Page 40 of Dead Beside the Thames
“As to that,” Stokes said, “I’ve asked the mud larks along that stretch to keep their eyes peeled for it. I only spoke to five of them, but they’ll pass the word up and down the river and among the rivermen as well.” He smiled faintly. “Useful beggars, they are, over anything to do with the river.”
Barnaby nodded. “If the whip was tossed into the river when Sedbury’s body was dumped in, there’s a decent chance it’ll wash ashore somewhere.”
The doorbell pealed, and the sounds of male voices and boots in the front hall had everyone looking toward the door. Seconds later, it opened, and Mostyn walked in and announced, “Lord Jonathon Hale and Lord Bryan Hale.”
Claudia’s brothers.Penelope rose and went forward to greet the two very large gentlemen who followed Mostyn into the room. A quick glance at the window told her it was already dark outside. She smiled and held out her hand. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Penelope Adair.”
They duly mumbled greetings and bowed over her hand. “And this gentleman”—she gestured to Barnaby, who had risen and come to stand at her shoulder—“is my husband, Barnaby.” As soon as the three men had shaken hands, Penelope waved at Claudia. “Your sister, of course, and I believe you’re already acquainted with Mr. Hastings.”
Jonathon and Bryan exchanged nods with Charlie; it was plain to all that they were bottling up a degree of irritation, but were forced by Penelope’s actions to behave with decorum.
“And this,” she concluded, smiling at Stokes, who had risen and turned to face the pair, “is Inspector Stokes of Scotland Yard, who is leading the investigation into Sedbury’s murder.”
The brothers were taken aback at finding Stokes there, and they were not adept at hiding their sudden surprise or the wariness that followed.
Penelope urged the pair to armchairs. “Please, do sit down.”
The pair shuffled, yet had no option other than to follow her direction.
But the restraint that had held them back didn’t last long. Once they sat and everyone else had returned to their places, the brothers fixed quite ferocious scowls on their sister.
Jonathon opened fire with “You’ve been questioning our staff about where we were on Saturday evening.”
If she was in any way intimidated by those scowls, Claudia gave no sign of it. “Of course I have.” She spread her hands. “We need to establish alibis for both of you. You must see that.”
“You can’t possibly believe we killed the blighter,” Jonathon retorted.
“It’s not what I believe, but what can be proved,” Claudia countered.
Bryan eyed his elders, then grouched, “You could have just asked.”
Stokes drew out his notebook. “We’re asking now. Officially.” He fixed his gaze on Jonathon. “Where were you, Lord Jonathon, and who can confirm that?”
A full minute of silence ensued as Jonathon debated his wisest move, but after slanting glances at Barnaby, Penelope, Claudia, and even Charlie, patently hoping for some intervention, he cleared his throat and reluctantly replied, “I attended a dinner.” As Stokes led him to relate his subsequent movements, even Jonathon realized how difficult it would be to prove that he hadn’t slipped away and met and murdered his half brother. By the time his recitation ended, he was looking decidedly uneasy and shooting imploring glances at Claudia, as if hoping she would suggest something that would help him.
But Claudia simply looked glum, and Stokes turned to Bryan. Again, as the younger Hale described his activities on Saturday night, it became increasingly clear that there simply was no hope of reliable witnesses to attest to his whereabouts during the crucial hours.
After jotting down the brothers’ replies, Stokes arched a questioning brow at Barnaby and Penelope.
Barnaby grimaced. Addressing the Hales, he summarized, “The hours the pair of you were with others can—in theory—be verified, but in Jonathon’s case, it seems likely there will be periods during which you could have left the house, met withSedbury, and murdered him, then returned, and securing viable testimony that you didn’t will be difficult.” He transferred his gaze to Bryan. “And as we already have testimony that you and your three friends were all three sheets to the wind, their word as to your presence with them will not hold up in court.”
He studied the two downcast faces and felt moved to observe, “Sadly, proving you didn’t do something is often more difficult than proving you did.”
Frowning, Jonathon darted a glance at his brother. “So you’re saying that we—Bryan and I—are in a sort of suspended state of possibly being suspects in Sedbury’s murder.”
Penelope inclined her head his way. “That’s a reasonably accurate assessment.”
Jonathon and Bryan looked around the circle, and when no one disagreed, their faces fell even further.
Reality, Barnaby thought, had finally bitten.
The doorbell pealed, not once, but twice, the sound somehow conveying impatience.
They all heard Mostyn cross the front hall, then a gruff voice, speaking in a rather demanding tone, reached them.
Instantly, all three Hales stiffened. They were already starting to rise from their seats when Mostyn opened the drawing-room door.
“I believe,” Barnaby uncrossed his legs and murmured to Stokes, “that the marquess has arrived.”
