Don’t Look Back

Chapter Eighteen

Tobias sank into the chair across from Crackenburne and reached for the bottle of brandy that sat on the table between them.

“Leg bothering you again today?” Crackenburne asked without looking up from his newspaper.

“It’s not the leg so much as the conversation I just had with a possible suspect.” Tobias tipped the bottle and poured. The clink of glass against glass brought to mind a fleeting image of the Hades Cup. “What can you tell me about Vale?”

Crackenburne hesitated and then slowly lowered the paper far enough to peer at Tobias over the top. “Wealthy. Widowed. Secretive. He’s the head of a very small, exclusive little club of collectors. Writes scholarly papers for the journals. Has a habit of disappearing for weeks at a time to dig up old Roman ruins in the country.”

“I know that much. I also know that he was a close friend of Fielding Dove.” Tobias took a swallow of the brandy and relaxed into the chair. “Which means that he probably was aware that Dove was the head of the Blue Chamber. Think Vale might have been involved in some of its activities?”

“Never heard anything to indicate that he was connected to that criminal organization.” Crackenburne folded his paper and put it aside. “Which is not to say that he wasn’t, of course. In his own way Vale is just as clever and possibly just as dangerous as Dove was in his time. But I think his interests lie elsewhere.”

“Antiquities.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he would commit murder to obtain a very special Roman artifact associated with an ancient cult here in England?”

Crackenburne grew thoughtful. “I cannot say for certain. I’ve heard he is somewhat obsessive on the subject of such British-Roman relics. But I will give you my opinion, for what it’s worth.”

“And that is?”

“If Vale did commit murder for it, I very much doubt that you’d ever be able to trace the deed to him. He’s no fool. He would cover his tracks well.”

Tobias turned the brandy glass between his palms. “The murderer we’re after did leave something personal behind. His cravat.”

Crackenburne snorted. “Can’t see Vale being that careless.”

“Unless, of course, he knew that the damned neckcloth would lead us to a dead end. After all, it told us nothing except that Celeste Hudson was probably murdered by a gentleman rather than a poorly dressed footpad.”

Crackenburne shook his head with grave authority. “If Vale had taken pains to leave behind a false clue, you can be certain it would have led you to whoever he wished you to think was the killer. You just said the cravat led you to no one in particular.”

“It led me nowhere and therefore we must assume that Vale is probably not the killer.” Tobias smiled wryly. “The logic is somewhat convoluted, to say the least, but I am inclined to agree. In truth, I never placed too much hope in the possibility that his lordship was guilty. The entire affair is far too murky for such a convenient explanation.”

“Not Vale’s style at all.” Crackenburne picked up the brandy bottle and poured himself a glass. “But there is another reason why I think you can exclude him.”

“What is that?”

Crackenburne sipped brandy with a meditative air. “Can’t see Vale murdering a woman in cold blood. The man’s no saint, of course. I think it’s safe to say that under certain conditions he could be quite dangerous. Not unlike you, to be blunt. But I do not believe that he would strangle a woman to death. Not for a bloody antiquity.”

Tobias recalled the reverential way in which Vale had cradled the Hades Cup in his hands. “Not even if he placed a very high value on that particular antiquity?”

“He’s a shrewd, clever player who generally gets what he wants in the end. But in this sort of situation, I’m quite certain that he would have found other means to his ends.” Crackenburne smiled slightly before taking another swallow of brandy. “Just as you would have done under similar circumstances.”

Tobias watched the flames on the hearth for a time, contemplating what Crackenburne had said.

“Any other news for me?” he asked after a while.

“I did come up with a couple of interesting rumors concerning Gunning and Northampton.”

Tobias cocked a brow. “Yes?”

Crackenburne paused for effect, clearly relishing his moment. “Word has it that the households of both gentlemen may have been burglarized at some point in the past several months.”

Tobias put down his glass with such force that it sounded as if it had cracked on the tabletop. “‘May have been burglarized?”

“There was no evidence of a housebreaker. No smashed windows or broken locks. Nor is there any way to know precisely when the objects disappeared. Some feel the owners, who are both in their dotage, may simply have misplaced the items in question.”

