning slightly. “I trust you didn’t give yourself away? I do not want Pelling to know that we are making inquiries.”
“Of course I was careful to act very casual.” Anthony looked offended. “Just a bit of conversation about horses and the departure times of the coaches and the quality of the out-of-town gentry who selected that establishment when they came to London. That sort of thing.”
“Well, then? What did you discover?”
“Nothing alarming. As Mrs. Lake guessed, Pelling is here for the usual reasons. He is a man of some substance, after all. He has business with his bankers. The stable lad said he heard him talk about paying a visit to his tailor and boot-maker. Just the customary routine of a wealthy gentleman who does not come to London frequently.”
“Hmm.” Tobias contemplated that information. “The stable lad knew nothing of Pelling’s business affairs, I assume?”
“No, of course not. He’s a stable lad, after all.” Anthony paused a beat. “In terms of personal information, the only thing he volunteered was that Pelling was amusing himself in the evenings with one of the prostitutes who does business in the neighborhood near the inn.”
“Find the woman,” Tobias said.
Anthony swallowed and turned red. “Uh—”
“Something wrong?”
“No, not at all,” Anthony said quickly. “I’ll, uh, pursue that line of inquiry immediately.” He coughed once and cleared his throat. “I’d rather you, uh, did not mention this aspect of the investigation to Mrs. Lake or Miss Emeline, if you don’t mind.”
It dawned on Tobias that Anthony would be mortified if Emeline discovered he was interviewing prostitutes.
“No need to be concerned on that front,” he said. “I haven’t told either of them that we are looking into Pelling’s activities. I do not want to alarm them.”
“Mrs. Lake may not thank you for keeping this from her,” Anthony warned.
“If we discover nothing to concern us, she need not know about these particular inquiries. In any event, when you locate the light-skirt Pelling is bedding, come to me. I’ll handle the inquiry personally.”
Anthony looked considerably relieved. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” Tobias glanced out the window. “We have arrived.” He rapped on the roof of the hackney, signaling the coachman to stop.
The vehicle clattered to a halt. Tobias opened the door, gripped t
“Don’t forget to instruct the coachman to wait for us,” Anthony said. “We don’t want to find ourselves without transportation in this neighborhood. Not at this hour of the night.”
He jumped lightly down to the pavement with a careless ease that made Tobias sigh inwardly.
“We will be only a few minutes.” He tossed some coins to the man on the box. “Be so good as to wait for us.”
“Aye, sir.” The coachman made the coins disappear and reached for his bottle of gin. “I’ll be here when ye’ve finished yer business.”
Tobias walked toward the glowing yellow windows of the tavern. He sensed Anthony’s anticipation.
“Remember, say nothing at all until we are in Smiling Jack’s office,” he said. “Your manner of speaking will give you away instantly in this crowd. Is that quite clear?”
Anthony grimaced. “I assure you, your instructions in the fine art of disguise are as plain this time as they were the other ten times you gave them to me this evening.”
“If I tend to repeat myself, it is because I have good reason. The last thing we need tonight is a brawl with one of the patrons inside.”
“I promise you, I will not say a word.”
Tobias looked at the evil amber glow of the tavern windows and shook his head. “You will never believe it, but Lavinia actually asked me to bring her here to introduce her to Smiling Jack. She planned to disguise herself as a tavern wench.”
Anthony was startled. “Hell’s teeth. I assume you refused?”
Tobias smiled humorlessly. “One does not bring a lady to this sort of establishment. But I believe she was annoyed with me. Seemed to feel that I was trying to keep her from consulting with my contacts.”
“Which is precisely the case, is it not?”
“Yes. But it is for her own good. I cannot have her traipsing about in this part of town. She is too inclined toward reckless behavior as it is. I certainly do not want to encourage her in that direction.”
Tobias halted in front of the door of the Gryphon and gave his companion one last survey.
Anthony was garbed in the rough attire of a dockside laborer. In his heavy boots and ill-fitting trousers and coat, he looked as if he had just finished a long day unloading cargo from one of the ships moored at the nearby wharves. The shapeless hat pulled down low over his head concealed his fashionably cut hair and shielded his features from curious eyes.
Tobias had donned a similar costume for the evening’s outing. In addition to the laborer’s clothing, his slight limp added a distinct touch of authenticity to his appearance. The patrons of the Gryphon made their livings in a variety of dangerous occupations, some legal and some quite illegal. Wooden legs, missing fingers, eye patches, and scars were common among them.
“You’ll do.” Tobias pushed open the door of the smoky tavern. “Do not look anyone directly in the eye. Such an act may be taken as a rude insult.”
“I believe you mentioned that instruction several times also.” Anthony’s grin came and went in the dark shadow of his low hat. “Calm yourself. There is no need to be anxious. I will not fail you.”
“It is the possibility that I am failing you that makes me uneasy tonight,” Tobias said quietly.
Anthony turned his head sharply. “You must not think of it that way. This is my choice.”
“Enough,” Tobias said. “Let us get this business done.”
He opened the door and walked into the busy tavern, deliberately accentuating his limp. Anthony followed.
