Page 88 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
“What exactly?”
“Opium distillates. Raw morphia. Laudanum base. Aconite. Something else I didn’t recognize—maybe a proprietary blend. Whatever it is, it’s not medicine. Not anymore.”
“But he’s not distributing it himself.”
“No,” Finch said. “That part’s clean. I didn’t find any evidence of it.”
“He’s sticking to the letter of the law.” I leaned back. “The Pharmacy Act of ’68 didn’t criminalize manufacturing—only controlled who was allowed to sell. Apothecaries. Licensed chemists. But mass production in a hidden lab? That’s another matter. Would raise suspicion . . . if anyone bothered to look.”
Finch gave a grim nod. We both knew the truth: the police were overworked, distracted. One year into the Ripper investigation, and they still hadn’t found him. They had no timefor quiet operations in back alleys—even if those operations were poisoning the streets.
Finch tore a bite of beef from the slice on his plate. “One thing I can tell you—someone’s moving the product.”
“How do you know?”
“Empty shelves where crates used to be.”
I stared into the fire, jaw tightening. “What about Henry?”
“As I mentioned, he was also at Kew Gardens along with Lillian Travers and her father, George Travers. He made a packet in railroads. Seeks respectability and entry in society.”
“And he approved Henry Vale for his daughter after Phillip vouched for him.”
“Yes, well. How is your brother?”
“I shipped him off to Thornburn Abbey.”
“Bet that did not go over well.”
“He declared he’d return to London. I threatened to ship him to India if he did.”
“That’ll keep him in Yorkshire nice and tight.”
“What about the aunt, Harriet?”
“Lady Harriet manages the Vale household. From the little I could gather, she’s not well-liked by the staff. But they do as they’re told. You know how it is—a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.”
“Did you ask about Elsie?”
“Most clammed up as soon as I mentioned her name. But one brave soul shared that the young master hadn’t done right by her.”
Confirmation that Henry Vale had been the one to seduce her.
“But that’s not all I discovered.” He paused for dramatic effect and reached for the folder. “I talked to a friend about the Vale family.”
“A connection from your previous life, I imagine?”
I’d first met Finch when he stood before a magistrate, charged with a robbery he swore he hadn’t committed, even though he had a shady past. But something about the case—and the man himself—had caught my attention. I’d looked into it and found enough to prove his innocence. Once the charges were dropped, I suggested he consider a different path and lent him the funds to start his road to redemption.
He’d chosen to become an investigator and repaid me—with interest—the moment he cleared his first case. He’d proven to be not only an excellent investigator, but, I dared say, a friend.
He nodded. “He knows someone who knows someone.”
“No need to give me chapter and verse.”
“These great estates are managed through a trust.”
“I’m familiar with how trusts operate.” The Steele fortune was managed in just such a way with me as the trustee.