“What sort of items are we talking about?”

“In the case of Lord Gunning, a pair of diamond earrings that belonged to his late wife. Northampton’s household is missing a very fine pearl-and-emerald necklace that was supposed to have gone to his daughter.”

“Bloody hell. The lady was, indeed, a jewel thief. And I’ll wager her recently widowed husband is in the same line.”

“Howard, do come in and sit down.” Lavinia put down the pen she had been using to make notes in the journal and motioned her visitor to a chair. “I believe there is some tea left in the pot. Allow me to pour you a cup.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Howard closed the study door behind him, but he did not sit down. Instead, he came to a halt in front of her desk and stood looking at her. “I was feeling quite restless this afternoon so I decided to take a walk.” He spread his hands. “The next thing I knew, I was standing at your front door.”

“I understand,” she said gently. “I expect you are anxious to know if Mr. March and I have made any progress in our inquiries.”

“I must admit the subject is foremost in my mind these days.” He removed his watch from his pocket and began to toy with it in an absent fashion. The gold fobs dangled and danced. “Tell me the truth, Lavinia. Do you really think you can find the bastard who murdered my Celeste?”

Tobias had told her that it was important to reassure the client as often as necessary, she reminded herself.

“We are making progress,” she said firmly. “Mr. March and I feel certain that we shall find her killer.”

“My dear Lavinia.” The watch fobs swayed in a steady rhythm. “What would I do without you?” Howard’s voice deepened and grew heavy. “My dear, dear friend. You and I have so much in common. So much to talk about. So much that we can explore together, my dear friend.”

The intent quality of his gaze and the gold fobs disturbed her. Surely he was not attempting to put her into a mesmeric trance in such a sly fashion. This was her dear friend Howard, after all. He would not seek to take advantage of her with his skills. The steady, relentless movement of the fobs was simply happenstance, not deliberate. This was her dear old family friend.

“Such a dear friend…”

Quite suddenly she knew that she needed to look away. The urge was strong, but when she tried to avert her eyes from the gold watch fobs, it proved surprisingly difficult. She raised her fingers to touch the silver pendant that she wore at her throat, and the unpleasant sensation eased.

Relieved, she studied the page of the journal that was open in front of her. “As it happens, I am glad you came by this afternoon, Howard. I have been going over some notes and I find I have a few more questions.”

“I will tell you anything I can, of course, my dear, dear friend.” His voice was as resonant as a large bell. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Forgive me for such a personal inquiry, but I must ask how you came to be aware that Celeste was having an affair.”

“How does a man know such a thing? I suppose it was a matter of small clues, most of which I chose to ignore at first. She began to go shopping more frequently and returned late, sometimes without any purchases to show for her efforts. There were days when she seemed too cheerful or excited or impatient for no apparent cause. What can I say? She acted the way a young woman in love acts.”

Lavinia looked up at that and found herself staring at the dangling watch fobs again. The effort required to look away this time left her feeling rather breathless.

“Does that answer your question, my dear, dear friend?”

She was imagining this, she thought. Howard was not trying to induce a trance. Perhaps she was becoming a victim of bad nerves.

Returning her attention to her notes, she pressed on determinedly. There was another question she wanted to ask. She had to work hard to remember it.

“The antiquity Celeste stole belonged to Lord Banks,” she said. “Have you ever met him?”

“No, my dear friend.”

The gold seals bobbed gently.

“Do you think that Celeste may have somehow contrived to meet him?”

“I don’t see how that would have been possible.” Howard frowned. “Unless she was acquainted with him before I met her.”

“I had not thought of that possibility.” She tapped the quill on the edge of the ink bottle a few times. “I wonder if that is how she came to know about the bracelet.”

Tap…. tap… tap…

“I cannot answer that, my dear, dear friend____________________”

She suddenly realized that the tip of the quill was striking the bottle in a pattern that matched the swaying movements of the dangling watch fobs. She stopped and hastily put down the pen.

“You are trying to establish the manner in which Celeste learned of the antiquity,” Howard said.

