Page 14 of Dead Beside the Thames
They returned within a few minutes, shaking their heads.
“Nothing useful,” Barnaby reported.
“Let me take a look,” Penelope said. “I might see something you two have missed.”
Stokes and Barnaby waved her on. Leaving Claudia in their care, Penelope went into the bedroom. It contained a bed, a wardrobe, and a dresser. She made short work of searching everywhere but discovered nothing of interest. “Just what you’d expect to find in a bachelor gentleman’s bedroom.”
She returned to the parlor, where Stokes was asking Claudia more about her family, especially those currently in town, with Barnaby listening and taking mental notes. Penelope left them to it and went to the last unopened door—the one on the other side of the fireplace. Through it lay an intimate dining room, from which another door led to a small kitchen. Beyond the kitchen was a large pantry and a small room which, judging by the narrow bed and unvarnished chest of drawers, was Duggan’s.
Penelope set about searching the rooms. In truth, there was little in the cupboards or drawers in the kitchen, dining room, and pantry, just the basic pots, pans, and utensils. Duggan owned two sets of clothes in addition to those he must be wearing and one other pair of boots, a comb, and not much else.
On returning to the parlor and meeting Stokes’s and Barnaby’s questioning looks, she shook her head. “Nothing of note, other than that the cupboards are bare, and Duggan did, indeed, need to go shopping.”
“Right, then.” Stokes waved them toward the exit. “We’re finished here for now.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Claudia gave in to Penelope’s urging and accompanied her into the front hall and out of the apartment. Penelope started down the stairs, and Claudia trailed after her.
Barnaby and Stokes followed. Stokes closed the apartment door, and he and Barnaby caught up with the ladies on the front porch.
Stokes dipped his head to Claudia. “Lady Claudia. You might mention to your aunt that I will be calling on her in due course. Your brothers as well.”
Claudia grimaced, but replied, “I’ll warn them.” She nodded to Stokes. “Inspector.” Then she turned to Penelope and Barnaby and inclined her head. “Mr. and Mrs. Adair.”
They nodded back and watched as Claudia went down the steps and walked briskly to the waiting carriage.
The large, heavyset coachman swung down from the box and opened the carriage door for Claudia. After she’d entered, he shut the door, climbed back up, and picked up the reins. Seconds later, the coach drew out from the curb and rattled down the street toward Mayfair.
Penelope linked her arm in Barnaby’s, and they joined Stokes in descending to the pavement and strolling in the same direction. “Did you happen to notice,” Penelope said, “that Claudia’s very large and strong-looking coachman has a nasty cut over his left eye?”
Barnaby glanced down at her and smiled. “I did, as it happens.”
“Hmm,” Penelope mused. “I wonder if he’s a family retainer. Perhaps a very loyal one.”
Stokes grunted. “If he is, I’ll leave him to you. On the face of the information now in our hands, it seems that several family members, including Sedbury’s sire, had good reason to wish the man dead.”
“Possibly,” Barnaby allowed. “However, while I can imagine Claudia, her sister, or her mother, and given his age, even the marquess, using a hireling—or a trusted retainer—to accomplish such an end, I can’t see Jonathon or Bryan, both of whom have the strongest motives at this point, doing so. Or, for that matter, agreeing to meet Sedbury down by the docks or, alternatively, choosing the docks for any meeting with him.” He paused, then added, “In fact, I can’t see any retainer or hireling choosing that area, either. They would have needed to entice Sedbury down there with some quite potent lure.”
“Ah, but we don’t yet know where he was killed,” Stokes said. “It might have been in Mayfair, and while Jonathon might not have got that letter, he’s the one in line for the title.”
Barnaby dipped his head in acknowledgment. “True. We need to locate the site of the murder sooner rather than later. Wherever it is will tell us quite a bit about the murderer—about who the murderer might be.”
Stokes nodded. They’d reached Piccadilly, and he halted on the pavement. “I’m off to confer with O’Donnell and Morgan to see if they’ve turned up anything useful.”
Barnaby looked at Penelope. “I’ll see you home, then go on and find my lads and set them on Sedbury’s and Charlie’s Saturday-night trails.”
Penelope consulted her lapel watch and softly humphed. “Sadly, it’s too late to catch up with my usual sources today.” She looked at Stokes. “I’ll have to leave it until tomorrow, but I’msure I’ll be able to learn a lot more about the Hales and Sedbury from them.”
Stokes grinned. “Better you than either of us.” He glanced at Barnaby. “But before you and I part ways, I’ve just remembered that there’s another venue of interest that we need to investigate.”
Stokes’s venue of interest proved to be White’s Gentlemen’s Club.
After escorting Penelope home, Barnaby walked with Stokes to St. James Street and the front door of the venerable institution. As Barnaby—and his father and brothers—were well-known members, he led the way in asking the porter, Harry, who was in his cubicle just inside the porch, whether he’d been on duty on the previous Saturday, late in the evening.
“No, sir,” Harry answered readily. “The evening porter last Saturday was Jenkinson.”
Barnaby glanced at Stokes, then looked back at Harry. “In that case, the inspector and I will need to speak with Jenkinson.”
“About this strange business with Viscount Sedbury?” Harry guessed, already beckoning to a hovering page. “At this hour, Jenkinson will be in his room. I’ll just send for him. I’m sure he’ll be down quick as a wink.”
