The King's Evil (18 page)

Seated
among his cronies at the coffee house, Henry Redmayne held court. Days after
the murder of Sir Ambrose Northcott, the event still continued to dominate the
conversation and, as a known associate of the dead man, Henry was accorded a
great deal of respect and attention. He enjoyed his moment of celebrity.

'I
did warn him,' he said airily, sipping his coffee then holding the cup aloft
between finger and thumb. 'Sir Ambrose had many enemies but he would go abroad
without due care. I offered to be his bodyguard on many occasions but, alas, he
spurned the suggestion. Would that he had not, gentlemen! My sword would have
saved him. Sir Ambrose would even now be sitting here with the rest of us. I
grieve for him.'

Henry
gave a theatrical sigh but his grief was shortlived. When he caught sight of
his brother, he quickly put down his cup and excused himself from the company.
Christopher was bearing down on him with a scowl which promised a stern
reprimand and Henry did not wish to receive it in front of his friends.
Intercepting his brother, he guided him to an empty table in the corner of the
room.

'What
a pleasant surprise!' said Henry, taking a seat.

'It
is more pleasant than the one I have just had,' returned Christopher, remaining
on his feet. 'I come from the offices of Solomon Creech.'

'And?'

'He
tells me that you are to receive a percentage of my fee.'

'The
treacherous devil!'

'Is
it true, Henry?'

'Sit
down a moment.'

'Is
it or is it not true?'

'I
am saying nothing until you sit down,' said Henry, conscious that everyone was
now looking at them. 'And lower your voice while you are at it, Christopher. I
do not want the whole world to know my business.'

Christopher
sat down. 'It seems that you did not even want your brother to know your
business. This is appal- ling.'

'It
is normal practice, I assure you.'

'Normal?
To steal money from someone else?'

'It
was earned and not stolen. Who got you that commission in the first place? Who
introduced you to Sir Ambrose? Who made his younger brother sound like a new
Christopher Wren?'

'You
did, Henry.'

'Thank
you!'

'At
a price.'

'I
was entitled to some reward.'

'Then
why did you not ask for it?' said Christopher. 'For it would have been
willingly given. I was never involved in this enterprise for the money, you
know that. It was the challenge which inspired me. I worked all the hours God
sends on those drawings and I was deeply grateful to you for getting me the
opportunity to do so. It never crossed my mind that you were conniving behind
my back.' 'It was Sir Ambrose's idea,' lied the other.

'Then
why does it have the ring of Henry Redmayne to it?'

'That
is a slur on my character!'

'Who
put it there? In truth,' said Christopher, pulsing with rage, 'this is shabby
behaviour even by your low standards. To charge your own brother! Have I ever
charged you for any of the countless favours I have done in the past?'

'No,
you have not.'

'Do
I send you a bill each time I deceive Father on your behalf?'

'Thankfully,
no.'

'It
gives me no joy to dissemble. Father is a good man and he deserves honesty from
his sons but how can I be honest with him when I talk about you? If he knew the
true facts about your life, he would come hurrying down to London to exorcise
your house.'

'Christopher!'

'And
he would certainly cut off his generous allowance to you.'

'Let
us leave Father out of this.'

'Why
did you do it, Henry?' demanded the other.

'I
told you. I felt that some reward was due to me.'

'Did
you have to go behind my back to secure it?'

'I
was intending to tell you in the fullness of time.'

'Stop
lying!' said Christopher, banging the table. 'But for the death of Sir Ambrose,
I would never have known about it.'

Henry
was bitter. 'There was no need for you to learn about it now. Wait until I see
that piece of excrement who calls himself a lawyer! I'll tear the wretch apart.
My contract with Sir Ambrose was confidential.'

'It
was an abrogation of trust between us.'

'Do
not vex yourself about it so.'

'What
do you expect, Henry - a round of applause?'

'Stop
shouting. Everyone is staring at us.'

'Whose
fault is that?' 'Look,' said the other, trying to mollify him. 'I admit that I
was wrong to conceal this arrangement from you but you are an architect. Put it
into perspective. It was, after all, only a very small percentage of your fee.
And the damage is soon repaired.'

'Is
it?'

'Of
course. I will repay every penny. Will that suit?'

'No,
Henry.'

'Why
not?'

'Because
I do not want the money,' said Christopher. 'I came here for an honest
explanation and a sincere apology. Neither has come from you. Frankly, I am
ashamed to call you my brother.'

'But
what have I done wrong?'

'You
could not begin to understand.'