The roaring fire on the massive hearth infused the crowded room with a hellish light that suited the surroundings. The wooden benches and booths were crammed with men who had come here to drink, play cards, and flirt with the sturdily constructed serving maids.
Tobias made his way through the throng. He glanced back at one point to make sure that Anthony was close behind and saw that his companion was riveted by the sight of one of the bosomy maids. The woman’s large, swelling breasts threatened to spill out of her bodice as she bent over to serve three tankards of ale.
“They are all fashioned in a statuesque manner,” Tobias muttered. “Smiling Jack likes them that way.”
Anthony grinned.
They went down a hall and stopped at the door to Smiling Jack’s office. It stood ajar. Tobias rapped once and pushed it open.
“Good evening to you, Jack.”
Tobias did not bother to roughen his words. There was no need for pretense here in this room. He and Jack knew each other well from the old days when they had associated as spies. In his former profession as a smuggler, Jack had frequently been in a position to obtain information that had been quite useful to the Crown.
Jack had turned to a new career as a tavern owner in recent years, but his talent for collecting useful bits and pieces of gossip and rumors had not changed. He operated in this world very much as Crackenburne did in the world of a gentleman’s club.
Jack looked up from the act of pouring a brandy. He smiled broadly at the sight of Tobias and Anthony in the doorway. The expression twisted the long scar that ran from mouth to ear into a ghastly death’s head grin.
“Right on time, I see, March. As usual.” Jack squinted at Anthony with great interest. “And who’s this you’ve brought with you?”
“My brother-in-law, Anthony Sinclair.” Tobias shut the door. “You’ve heard me speak of him. I’m in the way of teaching him the business.”
“A pleasure to meet you at last, young Sinclair.” Jack chuckled. “Going into the same trade, are ye?”
“Yes, sir,” Anthony said proudly.
Jack nodded. “I like to see a business stay in the family. And you’ll not find a more skilled instructor in the art of investigatin’ than March here. Never knew anyone better at prying into other folks’ secrets. The fact that he hasn’t had his throat slit for his efforts in all these years is proof that he’s got a talent for the profession, if ye ask me.”
“Thank you for the excellent references,” Tobias muttered. “If you don’t mind I’d like to move on to a more pressing topic. I received your message this afternoon. What is it you have to tell me about Nightingale?”
“I will explain in due time. But first sit down and let me pour you both a brandy.”
Tobias took one of the unyielding straight-back chairs near the hearth. He reversed it, as was his custom, and sat astride. Anthony watched him and then quickly went through the same routine with the other chair. He folded his arms along the back, just as Tobias did, and took the glass of brandy Smiling Jack handed to him.
“I’ll admit that I’ve not had a lot of contact with Mr. Nightingale.” Smiling Jack went behind his broad desk and lowered his massive bulk into the oversize chair. “He trades in stolen antiquities, jewelry, and art. Only the finest and most valuable items. Boasts a very exclusive clientele, I’m told. An altogether higher class of business than my own humble line, I fear.”
“Nonsense.” Tobias sipped the brandy. “In my opinion there is not a great deal of difference between smuggling and tavern-keeping and the trade in stolen antiquities and art. And I’ll match you against Nightingale any day when it comes to exclusive clientele.”
Smiling Jack chuckled. “I appreciate your kind remarks, my friend. Now, then, as to Nightingale, he specializes in handling transactions between clients who prefer not to meet face-to-face for various reasons. He sets up auctions and sales for such persons.”
Anthony frowned. “How does an illegal auction work?”
Smiling Jack settled into his chair and assum
Tobias drummed his fingers on the wood chair back, thinking. “Does he ever commission thefts?”
Jack rested one hand on his large belly and pondered that. “I cannot say. But I certainly wouldn’t put it past him to take advantage of an opportunity if there was enough blunt in it.”
“You mentioned his exclusive clientele,” Tobias said. “Do you know the names of any who have done business with him?”
“No. As I said, part of what they pay for is a guarantee of absolute discretion. Nightingale provides it. His stock-in-trade is his reputation, after all. He is very careful to preserve it.”
Tobias thought of the words Lavinia had printed on her business cards: Discretion Assured. “It seems that my associate, Mrs. Lake, is not the only one who attempts to lure the more exclusive sort with a promise of discretion.”
Jack raised his beefy shoulders in a great shrug. “The proprietor of a business must do what he or she can to ensure a profit. Now, then, as you requested, I sent word to Nightingale that you wished to meet with him. He responded with such speed that I think it is safe to say he is as eager to discuss this business of the missing antiquity as you are your-self.”
“When and where?”
“I’m afraid that will be up to Nightingale. You need not concern yourself with locating him. He will find you.”
“I do not have a lot of time to waste.”
Jack grimaced. “I got the impression that you will see him soon. Very soon.”
Tobias took another swallow of brandy and lowered the glass. “What else can you tell me about Nightingale? Can you describe him?”
“We’ve met on one or two occasions, but to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t recognize him on the street if he walked up to me and offered a civil greeting. Nightingale makes it a point not to be seen in the light of day by any of his clients or business associates.”