[Berkeley Brigade 10] - Shadow of Murder (17 page)

Corinne said, “I thought he might have taken it there to leave after he killed Corbett, to make us think Corbett was in on the robbery.”

“You have the mind of a first rate criminal, milady,” Black said, smiling to show it was meant for a compliment. “I believe you’ve hit it on the head.” No one argued with her idea once Black had spoken.

Coffen looked all around. “Does this mean Corbett
ain
’
t
Dan’s illegitimate son or some colleague from Devon, like you mentioned earlier?”

They all thought a moment, then Luten said, “Not necessarily. There must be some reason Corbett was chosen to ferret out information about the auction goods for them. Some previous acquaintance of a fairly close kind, I mean. Townsend never heard of Corbett before, which means he had no criminal past, yet they felt it was safe to approach him, and he agreed.”

“Like all orphans, he thought his papa was some fine lord,” Prance said. “He mentioned he was looking into it. He may have found out he was Dan’s son.”

“I wonder now, if he found out his da was no fine lord but a thief, would he be mad enough to kill him?” Black said, looking around for support or disagreement.

“And would it be madness, or cruel, selfish sanity?” Prance said. “Corbett was proud, he was on the brink of fame and fortune at Drury Lane. If it should come out that his father was an infamous criminal — well, I honestly think it might drive him over the edge into temporary madness.” The others just looked, not immediately accepting this theory. “It would suggest that Corbett just found out Dan was his father last night, when Dan called on him,” he added.

“That would mean he found it out from Dan himself. We thought Dan went there for the purpose of murdering Corbett, his own son,” Luten said. “I, for one, find that impossible to believe. It goes against human nature. I suppose he needn’t have had murder in mind, though he did carry a pistol.”

Coffen sat listening and conjuring the scene in his head. When he had come to a conclusion, he announced, “Coincidence.” His abhorrence of coincidence was well known within the group. “It’s getting to sound like something you’d see at Covent Garden, that Corbett just happened to be working here in Luten’s place, and just happened to be Dan’s long-lost son and just happened to learn it last night. And even in a bad play, he wouldn’t kill his father.”

“You’re forgetting
Oedipus,
”
Prance said.

“No I ain’t, for I don’t know the fellow. Sounds like a foreigner. No telling what a Frenchie would do. Killed their own king and queen.”

“It was a bad example. Oedipus was unaware Laius was his father.”

“What I’m saying is that if Corbett knew Dan was his dad and Dan was abetting Mother Maccles, he might’ve given him a hand to spy out how the goods were being guarded. But in that case, he didn’t just learn it last night, and go into a fit and kill him. And if Dan knew Corbett was his son, he didn’t go there to shoot him. And don’t bother reminding me of Abraham from the Bible, Prance. I never did believe that story, any more than I did the one about a few fish and rolls feeding a whole picnic. Who’d take a basket of fish to a picnic? It’d get tasting too fishy in the heat. Chicken is what you take. I’m not saying they didn’t know each other before in Devon, but I don’t believe they were father and son.”

“Coffen’s right.,” Luten said. “They were known to each other, but not father and son. Very likely Dan learned that Corbett had access to the house, bribed him to find out what he could about how and where the auction items were being kept. Corbett complained when we questioned him, and they decided they had to kill him before he revealed their names. Dan went to do the job himself, planning to leave the icon behind to incriminate Corbett. Black mentioned he’d killed before. Corbett overpowered Dan and shot him, then ran.”

“And Diamond Dan was involved because he’s taken up with Mother Maccles,” Prance added. He turned to Black. “Any chance of getting a line on all this, Black?”

“I could have another go at it. If Diamond Dan and Mother were working together and he was helping her, I wager she was helping him get a line on the Clare diamonds. He’d not pass up a chance like that. Like as not she knows his plan to get the diamonds. And it would be a pretty good plan too. I wonder now if Mother and her crew might not carry on with it, seeing as he’s dead.”

“We don’t know he was planning to steal the diamonds,” Corinne said. “He might just have been helping Mother Maccles.”

