The Repentant Rake (10 page)

    'I
have not,' he said firmly.

    Detaching
her hand, he walked quickly away before he lost his temper.

    Jonathan
Bale had too full a day to devote much time to the murder investigation and the
enquiries he had been able to make on that score had borne no fruit. As he walked
back home with Tom Warburton, he confided his frustration.

    'I
wish I could devote all my time to it, Tom.'

    'Leave
that to others,' advised Warburton.

    'But
we found the body. I feel involved.'

    'We've
done all we can, Jonathan.'

    'And
where has it got us?' said the other. 'Nowhere. You've knocked on dozens of
doors in search of witnesses but found none at all. I've put a name to the dead
man but I've no idea who he was or where he lived. Nahum Gibbins gave me an
address but they had never heard of him there.' He ran a hand across his chin.
'Why does a customer give his shoemaker a false address?'

    'Maybe
the name is false as well.'

    'I
thought of that.'

    They
plodded on together. As they passed an alley, Warburton's dog came trotting out
to take his place at his master's heels but he soon darted off ahead of them.
Jonathan watched him pause to sniff at the wall of a tavern.

    He
was pensive. 'What puzzles me is that nobody's come forward.'

    'True.'

    'The
man is missing. Someone in the ward must be worried by his absence.'

    'Only
if he came from round here.'

    'Where
else?'

    'Any
part of the city.'

    'Why
drag him all this way to dispose of the body? No, Tom. He must have some link
with Baynard's Castle ward. I feel it in my bones. And the killer must know the
area as well. He picked a good spot to hide the body. And a good time.'

    'When
nobody was about.'

    'Nobody
who remembers seeing anything, that is.'

    'Ah.'

    'We
must try again tomorrow.'

    'Yes.'

    Jonathan
gave him a farewell wave and turned into Addle Hill. With his dog back at his
heels, Warburton continued on towards his own house. It had been a
disappointing day and Jonathan was glad to be home again. When he entered, Sarah
was coming downstairs, having just put the two boys to bed. Smiling a welcome,
she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

    'I
told them you'd be back in time to read to them.'

    'In a
moment,' he said, going into the kitchen.

    'You
look exhausted, Jonathan.'

    'Annoyed
more than anything else.'

    'Why?'

    'Oh,
it's not fair to bring my troubles home,' he said, dredging up a smile. 'The
problem will keep until morning then I'll start all over again.'

    'Is
it to do with that dead body you found?'

    'Yes.'

    'I thought
you found out a name.'

    'I
did' he agreed, 'but that's all I found out. The address I was given was false.
For some reason, the young man wanted to cover his tracks. All I know is that
he wore expensive shoes and dressed like a gentleman. He might even be a
courtier. That's not a world I know - or want to know - much about, Sarah.'

    
'You've
been to Court,' she said with pride. 'You've spoken to His Majesty.'

    He
wrinkled his nose. 'Not with any pleasure, my love. When he saw fit to employ
me, I had to obey the King but I was never comfortable in his presence. If the
dead man was a courtier, I'll leave it to others to find out more about him.
I'll not venture down to Westminster again. It's a vile place.'

    Sarah
said nothing but her mind was working. While her husband went off to read to
his sons from the Bible, she prepared his supper. So rarely did he talk about
his work at home that she knew this case held a special interest for him. She
wanted to help. When he finally came back to the kitchen, she made a
suggestion.

    'What
about that friend of yours, Jonathan?'

    'Friend?'

    'Mr
Redmayne.'

    'He's
not really a friend, Sarah.'

    'Come
now,' she said reprovingly. 'You know that you like him. You and he worked well
together in the past so don't pretend you have no time for him.'

    'What
can Mr Redmayne do?'

    'See
if the dead man really did go to Court.'

    'How
could he find out? Mr Redmayne is no courtier.'

    'No,'
she said. 'But his brother Henry is. I've heard you mention him.'

    Jonathan
pondered. His wife had made a valuable suggestion. It was an idea that would
never have crossed his own mind because he had so many reservations about his
occasional partnership with Christopher Redmayne. But it was perhaps a way to
secure indirect access to Court. When everything else had failed, it might be
worth a try. He fought hard to overcome his prejudices.

    'Thank
you, Sarah,' he said at length. 'I'll go and see Mr Redmayne tomorrow.'

    Christopher
Redmayne was distressed by his visit to Bedford Street and vowed to help his
stricken brother in every possible way. At the same time, however, he could not
neglect the work in which he was engaged, marking, as it did a major advance in
his career. It was not merely the first commission to come his way as a result
of a property he had already designed, it was also the first to allow him a
free hand in the choice of builder. Earlier clients had reserved the right to
select their own men and this had sometimes created problems. The builder
foisted on him by Jasper Hartwell, for example, had been able but obstructive
and though the house he built was substantially the one that Christopher had
designed, he had criticised the architect at every stage and made the project
an unnecessarily difficult one. It was a relief to know that this time he could
engage a builder who would work with him rather than against him. The choice,
in fact, had already made itself. Having found a congenial partner during the
construction of Elijah Pembridge's new bookshop, Christopher sought out the
same man in the hope that he would be available for hire again. Like most
reputable builders, Sidney Popejoy was extremely busy, but his admiration for
the architect was such that he promised to recruit additional men in order to
take on the project.

