[Berkeley Brigade 10] - Shadow of Murder (21 page)

Black intended to present himself to the cleric who ran the Union Chapel as a well-inlaid gent. Between Mr. Pattle’s carriage and the new suit he’d had made up since joining the Brigade, he looked the part. He chose, from a collection of gentlemen’s cards he had accumulated over the years, one for a J. Jerome Greene, The Alders, Kent. He realized his language wasn’t quite up to scratch, but he’d hint that he’d made his fortune in trade. The churches weren’t as nice as the aristos about a fellow’s background, as long as the dibs were in tune. Come to that, the aristos were beginning to smarten up as well. Take Whitbred, made his fortune in brewing, and now hobnobbed with the tip of the ton.

After pounding a thorough explanation of the route into Fitz’s thick head, he got to the chapel with only a few side excursions. He assumed the newish brick house to the side of the chapel was where the top churchman lived. He went to the door and presented Mr. Greene’s card to a butler who was not nearly as fine as Evans.

“Doctor Calvert is at the chapel this morning, sir,” the butler said.

“Conducting a service, is he?”

“Oh no, sir. He has an office there. He is working on chapel business.”

“I’ll drop in on him there.”

“Try the door at the back. It should be open.”

Black retrieved the card as he had only the one, thanked him and trotted around to the back door into the chapel, taking note that the lock had not been trifled with. It seemed about a quarter of the building was given over to the business end of running the chapel. At the end of a corridor a door held a sign telling him it was Calvert’s office. He tapped and was told to come in.

He entered a small, ill-furnished office where a jolly dumpling of a man with a ring of white hair around a pink, shiny scalp sat behind a battered desk. He looked up and said, “Good day to you, sir. What can I do for you?”

Black handed him Greene’s card. “I’m a carriage builder. You might have heard of me. My usual line is barouches, but I’m expanding into curricles and plan to make them here, on the Surrey side of town where land and labour are cheaper. I’ll be buying a place to live nearby to keep an eye on things while the new operation is getting underway. I’m a church-going man, have been all my life. I feel it’s a man’s duty to support his church, with time as well as money. I take an active part in chapel life. My way is to deal with the  top man, and I figure in the present case that would be yourself.”

“Indeed, my poor self,” Calvert said, his blue eyes gleaming with either greed or pleasure at meeting a new disciple. “Doctor Calvert. No relation to Calvin or Calvinism,” he added with a little smile. “Have a seat, Mr. Greene.”

Black pulled a hard-backed chair forward and sat down. “Glad to hear it,” he said, answering smile with smile. “I don’t believe the good Lord meant for us to be miserable on this fine earth He gave us.”

“Just so. My sentiments exactly. We call our little sect the Surrey Union Sect. The country calls such sects as ours Dissenters, but we never dissent with the Bible. A man can be good without depriving himself of pleasure.”

He reached into a drawer. “Speaking of pleasure, Mr. Greene, could I interest you in a wee nip?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a drop,” Black answered readily.

Glasses followed the bottle out of the drawer and Calvert poured two generous glasses of sherry. Not Black’s favorite tipple, but it was at least a good sherry and went down easily while they discussed in what way Mr. Greene might be of service to the Lord.

“I was an elder of the chapel back home,” Black said. “I helped with looking after the chapel, had my men see to repairs and improvements, you know. Raising money for heating and such things.”

“I expect a successful businessman like yourself would know about raising money. Always a problem with small outfits like ours. Our parishioners aren’t wealthy, but we have a few generous subscribers.” He cast a hopeful eye at Mr. Greene.

“Those of us who have owe it to the less fortunate to give them a hand. We see what happened in France if we don’t.”

“Just so. Truer words were never spoken.”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like to have a look around the chapel.” To ensure agreement, he added, “See what needs doing, you might say, and how I might help. I have connections in various lines of trade.”

“I’d be happy to accompany you.”

“Nay, I can see you’re busy. I’d hate to take a man away from the Lord’s work. I’ll just wander about on my own.”

“No trouble, I assure you.”

“I won’t disturb you. I’ll just make myself at home.”