'An
agent is entitled to a fee.'

'A
brother is entitled to fair dealing.'

'Without
me, you would have had no work as an architect.'

Christopher
was still fuming. 'Without me,' he said pointedly, 'you would have had nobody
from whom to steal. Imagine how this news will be received at the Deanery in
Gloucester.'

'You
would surely not tell Father?' said Henry, going pale.

'If
he asked me direct, I would not mislead him.'

'But
that would be ruinous.'

'To
whom?'

Henry
was for once bereft of words. The thought of losing his allowance from his
father and suffering a punitive sermon at the same time made him quail. Seeing
how deeply hurt his brother was, he groped around for a means of deflecting
Christopher's anger. An idea came to his rescue and sent his hand to his
pocket. He produced a piece of paper.

'I
have done as you asked,' he said with an appeasing smile. 'I made enquiries in
political circles. Here is a list of six people who were the sworn enemies of
Sir Ambrose.'

He
handed the paper over. 'The other four names are those of his closest
associates.'

'I
am amazed,' confessed Christopher.

'Why?'

'You
have done something useful at last.'

'Show
a semblance of gratitude.'

'I
am not in the mood, Henry,' said the other, glancing at the names on the list.
One jumped out at him. 'George Strype?'

'He
is to marry Sir Ambrose's daughter.'

'I
know that. You have him down as a close associate.'

'Why,
so he is,' said Henry, recovering some of his confidence. 'He was often in
London with his future father- in-law. I sometimes drank coffee with the pair
of them here.'

'Where
else did you imbibe with them?'

'Do
I detect a note of suspicion in your voice, Christopher?'

'I
ask out of interest,' said his brother. 'When I went down to Kent, I had the
misfortune of meeting George Strype. He was a surly gentleman, affianced to a
young lady who deserves better. I would hate to hear that he is yet another
denizen of your favourite brothels.'

'I
am not familiar with his recreations. All I know is that he was a personal
friend of Sir Ambrose Northcott and that the two of them had close business
ties. George Strype is a very rich man,' he said with envy. 'He has just
inherited a vast estate. In making a match between him and his daughter, Sir
Ambrose was bringing off a very successful deal.'

'For
whom?'

'All
parties. Both men stood to gain.'

'And
what of Penelope Northcott?'

'She
would acquire a home, a husband and lifelong security.'

'Was
she ever consulted about this successful deal?'

'Is
that of any consequence?'

'Yes,
Henry.'

'Why?'

'Because
I pity the woman. Strype is not fit to lick her shoes.'

'Your
first impressions of the fellow are very misleading,' said Henry. 'He can be
quite engaging and the very fact that Sir Ambrose chose him as a son-in-law
speaks volumes on his behalf. He would have weighed George Strype carefully in
the balance. Of one thing I can assure you now,' he continued, straightening
his periwig before adopting his accustomed pose. 'Sir Ambrose was an excellent
judge of men. Why else would he choose me as a friend?'

In
spite of himself, Christopher could not suppress a smile.

It
was a crowded morning for Jonathan Bale. After hearing a report from the
watchmen who had been on duty the previous night, he gave evidence in court
regarding one case, then escorted the convicted prisoner from another and
secured him in the stocks in Carter Lane. He then arbitrated in a dispute
between bickering neighbours, helped to quell a tavern brawl in Knightrider Street
and spent an hour taking further instructions from a Justice of the Peace. It
left him little time to slip back to the site once more and institute another
vain search for clues to the murder. When he returned to Addle Hill for dinner,
he was tired and disappointed. His spirits were not lifted by the sight of the
horse tethered outside his home.

Irritation
turned to resentment when Jonathan entered the house and found Christopher
Redmayne, sitting familiarly in his parlour and talking with the constable's
wife. Most galling of all was the fact that Sarah seemed to like the visitor.
She was chortling happily at something he had just said. Seeing her husband,
she rose instantly to her feet.

'You
have a visitor, Jonathan,' she said.

'So
I see,' he grunted.

'Mr
Redmayne has been waiting an hour or more.' She gave a farewell smile to
Christopher. 'Excuse me.'

'I
will, Mrs Bale. Thank you for the glass of beer.'

'It
was a pleasure, sir.'

Jonathan
writhed as his wife gave a faint curtsey before leaving. It endeared him even
less to his unexpected caller. He sat opposite him.

'Why
did you come here?' he asked inhospitably.

'It
was the only way to be sure of finding you.'

'My
wife should have sent out for me.'