    They
adjourned to the site itself to take stock of any potential hazards.

    'A
tidy piece of land' observed Popejoy. 'At a tidy price, I dare say.'

    'Sir
Julius is a wealthy man.'

    'He must
be if he can afford to build a house that he'll rarely use.'

    'Except
when Parliament sits,' said Christopher.

    Popejoy
grinned. 'Sits and sleeps, from what I hear.'

    'Not
while Sir Julius Cheever is around. His voice would wake the dead.'

    'What
sort of client will he be, Mr Redmayne?'

    'One
that expects to get exactly what he pays for.'

    'As
long as he's not looking over our shoulder every hour of the day.'

    'No
danger of that, Mr Popejoy,' said Christopher. 'Once my drawings have met with
his approval, he'll leave us alone to get on with our work. Sir Julius hates
London. It's taking a huge effort of will on his part to move here.'

    'But
he's not really
in
London,' noted Popejoy. 'Westminster is a city in
itself.'

    'It's
all one to him. An object of scorn and derision. He wanted a house built here
so that it was convenient for his visits to Parliament. Our job is to answer
his needs.'

    Popejoy
gave a shrug. 'I foresee no problems there.'

    The
two men were standing in a tree-lined road that ran north from Tuthill Street.
A number of properties had already been built there but the new house would
still allow Sir Julius an uninterrupted view of St James's Park. It was a bonus
for a man accustomed to look out on appealing landscapes. Popejoy strode slowly
around the site, measuring it out and kneeling down to take a closer look at
the ground on which he was to build. He was a short, thickset man with black
hair and bushy eyebrows that arched so expressively above his bulbous eyes that
he seemed to be in a continual state of surprise. Christopher had the highest
respect for him. He had seen how Popejoy could bring the best out of his men.
When the builder rejoined him, he nodded towards the park.

    'Sir
Julius will be able to see the King taking his morning walk.'

    'That's
the last thing he wishes to do, Mr Popejoy,' said Christopher with a smile.
'Left to him, there would be no King.

    Unless
he went by the name of Oliver Cromwell.'

    'What
a sour-faced ruler
he
turned out to be!'

    'Not
in the opinion of our client. He more or less worshipped the man. Whatever else
you do,' he cautioned, 'make no comment about politics to Sir Julius or it will
set him off. He's fanatical in his beliefs. Disparage the Lord Protector and
he's likely to tear up your contract to build his house.'

    Popejoy
nodded. 'I know when to keep my mouth shut, Mr Redmayne. I've been employed by
men of every political persuasion and I made sure that I never spoke a word out
of place to any of them. I prefer to sweeten a client. They pay better that
way.'

    'I
agree,' said Christopher. 'Well, have you seen enough, Mr Popejoy?'

    'I
think so.'

    'Do
you have any questions?'

    'Only
one of significance. When do we start?'

    'As
soon as Sir Julius is satisfied with my design. He plans to be in London very
soon and will call on me at the earliest opportunity. It is simply a case of
standing by.'

    'I'm
not one to stand by, Mr Redmayne,' said the builder, eyebrows reaching an even
higher altitude. 'I've other work to supervise. When the time comes, that's
where you'll find me. Keeping an eye on my men.'

    'As I
would expect.'

    They
mounted their horses and rode back in the direction of the city, discussing the
purchase of materials and the need to safeguard them at night while they were
stored on site. After trading farewells, they parted in The Strand. Christopher
went on to Fleet Street at a brisk trot and turned his horse into Fetter Lane.
When he reached his door, Jacob came hurrying out to take charge of the animal
and to pass on some unexpected information.

    'Someone
has called to see you, Mr Redmayne,' he said.

    'My
brother?'

    'No,
sir. Your friend the constable.'

    Christopher
was astonished. 'Jonathan Bale?'

    'He has
been here the best part of an hour.'

    'Then
it must be important,' decided Christopher, dismounting and handing over the
reins. 'He's ill at ease after two minutes under my roof. To endure it any
longer is a sign of real urgency.'

    He
went in through the door, found Jonathan in the parlour, and waved him back to
his seat when he tried to rise. The visitor was patently uncomfortable in a
house that was so much larger and better furnished than his own.
Notwithstanding his friend's ill-concealed prejudices and dour manner,
Christopher had grown fond of Jonathan Bale. Chance had thrown them together on
more than one occasion and forged a bond that neither would have believed
possible. While Christopher was ready to acknowledge that bond with a cordial smile,
the constable was less forthcoming.

    'I am
sorry to disturb you, Mr Redmayne,' he began solemnly.

    'Not
at all. I'm always glad to see friends.'

    'I
come on an errand.'

    'So I
assumed.'

    'Thus
it stands.' Jonathan did not linger over the social niceties. As soon as his
host was seated opposite him, he gave him a brief account of the murder
investigation and explained why he had such a personal commitment to it.