“Yes.” Lavinia closed the journal. This time when she raised her eyes, she avoided his gaze by focusing on a picture that hung on the wall across the room. She tried to appear pensive rather than rude.

There was a short pause. Then, with an almost inaudible sigh, Howard dropped the watch back into his pocket. He began to pace the study.

“I think that the most likely explanation is that her lover informed her of the whereabouts of the bracelet and its value,” he said.

“But if he knew those facts, why did he not steal it himself? Theft is a dangerous business. Why send her to do the deed?”

“I’ll tell you why. The bloody bastard was too cowardly to take the risk of entering the mansion.” Howard’s voice throbbed with fierce emotion. He closed one hand into a fist at his side. “He preferred to force my Celeste to take such risks. He used her and then he murdered her.”

“I’m sorry, Howard. I know this is difficult for you.”

“Forgive me. You are only attempting to help, but when I think about the monster who strangled her I cannot contain my feelings.”

“I understand.”

“Please give me a moment to compose myself.” Howard turned away abruptly and went to look at the spines of the books on a nearby shelf.

After a few seconds he smiled wistfully. “You have not lost your taste for poetry, I see. You were always very fond of it, as I recall.”

It was a great relief not to have to avoid his eyes, she thought. “Emeline says it is a sign that I am a romantic at heart.”

“You have not had much opportunity for romance in your life, have you, my dear?” His voice was low, freighted with understanding and deep sympathy.

“I would not say that.” She tried to keep her own voice light. “My husband was a poet, if you will recall. I thought him wonderfully romantic.”

“I remember meeting him at your wedding.” Howard turned around unexpectedly, trapping her with his eyes. “I did not think that he was the right man for you, but it was not my place to speak of such matters. You seemed so happy at the time.”

“I was happy. For a while.” Instinctively, she touched the silver pendant again. The trapped feeling dissipated once more.

“I was sorry to learn of his untimely death from fever. I know it must have been very difficult for you, following, as it did, so soon in the wake of the loss of your parents.”

“Howard, I think it would be best if we returned to the subject of Celeste’s murder. We really do not have time to reminisce.”

“Do you miss your career as a mesmerist, my dear?” he asked in a strangely gentle tone. “You displayed such a gift for the science while still in the schoolroom. Quite astounding, actually. I cannot but assume that your talents have only grown stronger with the years. May I ask what made you abandon the profession?”

“I really don’t think this is the time or place to-”

She broke off at the sound of familiar bootsteps in the hall. A few seconds later the study door opened abruptly. Tobias glanced at her briefly and then immediately switched his attention to Howard.

“I beg your pardon if I am interrupting a private conversation,” he said.

His tone of voice made it quite clear that he was not the least bit sorry, Lavinia thought. In fact, unless she was sorely mistaken, he was furious.

“Not at all,” Howard said smoothly. “We were discussing the inquiry.”

“I see.” Tobias looked at Lavinia. “I believe we have an appointment.”

“Really? I do not seem to recall-” Something in his expression made her swallow the rest of her words. She summoned what she hoped was a professional sort of smile. It was never a good idea to let the client know that there might be some friction between oneself and one’s partner. “Yes, of course. An appointment. It slipped my mind, sir. Howard, if you will excuse us, Mr. March and I must deal with some pressing issues involving your case.”

Howard hesitated, his gaze switching from Tobias to her and back again. For a second she thought he might prove stubborn. But in the end he inclined his head in a graceful nod.

“Yes, of course.” He gave Tobias an unreadable stare as he went through the opening into the hall. “I shall hope for a report of positive results at your earliest convenience.”

Tobias said nothing until the door in the front hall opened and closed. Only then did he turn back to Lavinia. He crossed the study, planted his hands on top of her desk, and fixed her with an expression that sent a shiver clear to her bones.

“I want your word,” he said in a voice that was as chilling as his expression, “that you will never again allow yourself to be closeted alone with Hudson.”

“I beg your pardon? What on earth-” She broke off on a shocked gasp when he rounded the desk and plucked her out of her chair. “How dare you, sir. Put me down at once.”