“Just as you like. We’ll get together for a good chat soon, Mr. Greene. I’m very happy to have met you. Let me see, now.” He pulled out a book in which he kept appointments. “Tomorrow evening, for dinner?” he suggested hopefully.

“Ah, tomorrow I’m dining with some business associates in the city. Let us make it next week.”

“Where are you staying, Mr. Greene? You mentioned you were planning to move into this area.”

“In London. I always put up at the Clarendon when I’m in London,” Black replied, naming one of the most expensive hotels in town. “You can get in touch with me there. I’m pretty well tied up with business matters till next week. I’ll let you know. You wouldn’t mind meeting me at my hotel? I’ll send my carriage for you, of course. The Clarendon’s the only place in London you can get a decent French meal. A little dear, but you won’t have to worry about that.”

“I look forward to it,” Calvert said, smiling and rising to shake Black’s hand. Black was surprised to see he wasn’t an inch over five feet, a regular little ankle-biter. “Very happy to have met you, Mr. Greene. You might want to take a look at the kneeling benches while you’re looking around. They’re unpadded. Some of our followers complain of sore knees.”

“That’s the very way I hope to be of help, Doctor. I daresay my upholsterers could do a job like that in their spare time.” With a polite bow, Black escaped to begin, like Coffen, searching for clues.

He took no more than a glance into the chapel proper, and was surprised to see the pulpit in the centre of the church. Did Calvert rotate as he spoke, or did the half of his parishioners have a view of his back? Without so much as a glance at the unpadded kneeling benches he hurried back to the rear quarters and soon found the little room where the chapel’s records were kept, resting on top of a table.

He opened the blue book to see if he recognized any of the names. The chapel had only been in business for a dozen years, but details of the parish families were listed. He flipped through the pages, looking for Maccles, Dumbrille, Corbett and for good measure, Chalmers and Everett. They might go under various names, of course.

He found no sign of the Maccles, the first name he looked for. He thought he might recognize them even under a different name, as not too many families had five sons and no daughters. None in the records had. What surprised him greatly was to see the name Daniel James Dumbrille there, big as life, along with his wife Marjorie, deceased a dozen years ago, and one daughter, Elizabeth Marjorie, born 1795. That’d be the tyke who used to throw herself under a carriage to facilitate snatching the passenger’s jewelry. She’d be eighteen now.

He looked about for records to see who did the physical work about the place. They were the ones who would have access to the key. Before he found what he was looking for, a tall fair-haired man whose broadcloth jacket gave him the air of a junior clerk came into the room. He looked surprised to see Black there. Black immediately introduced himself and mentioned that he was new to the parish, and wanted to help. Doctor Calvert had invited him to look around.

“You’d be one of the fellows who help Calvert take care of the place, I take it?” Black said.

The man immediately put out his hand. “John Mason,” he said. “I’ve been with the doctor from the beginning. He’s doing a fine job here. We’ll be happy for another helping hand.” He judged by Black’s elegant suit and the carriage parked out front that Black was a gentleman of considerable means.

“I noticed a name here I recognize,” Black said, fingering the record book. “This Dumbrille — it wouldn’t be Donald Dumbrille, from Kent? He was a wonderful worker for us.”

“No, it’s Daniel Dumbrille.”

Black glanced at the register again. “So it is, Daniel Dumbrille. I misread it.”

“Daniel was a good contributor and attended services pretty regular,” Mr. Mason said, “but didn’t involve himself in the more practical side of the work.”

Black adopted a surprised look.
“
Was,
you say. Moved away, or deceased?”

“Shot to death in London just a few days ago.” Mason announced with an air almost of pride at such exciting goings-on.

“Really! That’s a caution. Do they know who did it?”

“Some actor,” Martin said, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine what Daniel was doing with a fellow like that. Mind you, I’m not saying I don’t have my suspicions. The wife tells me, though I can’t be sponsor for the truth of it, that he was seeing some widow woman who was no better than she should be, as the saying goes. She wasn’t from our parish.”

“A man gets lonesome, I daresay.”

“
She
hadn’t that excuse! Half a dozen or so sons to keep her company. The wife saw her about with different young men. Well, she
called
them her sons, but who knows?”

