Page 47 of Dead Beside the Thames
Barnaby had never seen Sedbury’s whip, but from what little he recalled of Charlie’s description, this whip could definitelybe it. Even without touching it, he could see the quality of the workmanship and the soft, subtle sheen of highest-grade leather, and the embossing on the handle was first rate. Barnaby picked up the whip, hefted it in his hand, then half turned to Stokes and arched a brow. “How likely is it that two whips of this quality would be found around here?”
Stokes grunted and pulled out his warrant card, and Mr. Sullivan’s face fell. “This whip,” Stokes said as he took the coil of leather from Barnaby, “is wanted in relation to a murder investigation. I’m therefore claiming it as evidence. We will get an expert to confirm it is the whip we seek. If it proves not to be, I’ll make sure this whip is returned to you.”
Mr. Sullivan didn’t look the least bit mollified.
Barnaby leaned on the counter and, in conspiratorial fashion, asked, “So, do you know anything of where the whip was found?”
A golden guinea appeared between Barnaby’s long fingers, and Sullivan’s eyes fixed on the gleam.
After a moment, his gaze still on the coin, he said, “There’s an old codger, name of Cedric. We all call him Cedric the Long. He prowls for bits and pieces along the riverbank and brings me anything he thinks I might be interested in.” Before Stokes could ask, his expression turning sour, Sullivan went on, “At this time of day, you’ll find Cedric in the Sun Tavern, just down the street”—Sullivan tipped his head to the east—“no doubt drinking the shillings I gave him for that blessed whip.”
Barnaby smiled, straightened from the counter, and flicked the guinea toward Sullivan.
The pawnbroker snatched the coin out of the air, and his toothy smile returned. He dipped his head to Barnaby. “Thank ye, sir. You’re surely a gentleman.”
Barnaby laughed and followed Stokes out of the door.
Barnaby asked Jeremy if he knew the location of the Sun Tavern, and the lad pointed east along the street. “That’s it just there. You can see the sign above the door.”
They could just make out the faded sign and, after some debate, left the whip safely tucked beneath the curricle’s seat, under Jeremy’s watchful eye, and walked on and into the tavern.
Barnaby paused just inside the smoky taproom to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. There were several groups of old men gathered about tables with mugs in front of them and—having taken in Barnaby and Stokes—shuttered expressions on their faces, but Barnaby’s attention was drawn to the very tall, very thin, aging man in an ancient frieze coat who was sitting at the bar and who had yet to notice Barnaby and Stokes’s arrival.
Barnaby went forward and claimed the stool on the man’s left. As Stokes slid onto the stool on the man’s right, Barnaby saw that the man—assuredly Cedric the Long—was nursing a pint of lager.
Abruptly, Cedric stiffened. He slid his gaze in Stokes’s direction, then glanced warily at Barnaby. Then he returned his watery blue gaze to Stokes. “Police?”
Stokes smiled amiably. “You’ve sound instincts, Cedric.”
Cedric licked his lips, but didn’t seem all that nervous. “So, what can I do for you gents?”
Stokes replied, “We’d like to know where you found the whip you sold to Sullivan up the street.”
“Hmm.” Cedric screwed up his face. “Me memory’s not what it used to be, you know?”
Barnaby clinked two florins on the bar, seizing Cedric’s attention. “Perhaps the sight of these might help clear the fog away?”
Cedric’s gaze had locked on the coins. “Oh, aye. They’ve done that, right enough.” Briefly dragging his gaze from the silver, he glanced Stokes’s way. “You know the Cole Stairs?”
Stokes nodded. “We do.”
“That whip was just lying there, in the lane this side of the wall.” His gaze distant, Cedric tipped his head, as if studying the picture in his memory. “’Twasn’t coiled up, but just lying there like someone had dropped it. Wasn’t anyone around—I checked—so I took it.” He glanced at Stokes. “Finders keepers and all that.”
“When was this?” Stokes asked.
“Sunday morning,” Cedric promptly replied. “The bells were all ringing loud as can be. That’s when I found that whip and picked it up.”
Barnaby met Stokes’s eyes and saw his friend had no more questions to ask. Barnaby tossed the florins on the bar and pushed up from his stool. “Just don’t drink them all tonight.”
His gaze once more locked on the coins, shining against the dark wood of the bar, Cedric only hummed and made no promises.
Barnaby met Stokes’s gaze, and feeling much more satisfied than they had that morning, they headed for the curricle.
CHAPTER 10
Penelope was seated on the sofa in her drawing room, with Charlie and Claudia sitting on the sofa opposite and Jonathon and Bryan in armchairs, when Barnaby and Stokes walked into the room, their smiles and their attitudes exuding success.
“You obviously have news.” Impatiently, Penelope waved the pair to chairs. “What have you learned?”
