Page 38 of Dead Beside the Thames
Satchwell clearly thought back, then nodded decisively. “Yes. He came up to me and congratulated me on the event.”
“Any idea when that was?”
Satchwell frowned. “Later. I know that much. We kicked off at midnight, so it must have been about two-thirty or three?” He grimaced. “Some time about then.”
Charlie thought, then asked, “What would be my chances of finding any of your guests who might remember seeing Hale during the party?”
Satchwell gave a choked laugh. “I’d be truly surprised if anyone could say where anyone else was at any given time. The brandy was flowing freely, and the room was so crowded that people were constantly going in and out, not just to enjoy the delights downstairs but into the corridors so they could chat without shouting.” Satchwell met Charlie’s eyes. “You know how such events go. Everyone was free to come and go and return as they pleased.”
Charlie sighed, but nodded. “Thank you. At least I know what the situation was with your party.”
He rose, and Satchwell caught his eye. “I assume this is something to do with that devil, Sedbury, turning up dead. If you want my opinion, if Jonathon or any of the Hales had wanted to bump the man off, they would have done so years ago. He’s been a bane on their existence for the last decade at least.”
Soberly, Charlie replied, “I agree, but sadly, the law wants facts.”
“Well, good luck with finding them.” Satchwell sat back and shook out the news sheet. “Jonathon’s all right. It won’t be him.”
Charlie inclined his head and, wrestling with a fresh problem—namely how to break this latest set of facts, such as they were, to Claudia—made his way out of the club.
He emerged from Boodle’s and walked along St. James Street, then turned onto Ryder Street. The hackney was waiting by the curb, with Claudia even more impatient for news. Charlie instructed the jarvey to wait and climbed into the carriage.
Claudia all but pounced on him. “What did you learn?”
Stifling a sigh, Charlie duly reported that Fitzwilliam’s dinner had ended before midnight, and all had gone their separate ways. “So there’s no one there who can say where Jonathon went next. And the party he attended later started at midnight, but the rooms were so crowded, with people constantly going in and out, that it’s difficult to see how anyone could give Jonathon any meaningful alibi.”
Claudia’s expression had grown increasingly grim. “So,” she concluded, “as matters stand, neither Bryan nor Jonathon have alibis for the period during which Sedbury was killed.”
Charlie met her eyes. “To be perfectly frank, given their activities on that night, I can’t see how we could secure alibis strong enough to convince the police, let alone solid enough to stand up in court.”
Claudia’s expressive lips turned down, and the light in her eyes dimmed.
Charlie shifted on the seat and faced forward. “At least we’ve crossed Fosdyke and all associated with him off the suspects list.”
Frowning, she said, “This investigating business is more difficult than I’d thought.”
Glancing at her face, Charlie said, “We should head back to Albemarle Street and report our findings. Perhaps the others have had better luck.”
After two seconds of glumness, Claudia raised her head and nodded. “Yes. Let’s go and see.”
Charlie pushed up the hatch and directed the jarvey to take them to the Adairs’.
CHAPTER 8
Charlie ushered Claudia into the drawing room in Albemarle Street and was surprised and not a little dismayed to find Penelope seated on the sofa with a dejected expression on her face.
She rose and greeted them with “I hope you’ve had some luck.”
Her delivery implied that she hadn’t.
“We made some progress,” Charlie informed her.
“But not,” Claudia added, “as much as we would have liked.”
Penelope sighed. “The others should be here shortly.” She waved them to armchairs, and they’d just taken their seats when they heard the front door open, and the next instant, Barnaby and Stokes walked in.
Both men looked at them in hopeful inquiry, but were met with no encouraging sign.
After exchanging greetings, Stokes claimed the armchair farthest from the hearth, and Barnaby elegantly subsided onto the sofa next to Penelope.