“It’s exactly his sort of caper though,” Black said. “I doubt he could resist it. Them diamonds are going to be delivered to Elgin Hall, very likely in a private carriage. Easy pickings compared to all the work of heisting the auction goods from here. Dan usually did his rumbling while the goods were on the road. Mother is the harum-scarum type who’d tackle a rogue elephant if she thought there was enough money in it.”

“Well, at least he won’t steal them while I’m responsible for them,” she said. “They’re not coming here. They’re going directly to Elgin Hall. I shall warn Lady Clare to take every precaution. And Diamond Dan had no way of knowing that, for I just decided after our robbery and haven’t told a soul but Luten and Townsend.”

“Pity,” Black said. “With Corbett gone missing, there’s no way to pass word along to Mother and the gang. Unless —”

Prance stared. “Are you actually suggesting that you
want
someone to steal the diamonds?”

“No,” Coffen said. “He don’t mean to steal them. To
try
to steal them, so that we have a chance to catch them red-handed.”

“Rather risky, isn’t it?” Prance said.

“Not if it’s done right. Black, what were you saying? Unless what?”

“Unless I could manage to get word of the delivery to Mother.”

Luten considered this, then said, “Townsend might give us a hand there. He could visit Father Maccles. It seems the gaol is not hermetically sealed. The prisoners have ways of getting word in and out. But would Father bother to tell his wife, I wonder, as they’re not in that line of business? Surely not if he knows she was carrying on with Dan.”

“I doubt that’d bother him much,” Black said, amazed at their strict notions of marriage. “He’d realize she has to put bread on the table whilst he’s away. They didn’t make a sou on the Russian job. And plus he’d like the notion of making gain at Dan’s expense. As to using Townsend to give him the word, however, that won’t fadge. He’d smell a rat a mile away.”

Nothing definite was decided. Luten thought Townsend might be able to get the word to Father Maccles indirectly by using some other prisoner, and Black said he would continue his inquiries.

Luten was just about to dissolve the meeting when Evans entered, handed him a note and waited to see if there was to be a reply. Luten opened it, hoping it wasn’t some political emergency that would require him to dash off to the House. He read it, blinked in astonishment, re-read it and said, “Where did you get this, Evans?”

“I found it shoved under the front door, sir.”

“You didn’t see who left it?’

“I’m afraid not, sir. Whoever left it didn’t knock.”

“I see. Very well, you may go.” Evans bowed and left, very reluctantly, for he had taken a peek at the note and knew there would be interesting discussions. He loitered outside the door, listening.

“What is it, Luten?” Corinne demanded.

He read it again, as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading, and handed it to her. “It’s a ransom note,” he said to the others.

“Eh? Who have they kidnapped?” Coffen asked, looking around to see if any of the group was missing.

“Not who, what,” Prance said. “I fancy they’re negotiating for the return of the stolen goods.”

Corinne handed him the printed note and he read to Coffen: “Ten thousand pounds in cash, delivered by Mrs. Ballard to the Union Chapel in Blackfriars Road at midnight tonight. She must come alone, in a hired cab. She will not be harmed. She will be given a map showing where the goods are stored.   No signature, of course.”

Coffen examined the note for clues. Plain white paper, not the very cheapest kind but too common to hope to discover where it came from. The writing looked good, nicely formed letters and no splotches. No spelling mistakes, as far as he could tell.

“A lady’s handwriting, would you say?” he asked, passing the note back to Prance.

‘‘
Ladies
don’t involve themselves in this sort of thing,” he said firmly. “But a woman’s, I think. Fairly literate.”

“No spelling mistakes?”

“None. I wouldn’t have thought the Maccles capable of this degree of communication.”

“This is ludicrous,” Luten growled. “We have no guarantee they’ll give Mrs. Ballard the map. And we certainly can’t send that poor soul alone after dark to some out-of-the-way chapel. Where is this place, Union Chapel? I never heard of it.”

Coffen said, “Blackfriars Road, like the note says.”

“Some call it Great Surrey Street. It’s on the Surrey side of the Thames in St. George’s field. A marshy sort of place,” Black informed them. He turned to Prance. “You might remember St. George’s Fields Circus. It burnt down in ‘05 and a year later the Surrey Music Hall was built there. It shares space with the old Elephant and Castle Theatre, where they do melodramas.”

