Page 42 of Dead Beside the Thames
Jonathon drew his gaze from Sedbury’s writing, rose, and carried the letter to his father.
Rattenby seized the sheet and studied the brief message. His features hardened, and he continued to stare at the written words.
After a moment, Stokes inquired, “My lord, do you have any idea to whom Sedbury was referring?”
“No.” There was enough puzzlement in Rattenby’s tone to suggest that was the truth. “I’ve not the faintest notion.” As if speaking to himself, he went on, “It could be someone in town or in the country. In fact, whoever he means could be anywhere at all.” Rattenby frowned at the letter, hesitated, then said, “I assume this”—he raised the note—“is evidence?”
“It is, my lord.” Stokes held out his hand. “I’ll need to keep it, at least for the moment.”
With obvious reluctance, Rattenby handed the letter to Jonathon, who returned it to Stokes, then resumed his seat.
Barnaby could almost feel Stokes’s relief as he tucked the letter back into his pocket.
The marquess was, once again, scowling, although this time, his ire wasn’t directed at anyone there. “I would suggest,” Rattenby stated, “that letter is simply another example of Sedbury’s maliciousness.” He focused on Stokes. “I will tell you now, Inspector, that I view Sedbury’s removal from this world as a benevolent act of fate. His death will not be mourned by anyone. I would much prefer that you ceased your investigation,and I propose to tell the commissioner as much tomorrow morning.”
Claudia stirred. She shot a worried glance at her brothers, then turned to their father. “You might want to reconsider that notion, Papa.”
The marquess’s scowl deepened as it swung Claudia’s way. “Why? For goodness’ sake, girl, this investigation is going to focus far too much attention on the family.” Voice strengthening, he declared, “I won’t have it!”
Claudia didn’t waver. “With respect, Papa, how much interest becomes focused on the family isn’t something you can control. The news of Sedbury’s death was reported in the news sheets this morning—thankfully in highly restrained fashion, for which I believe we have Scotland Yard to thank—so the murder is now common knowledge. Inevitably, the ton has started to speculate, and the gossip will only grow more extreme as the days pass. Until someone is taken up for the crime, the most obvious suspects”—she waved at her brothers—“namely, Jonathon and Bryan, will remain just that. Suspected of murder. Do you really want their futures tainted and tarnished by the suspicion that one or other of them killed Sedbury?”
From under beetling brows, Rattenby stared hard at his daughter, who held her nerve and regarded him levelly, then he looked at his sons. “But…” He seemed to deflate and looked a trifle lost.
“We didn’t do it,” Jonathon said, “but Claude’s right. We are the prime suspects—especially me. With Sedbury gone, I’m your heir, and that alone is motive enough. But the gossipmongers will pick and poke and hunt for more as long as the question of who killed Sedbury remains unresolved, and who knows what they’ll turn up?”
“We didn’t kill him,” Bryan averred. “Weknow that, but the ton will make a great mystery of it. You know they will, andthey’ll relish the scandal, and that will hang over our heads forever if Sedbury’s murderer isn’t caught.”
Penelope sensed it was his younger son’s summation that decisively cracked the wall of the marquess’s stubbornness. Despite his retreat to the country and his consequent eschewing of ton society, she doubted he would be so out of touch with ton habits that he couldn’t appreciate what his children were very sensibly telling him. Nevertheless, she drew breath and stated, “Sadly, my lord, your children are entirely correct. If left unsolved, Sedbury’s murder will have no good outcome for them or, indeed, any of your family. In order to stop the gossip, the real murderer must be identified.”
The marquess studied her for several long moments, then he looked at his children. Ultimately, he transferred his gaze to Stokes. “I accept that you need to find Sedbury’s murderer. However, I would ask that you investigate this affair with minimum public fuss. I will also reiterate that I am not inclined to view Sedbury’s murder as an evil. Knowing Sedbury, the act was almost certainly some form of well-deserved retribution or revenge. It gives me no joy to state that, but I cannot pretend I didn’t know Sedbury well enough to be sure that will be so.” Rattenby paused, then said, “Do what you need to do, Inspector. Mr. and Mrs. Adair.” His gaze shifted to Penelope and Barnaby. “However, know that I reserve the right to sit in judgment as to what happens once you have your answers.”
Stokes briefly met Barnaby’s and Penelope’s gazes, then formally inclined his head to the marquess. “We’ll bear your stipulations in mind, my lord, and proceed on that basis.”
“In that case”—Rattenby rose, bringing everyone else to their feet—“I will leave you to your deliberations. Kindly keep me informed of any progress.”
Stokes nodded. “We will.”
Rattenby half bowed to Penelope and Barnaby, nodded curtly to his children and Charlie, then, stiffly upright, made for the door. Barnaby accompanied him into the hall.
Everyone else remained standing until the sound of the front door closing reached them, after which everyone breathed more easily.
Barnaby returned as the others resumed their seats.
Penelope was curious that the junior Hales hadn’t left with their sire. Instead, seated once more, the three exchanged glances, then Jonathon sighed. “He means well. He just wants to protect us, but…”
Determinedly, Claudia completed the sentence. “The only way to do that is to find Sedbury’s killer.”
“We might feel like giving whoever it is a bouquet,” Bryan said, “but sadly, that’s the sum of it.”
Bracingly, Penelope said, “I believe we’re all in agreement on that point. So”—she glanced at Charlie, Stokes, and Barnaby—“what are our next steps?”
Stokes and Barnaby reiterated their intention to continue their respective searches for the riverbank site and the whip.
Claudia eyed her brothers. “Can either of you remember more about where you were that night?”
Bryan came up with several places he recalled looking in at, while Jonathon believed he’d spent much of his time at Satchwell’s event in the company of three like-minded gentlemen. “I suppose,” Jonathon said, “I could ask what they remembered of me during those hours.”
“Before you do that,” Penelope said, “it would help if each of you constructed a timeline of where you were and who you were with. Then, depending on where the murder site proves to be and how far that is from where you were and how long it would have taken you to get to the place, strangle Sedbury, and return,you might be able to assemble enough verified sightings through the critical hours to prove you couldn’t be his killer.”