“Where was all this?”

“Once getting off the coach from London, and once right here having a meal at the cafe.”

“I see here Dumbrille has a daughter.
She
wouldn’t be pleased at his taking up with such a woman. Or does she live here at all?”

“No, Daniel had her schooled in London, making a proper lady of her. She must be out of school by now, but she never moved back with Daniel. I hope she don’t come to harm. We haven’t been able to find her to tell her of her father’s death, but very likely she knows. It was in all the journals.”

Black judged he had learned what he came for and didn’t want to quiz Mason any further, in case he became suspicious. He adopted his business air and said, “Now, what sort of work do you do around the place yourself, Mr. Mason?”

“Not to put a fancy name on it, you might say I’m the caretaker,” he said, laughing at such a paltry description of his labours. “I don’t sweep the floors, but I see they get swept and the fires going in winter. Doctor Calvert calls on me when anything needs doing. I’m in and out two or three times a week.”

Black indicated a large key ring hanging from Mason’s pocket and said, “Sort of a doorkeeper along with the rest, eh?”

“You might say that.”

“Any trouble with break-ins, people using the chapel for other than religious purposes? The reason I ask, we had a little trouble that way in Kent. We blamed it on the temporary help that comes at harvest time. A great place for fruit, Kent. The garden of England.”

“No, we have no trouble that way,” Mason assured him. “There’s really not much in the chapel to steal. Not like a Papist church with all the gold vessels and statues and so on. I did worry a few days ago, when my key ring disappeared, but I found it on one of the seats. I must have dropped it and one of the cleaning women picked it up.”

“That was fortunate. They were cleaning at the time then?”

“That’s right. I unlocked the door to let them in. ‘Twas last Tuesday. We had three or four of them here dusting and polishing. Wonderful workers they are.”

“Older housewives, like we have in Kent, I daresay?”

“That’s the way of it. The younger ones don’t seem interested. But then I wasn’t much interested in church myself when I was young. I find you don’t take to religion till you reach a certain age, and suddenly realize you’re not going to live forever.”

“That’s just how it struck me,” Black said, and picked up his gloves.

“Well, it’s been nice chatting to you, Mr. Greene. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you at Sunday’s service.”

“If I can make it, Mr. Mason,” Black said, and gave the man’s hand a shake before leaving.

So that’s how the gang got into the chapel last night. One of the old women snitched Mason’s keychain and got a copy made. Would it be Mother Maccles, he wondered. She wasn’t listed as a member of the sect, but she was the only older woman involved, so far as they knew. And Dumbrille was on the books as well. A pillar of the church. Strange, but he wasn’t the first sinner to bend his knee to the Lord on Sunday. Some of them did it to give them an air of propriety, and some of them convinced themselves they were Christians. Even prayed for success in their crimes. Scarlet as Black’s past was, he had never prayed for success in his crimes. Not a hypocrite at least.

And the daughter — was she calling herself Chloe these days? Chloe Chalmers must be about eighteen years old and living in London. If she was Dan’s daughter and Mother Maccles was his woman, Chloe could be connected to the Maccles via her mama’s liaison with her papa, Diamond Daniel Dumbrille. These gleanings must be taken to Luten at once. Mr. Pattle may have come up with something as well. He was a rare one for sniffing out a clue. An odd talent for a man who never knew where he’d hung his hat or how much money he had in his pocket. But let him get the scent of a crime and he was a regular bulldog. Everybody was good for something.

Townsend, though happy enough to hear the auction goods had been returned, would have been happier if he had found them himself and earned the reward. But there were still a few pickings to be had in the matter. He kindly agreed to make time in his busy schedule to escort the delivery of the auction goods to Elgin Hall.

“I don’t think myself they’ll tackle a second raid on the same goods,” he told Luten, “but when they’re on the road they’re most at risk. I’ll have three or four armed guards along, in case.” He tapped the side of his nose and added, “What I see as a more likely target is Lady Clare’s diamonds.”

“Lady Luten is arranging for Lady Clare to make the delivery to the Hall herself in secret. But in any case, with Diamond Dan gone, the diamonds shouldn’t be at much risk.”