The Repentant Rake (17 page)

    'Waste
of time,' he decided.

    'Only
one more house to go.'

    'I
know the people who live there, Jonathan.'

    'Do
they have a lodger?'

    'No.'

    'We
might as well try while we are here.'

    'Why
bother?'

    'Leave
it to me,' said Jonathan.

    He
knocked on the door and a hulking man in a leather apron soon appeared.
Jonathan recognised him as the assistant to a blacksmith in Great Carter Lane.
The man was surly and resentful. With five children, a wife and a mother-in-law
in the house, he pointed out, a man had no room for a lodger. Nor did he know
of a young man called Gabriel Cheever. He went back into the house and closed
the door firmly in their faces. Jonathan was left to face his gloomy colleague.

    'I
told you so,' grunted Warburton.

    'It
was worth a try.'

    'Mr
Cheever is not here.'

    'He
may have moved in recently, Tom.'

    'Where?
We knocked on every door.'

    Jonathan
looked down the length of the street and gave a resigned nod. It had been a
forlorn exercise. All that they had to go on was a possible sighting of Gabriel
Cheever in Knightrider Street by a man who was not entirely certain of what he
saw. Even if the fleeting glimpse had been of Cheever, there was no proof that
he resided in the area. He might have simply been visiting the ward. The
constables were tired. Even the normally ebullient Sam was jaded. It was time
to seek refreshment. Jonathan decided to take one last look at Paul's Wharf
before going home, but Warburton had other chores to deal with and went off in
the opposite direction. Glad to see his master moving with more purpose, the
dog scampered after him with something of its old enthusiasm.

    When he
reached the wharf, Jonathan went to the place beside the warehouse where the
body had been found. He kept thinking about the stones caught up in the man's
coat. If they had not come from the immediate vicinity, where had they been
picked up? He had seen nothing like them on his rounds and he could hardly
search every street, lane and alley in London to find a match. Jonathan was
irritated at his own lack of progress. Had it not been for his wife's
suggestion he would never have thought of calling on Christopher Redmayne, yet
the architect's help had been crucial. But for that, the case would have
remained insoluble. Cheever's murder had been used as a warning. Given his
stern moral code, Jonathan had scant sympathy for the plight of Henry Redmayne,
though he wanted the man responsible for the blackmail to be caught and
convicted. What pleased him was that he and Christopher were engaged in solving
crimes that were linked in some way. It meant that they could team up once more
and pool their resources. It also meant that he could renew a friendship that
was unlikely but curiously satisfying. He would never have believed that he
could like a man of such Cavalier associations. Unlike his brother, Christopher
did not patronise the constable. He appreciated Jonathan's virtues and treated
him as an equal.

    The
constable was still examining the patch of ground beside the warehouse when he
heard a horse approaching at a brisk trot, and he looked up to see a familiar
figure coming towards him. Greeting him with a wave, Christopher reined in his
horse.

    'Mr
Warburton said that I might find you here.'

    'I
was just taking one last look at the place where we found the body.'

    'Have
you discovered anything new?'

    'Not
yet.'

    'Well,
I have,' said Christopher, dismounting. 'I've been to Richmond and back today.
Sir Julius Cheever was there with the rest of the family. I was able to pass on
the bad tidings. I left them to make their own decision about the burial.'

    'The
body cannot stay in the morgue for much longer.'

    'They
understand that, Mr Bale. But I was very glad that I made the journey.'

    'Why?'

    'Because
I was given Gabriel Cheever's address.'

    Jonathan's
spirits rose. 'Where does he live?'

    'Knightrider
Street.'

    'Oh.'

    'I
mean to visit the house immediately.'

    'You
were misinformed,' said the other with a sigh of disappointment. 'Tom Warburton
and I have been to every house and nobody has heard of a Mr Cheever.'

    'Then
someone was lying to you. Follow me.'

    'Where
are we going?'

    'To
meet his wife.'

    Jonathan
gaped. 'Gabriel Cheever was
married?'

    'So
it seems.'

    Christopher
led his horse by the reins and Jonathan fell in beside him. On the walk back to
Knightrider Street, the architect told him about his visit in more detail,
though he said nothing about Susan Cheever's clandestine assistance. The long
ride back had been sweetened by fond memories of their brief time alone
together. Drawn even more to her, he had been given additional reason to track
down her brother's killer. Jonathan responded with a terse account of his own
day, ruing the fact that so little had been accomplished. Christopher assured
him that Knightrider Street might yet yield something of real value to them.

    The
house was in the middle of a neat row of dwellings close to Sermon Lane that
had replaced the tenements destroyed in the Great Fire. Jonathan remembered
calling there earlier and being sent on his way by a plump maidservant. When
Christopher knocked, the same woman came to the door. Short, round and
flat-faced, she had the look of someone who would obey her employer's wishes to
the letter.

    'Good
afternoon,' said Christopher, touching the brim of his hat. 'I wonder if I
might see Mrs Lucy Cheever.'

    'There's
nobody of that name here,' said the woman. 'I told the constable that.'

    'Then
I think you must be mistaken.'