Prance had never heard of it. He enjoyed the theatre in more polite surroundings, but as one claiming a keen interest in the theatre he said only, “Oh yes.”

Black added, “Great Surrey Street’s a straight road less than a mile long. I believe the Union Chapel is a strange little church near the end of it, round but with straight sides.”

Coffen blinked and said, “Have you been tippling, Black? There’s no such thing as a round building with straight sides. It’s either round or square.”

“I mean the circle’s made up of short, straight lines, like so.” Black explained. He took out his patent pen and drew an outline.

“Just so, an octagon,” Prance said, “or possibly a hexagon, depending on how many sides it has. Well, such an oddity shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“We can’t send Mrs. Ballard there alone,” Luten said. “They could kill her for all we know.”

“And they’re demanding ten thousand pounds!” Corinne added, in high dudgeon. “That’s half what the goods are expected to bring at auction.”

Prance glanced at the note again and said, “Chapels aren’t open at midnight, are they? I wonder if it’s a Papist chapel. Aren’t their churches open at all hours? Union, the name doesn’t
sound
like a Papist chapel.”

“If the door’s locked, they’d have no trouble getting it open,” Black said with the patient air of one who knows, and feels the others ought to know as well.

Coffen read the note again and said, “It don’t say
in
the chapel. They mean outside, at the door.”

“We might be able to catch them there,” Black said. “They’ll have to get that map to Mrs. Ballard. We could follow whoever brings it.”

“The map could be there waiting for her,” Luten said.

“They wouldn’t leave it there much before midnight, or someone else might get hold of it,” Black said.

“It’ll be a link-boy that brings it,” Coffen said, “and he won’t be able to tell us a thing. Some nondescript fellow will have hired him to deliver it. Could be anyone.”

“Or the map might not come at all,” Black pointed out.

“True,” Coffen agreed. “They end up with the loot
and
ten thousand pounds. Kill two birds without using one single stone.”

Corinne puzzled over this new development. Before long it occurred to her that if they didn’t recover the goods before the ball, she would not only have to face the disgrace of her incompetence, but honour would impel her to pay the twenty thousand pounds, which would leave her with only five thousand to her name. Luten was right that they couldn’t send Mrs. Ballard, but at night in a dark gown and shawl, one lady would look much like another. In other words, she would go disguised as Mrs. Ballard.

“They’ve left no room for negotiation. I wonder what they’ll do if we don’t pay up,” Prance said.

“What they
won
’
t
do is return the goods,” Corinne said. “Luten, I’ve been thinking —”

“No!” he howled. “You’re not going yourself.”

“But it must be a lady who goes. They’d know you or any of the others aren’t Mrs. Ballard. I wonder why they set on her?”

“Because they know she’s old and timid,” Coffen said. “Corbett must have told them she wouldn’t give them any trouble. Never says boo to a goose. And not too bright along with it, except for knowing her Bible. You have to grant her that.”

“So what should we do?” Corinne asked, looking around for an answer.

Black cleared his throat and said, “I think it’s plain one or two of us ought to be there at midnight, just to see what’s going on. Well before twelve, in fact. As Mr. Pattle said, like as not they’ll send a message by a link-boy. We might catch them at it. With a theatre nearby, I wager there’d be a link-boy or two working the area.”

Corinne turned to her husband. “What do you think, Luten?”

“We’ll do that much, certainly. I daresay it wouldn’t do any harm to get the ransom money ready, in case some new development... Well, it’s cheaper than the twenty thousand we’ll have to pay if we
don
’
t
recover the goods. Really the problem is sending Mrs. Ballard to meet them.”

“But what if they don’t produce the map?” Coffen said.

“I did mention that,” Black said, “but on second thought I believe they’d be tickled pink to unload the lot for such a price. It’d be hard selling the goods. There’d be descriptions in the journals and circulated to the pawnshops. No one would want to touch them, and Townsend would find them eventually. Why they’d be lucky to get five thousand, let alone ten. Three is more like it.”

Mrs. Ballard tapped on the door and came tripping into the room. “Sorry to intrude,” she said in her soft voice, “but I have had a strange communication, Lord Luten. Evans tells me he found it shoved under the door with one for you. I thought I ought to show it to you. Naturally I shall be more than willing to play my part.”