Page 5 of A Measure of Menace

I hesitated to question Inspector McGregor as well, understanding why Lord Clifford wanted his own name kept out of this situation. My concern was more for Cynthia than her father, but I knew Inspector McGregor could fix upon a suspect and squeeze him until he was a pathetic pulp of a human being.

“Angel of mercy, indeed,” I muttered.

“What’s that, Mrs. H.?” Tess looked up at me.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m off to scatter largesse.”

I took up my basket and a shawl and went up the outside stairs. It was my habit to distribute the food scraps to the hungry who would gather near the house at this hour, knowing of my generosity. The food would be thrown away if not eaten, so why let it go to waste?

I did not see James, Daniel’s son, who sometimes lingered, both to make certain I was unharmed by those who swarmed to me or to offer his services as an errand runner. The fact that James was nowhere in sight did not mean he wasn’t lurking. I sent the shadows a significant glance, hoping James, if there, would understand my silent message.

Whether James had been present or not, once the rest of the staff and Lord Clifford had gone to bed later that night, a quiet knock sounded on the back door. I opened it to find Daniel McAdam on the doorstep.

Chapter 3

These days when Daniel, a delivery man with thick dark hair and very blue eyes, visited at night, he greeted me with a soft but fiery kiss. He did so this night as well.

One day I’d succumb to him. Whether that surrender would be wise and beautiful or a very foolish action, I had not yet decided.

For now, I returned the kiss with warmth and led him into my kitchen.

I always held a dish back for Daniel in anticipation of his visits. Tonight, it was a portion of the bubble and squeak, which I’d topped with extra sausage. Daniel’s eyes widened appreciatively when I slid the plate in front of him at the table.

“Lord Clifford is here,” I said.

Daniel froze in the act of taking his first bite. He stared up at me then continued to masticate, his expression changing from consternation to blissful enjoyment.

He swallowed. “This is heaven, Kat.”

I pretended not to warm to his praise as I sat down across from him. “It is nought but cabbage and potatoes. For peasants to eat after a long day in the fields.”

“Lucky peasants, if you cooked it for them.” Daniel’s sincerity radiated. “Lord Clifford arrived, you say? That is interesting.”

“It is a devilish nuisance, you mean. And he’s gotten himself into a bit of bother, which is no amazing thing.”

As Daniel continued eating—really, he must starve himself all the day long the way he shoveled it in—I related Lord Clifford’s tale.

“I see he is as wily as ever,” Daniel said when I’d finished. He scraped up the last of the gravy with his fork. “Though not as wily as he believes, from what you say. I agree that his friend Jacoby was about to fleece Lord Clifford as much as he’d intended to fleece Mr. Dougherty.” He licked the fork clean.

“Great luck for Lord Clifford that the moneylender was killed.” I rose to fetch the kettle I’d set on the stove and carried it to the table. “Which is what the police will say.”

I poured a trickle of very hot water from the kettle into the teapot, letting the sound soothe me. I set the lid back on the teapot and returned the kettle to the stove.

“Plenty of people will benefit from Mobley the Moneylender being no more,” Daniel said as I reseated myself. “Not only Lord Clifford.”

“Which means anyone in London could have killed the man,” I said, discouraged.

Daniel shook his head. “Not anyone. This murderer would have to get past the toughs Mobley surrounded himself with, or be someone Mobley would trust. If someone desperate rushed past the ruffians, the murderer might have been killed as well.”

“And their body dropped into the Thames,” I finished. “In that case, we might never know who killed Mobley.”

“Unless the police interrogate said toughs. Though I imagine those Mobley employed have discreetly disappeared or at least found a new post.”

“If it was someone Mobley trusted, it might have been a friend,” I mused. “Or a brother or cousin. Or one of his own ruffians.”

“It is certainly worth looking into. I haven’t heard of Mobley, but I know men in the moneylending business. One of them might have some knowledge of what happened.”

Mobley’s rivals, Daniel meant. In the underworld, criminals kept themselves informed of one another’s actions. One had to be careful not to intrude on the wrong patch.

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