'She
was too busy talking to me,' said Christopher cheerily. 'You have a charming
wife, Mr Bale. She was telling me about your sons, Oliver and Richard. I was
not surprised to hear that they were named after Lord Protector Cromwell and
his son. It explained a lot.'

'What
can I do for you, sir?'

'Tell
me what you have found out in my absence.'

'Little
enough, I fear,' admitted Jonathan, 'though the surgeon confirmed my guess when
he performed the autopsy. Sir Ambrose had been dead for at least twelve hours,
he said, but he could not be precise about the actual time of the murder. The
wound to the heart killed him but the bruises on his neck suggested an attempt
to strangle him. Oh,' he recalled, 'one other interesting fact. There was blood
on Sir Ambrose's hair.'

'I
remember it well. A head wound?'

'No,
sir. It did not belong to the deceased at all. It must have come from the man
who murdered him.'

'Sir
Ambrose fought back hard, then?'

'So
it appears.'

'What
else did the surgeon say?'

'Nothing
of note. You are free to see the coroner's report.'

'Thank
you, Mr Bale. I will. It will make gruesome reading but may yet release a
valuable clue. Where else have your enquiries taken you?'

'Along
the riverbank,' explained the other. 'Sir Ambrose was a person of some note in
the mercantile community. And not a popular one at that. The merchants told me
straight that they resented a man of his wealth and background forcing his way
into their world. He did not belong there, they said. What they really meant is
that he competed far too well against them. Sir Ambrose was a cunning trader.'

'So
I have discovered.'

'He
imported goods from many countries.'

'What
sort of goods?'

'I
have made a list for you, sir, to study at your leisure.'

'That
will be very helpful.'

'What
of you? When did you get back from Kent?'

'Early
this morning. I spent last night at an inn then rode the final few miles to
London.'

'Did
you learn anything from the visit?'

'An
enormous amount.'

Christopher
Redmayne gave him an edited account of his journey to Priestfield Place,
including a description of the arrogant behaviour of George Strype but omitting
any mention of Lady Northcott's apparent indifference to her husband's death.
The image of her, seated so happily in the garden with a smile on her lips, was
still vivid in his mind yet he somehow felt the need to protect her from the
constable's strong disapproval. What shocked Jonathan the most was the news
that Sir Ambrose had kept his wife and daughter ignorant of the building of
another London house.

'There
should be no secrets between man and wife,' he said.

'I
agree with you.'

'Marriage
vows are there to be observed.'

'I
raised the matter with Solomon Creech,' said Christopher wearily. 'He was the
first person I called on when I returned to the city this morning. I taxed him
with this deception of Sir Ambrose's. He pretended to know nothing of it.'

'Did
you glean anything of value from him, sir?'

'Precious
little. The man is running scared. He seemed to be looking over his shoulder
all the time. I fear that we can look for no assistance from that quarter. My
brother, however, has been more helpful.' He took the paper from his pocket and
passed it over. 'Henry compiled a list of the main political enemies of Sir
Ambrose. Do these names mean anything to you?'

Jonathan
studied the list carefully then handed it back to him.

'No,
sir. I do not meddle in politics. These men are strangers to me. The only name
I have heard before is that of Mr George Strype.'

'Indeed?'

'He,
too, trades in many commodities.'

'Politeness
is not one of them.'

'They
spoke his name with contempt along the wharves,' said Jonathan. 'He and Sir
Ambrose were partners in some enterprises and were equally disliked by their
rivals.'

'Would
that dislike provide a motive for murder?'

'Possibly.'

'Then
ferret away among the merchants,' suggested Christopher. 'I have a strong
feeling that the murder is in some way linked to Sir Ambrose's business
activities.'

'So
have I, Mr Redmayne.'

'Those
cellars signify something as well.'

'In
what way, sir?'

'I
am not yet sure. They are much larger than a house of that size would normally
have. Why? What did he intend to keep there? And another thing,' concluded
Christopher. 'Sir Ambrose was last seen going down into those cellars with a
man who was, in all probability, the killer. Why did he take his companion
there if not to show him the extent of the cellars? That man must have been a
business associate of his.'

'Not
any more,' sighed Jonathan.

'No,
Mr Bale. His character underwent a complete change once he was below ground. He
entered those cellars as a friend of Sir Ambrose and emerged from them as his
killer.'

'What
happened to bring about that change?' Christopher rose to his feet, eyes
glistening with determination.

'When
we catch the villain,' he said grimly, 'we will ask him.'