“Your word, Lavinia.”

“Why should I make such an outlandish promise?” she sputtered. “You know very well that Howard is an old friend.” An old, dear friend.

“I do not trust him alone with you.”

“I assure you, he is a gentleman.”

“He may be a killer.”

“I do not believe that for one moment.”

“Even if he did not murder his wife, I do not like the way he looks at you.”

She parted her lips to offer another defense of Howard. But the memory of how strangely uneasy she had felt a few minutes earlier when Howard had pinned her with his fathomless gaze stopped the words in her throat. Truth be told, she thought, she did not particularly want to be alone with Howard again, even though she was not sure why.

“Promise me, Lavinia.”

“Oh, very well,” she muttered ungraciously. “If it will make you set me down on my feet and cease acting in this ridiculous fashion, I shall give you my word. Any future conversations with Howard will be conducted with someone else present. Does that satisfy you?”

“Not entirely. The only thing that would truly satisfy me would be for you to drop this case and never come in contact with Hudson again. But I know that is not going to happen, so, for now, I will accept your word that you will not be private with him.”

“Yes, yes, you have it.”

He lowered her to her feet.

“Enough of this nonsense.” She fussed with her skirts and patted her hair. “We have work to do.”

He watched her with a dark, brooding expression.

“I learned some very interesting facts this afternoon from Crackenburne,” he said. “It seems that those two gentlemen in Bath whose names Celeste gave us as references are both missing valuable items of jewelry.”

Lavinia frowned. “Antiquities?”

“No. At least there was nothing to indicate that they were old. Merely expensive. A pair of diamond earrings and a gemstone necklace.”

“Good heavens.” She sank slowly back down onto her chair. “Celeste really was a jewel thief. For some reason she was inspired to try her hand at stealing antiquities. I wonder why.”

“An excellent question since, in my experience, the more professional class of thieves tends to specialize in particular types of valuables. But that is not important at the moment. What is crucial is that this information gives us another way of looking at the matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“I suspect that Hudson and his wife worked as partners in the family business, as it were.”

She was outraged. “What’s this? Are you accusing Howard of being a jewel thief?”

“I think it very likely, yes.”

“First you label him a murderer and now you call him a thief. It is quite outrageous. Allow me to tell you, sir, that you are allowing your personal feelings in this matter to influence your judgment.”

“But if I am right,” he said softly, “if Celeste and Howard Hudson were partners in theft, we have yet another motive for murder here.”

“A falling-out among thieves? You think Howard killed her not because she betrayed him with another man but because she attempted to make off with the antiquity? Rubbish.” Lavinia gave a ladylike sniff. “I refuse to countenance the possibility that Howard murdered his wife.”

Tobias said nothing. He just looked at her for a long moment.

“Well?” She frowned. “What is it?”

“I cannot help but notice that you are not rushing to defend Hudson from the charge of theft.”

She sighed and sank deeper into her chair. “You’re certain about the stolen jewelry in Bath?”

“As certain as I can be without proof. But Crackenburne’s information is almost always reliable.”

She picked up her pen and fiddled with it absently while she forced herself to contemplate the facts from a dispassionate distance. “I will admit that if Celeste was such an active thief, it is highly unlikely that Howard did not, at the very least, suspect something.”

“I think it far more probable that he was involved in the thefts.”

“If that is so, why would he take the risk of hiring us?”

“He did not want to hire us. He wanted to hire you. And he did so because the Medusa bracelet is missing and he wants to find it.” Tobias frowned. “In any event, he may not believe that he is taking much of a risk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Lavinia. He didn’t go to Bow Street to find a detective, did he? He came to you, an old acquaintance who remembers him fondly, a dear friend from the past who would never for a moment consider the possibility that he might be guilty of either murder or theft.”

She winced and placed the pen very precisely down on the blotter. “I’m still not convinced. It is entirely possible that there are other explanations for the murder and the theft. Poor Howard.”

“Poor Howard, indeed.” Tobias looked amused. “Just his bloody luck that when he hired you, he got me in the bargain.”