    'No,
sir. I know who my mistress is.'

    'Is
she at home at the moment?'

    'Not
to unexpected visitors, sir.'

    'But
I come as a friend,' explained Christopher. 'I must speak to her as a matter of
urgency. I have news about her husband, Gabriel Cheever.'

    'You
must have confused this address with another one, sir.'

    Christopher
looked her in the eye. 'Are you not interested in what happened to your
master?' he challenged. 'You must surely have missed him by now.'

    The
woman's lids flickered but she held her ground. Jonathan intervened.

    'We
need to report an accident,' he said.

    'What
sort of accident, sir?' she asked.

    'A
serious one.'

    The
maidservant was in a quandary. Ordered to keep everyone at bay, she wanted to
know more details. She hesitated for a full minute. Eventually, she opted to
obey her instructions. Deciding to send them on their way, she was on the point
of closing the door with a token apology when someone came down the staircase
behind her. It was a young woman in a pretty green dress that rustled as she
moved.

    'Did
I hear mention of an accident?' she asked.

    'Yes,
Mrs Cheever,' said Christopher.

    She
blushed slightly. 'My name is Henley, sir.'

    'Lucy
Henley was your maiden name, I suspect. I am looking at Lucy Cheever now. Why
deny it?' he went on before she could protest. 'There is no shame. We are here
with important news of your husband. It was your sister-in-law, Susan, who gave
me this address. You can surely trust her. I think that you should let us in,
Mrs Cheever.'

    Christopher's
soft voice and considerate manner persuaded her. Nodding to the servant to let
them in, Lucy Cheever led the way into the parlour. It was a small but cosy
room with evidence of money and taste in the choice of furnishings. Christopher
noted the small crucifix on the wall. The maidservant lingered protectively in
the doorway but her mistress dismissed her with a glance. When Christopher had
performed introductions, all three of them sat down. Lucy Cheever was a short,
slender woman with a face of porcelain beauty. She looked so small, young and
innocent that it was difficult to believe that she was actually married. There
was a fragility about her that disturbed both men. Neither of them relished the
notion of passing on the news about her husband, fearing that she would be
unable to cope with it.

    'We
thought that you might have come forward,' said Jonathan quietly.

    'Why?'
she asked.

    'To
report that your husband was missing.'

    'But
I was not aware that Gabriel
was
missing, Mr Bale. I've been away for
almost a week. I only returned to the house today.'

    'Should
your husband have been here?'

    'Yes,'
she said, 'but I assumed he had gone out somewhere.'

    'Where
was your servant?'

    'Anna
travelled with me.'

    'So
you did not realise that your husband had gone astray?'

    'No,
Mr Bale. I fully expect him to come back some time today.'

    Jonathan
exchanged a glance with Christopher then let him take over.

    'I
have some sad news, I fear,' said the latter. 'Your husband will not be
returning to his home. Gabriel Cheever was found dead some nights ago.'

    'Dead?'
Lucy's face contorted with pain and her fists tightened. 'Gabriel is dead?'

    'Mr
Bale was there when the body was found.'

    'Where?'

    'The
full details may distress you.'

    'You
spoke earlier of an accident.'

    'It
was no accident, Mrs Cheever,' he said gently.

    Lucy
recoiled as if from a blow to the face and Christopher feared that she might
topple over, but she made a supreme effort to control herself. Holding back
tears, she turned to Jonathan and spoke in a clear voice.

    'Tell
me what happened, Mr Bale.'

    'It
will not make pleasant listening,' he warned.

    'I
want to know,' she insisted.

    'Mrs
Cheever-'

    'I'm
his wife,' she said interrupting him. 'If Gabriel has been killed, I want to
know how. Tell me, Mr Bale. I'm not as frail as I may look, I promise you.'

    Jonathan
swallowed hard then launched into his tale. Christopher was impressed with how
tactful he was, giving a clear account of the discovery of Cheever's body
without dwelling overmuch on how he was murdered. The constable obviously had
long experience of breaking dreadful news to bereaved families. There was a
sensitivity about him that Christopher had never noticed before. Lucy Cheever
heard it all without a flicker, though her face was drawn and her hands remained
bunched in her lap. When the account was over, she looked across at the
crucifix before closing her eyes in a prayer. Christopher was struck by her
composure. For a woman who looked so delicate, Lucy Cheever had the most
remarkable strength of will. When she opened her eyes again, they could see the
grief swirling in them.

    'Would
you like us to leave?' asked Christopher softly.

    'No,
Mr Redmayne.'

    'Shall
I call your servant?'

    'I
can do that for myself when I feel the need.'

    'You're
very brave, Mrs Cheever.'

    'I
want to know all that you can tell me,' she murmured.

    'There
is not much more to tell,' said Jonathan. 'A search is under way for the man
responsible but we have so far unearthed no suspects.'

    'Where
is my husband's body?'

    'Being
held at the morgue until it can be reclaimed by his family.'

    '
I
am Gabriel's family,' she said with sudden anger. 'Everyone else turned their
back on him. Gabriel was a complete outcast.'