Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle. “There will be questions.”
“Lots of questions,” Col agreed, and pulled her to her feet to help straighten her dress before they broke the news to his friends.
* * *
Col hadto leave as soon as he’d calmed as many of Dee’s fears as he could, to report in to JP Miller with the river police.
He stepped down from the hack close to the docks and made his way toward the office. Miller was waiting impatiently. “Come in,” he urged. “We have lots to go over.”
He pulled a box piled high with paper from a corner of the room. “The body count overnight with river ‘floaters’ was inordinately high, even for this neighborhood.”
“Oh?” Col was intrigued now.
“The most baffling body was one that wasn’t hard to identify, but we can’t figure out how he died.” He pulled a stack of pages from the box. “Seems he’s John Harwood, the Earl of Cleveden. He was dumped sometime last night but we’re not sure what he died of. The surgeon said he didn’t drown.” He pulled a final paper from the untidy stack. “And then there’s Bernard Deauville, another mystery to solve. He’s been running fraud set-ups for years. Never caught, though. Never could prove he’d done anything”
Col senses tingled. “That’s the man I’ve been searching for in connection with the chess murders.” He didn’t mention what he knew about Cleveden, because there would be questions he had no intention of answering.
“Well that’s Deauville, no doubt about it, based on sketches on wanted posters over the years, but he didn’t drown either.”
“What happened?”
“We’re not sure, but the surgeon said there was hardly half a cup of blood left in his body.”
“He did have a lot of enemies who hated him.”
“Enough to drink the poor bastard’s blood dry? And then there’s that cult of weird chess players, blood drinkers disguised as human chess pieces without a bit of clothes on. We caught one of them at another, um, ritual the other night in the same abandoned tunnel. Can’t give you his name, but from his account in exchange for remaining uncharged, it seems a bunch of aristos were convinced they could become chess geniuses by drinking the blood of old chess masters that played in coffee houses around the city.”
Col shook his head and breathed a sigh of relief. Now he wouldn’t have to reveal too much of what he already knew about Charlotte’s old handler. He could only hope the Thames overnight toll of bodies would signal the end of the string of chess murders he’d been investigating, but who knew? Investigations didn’t always proceed in straight lines. Only time would tell.
* * *
When Col returnedto the St. James Square area where Aunt Camilla had her townhouse, he noticed a carriage with a familiar coat of arms, minus its usual lone occupant, pulling out of a side street. Now what? What new way would the marquess try to interfere in their lives? Perhaps he’d try to dissuade Charlotte from marrying a poor investigator like him. If he did, Col would have to cut out his heart.
When Col knocked on the door, the butler immediately showed him into the front drawing room where Aunt Camilla, Charlotte, and Eugenie were deep in discussion with the marquess. Aunt Camilla was about to pour tea.
As soon as the old codger spotted Col, he indicated he should take the settee next to where his footman had placed his wheeled chair.
Aunt Camilla had already brought out brandy for Wisenberry, so she probably was familiar with his habits.
When he motioned for Col to join him in a toast, Col shook his head. “A little early yet for me.” When he slanted a look Charlotte’s way, she gave him a knowing smile and he couldn’t help grinning.
“I heard you’ve committed the unthinkable sin.” The marquess took a healthy sip and nodded toward Charlotte who was across the room drinking tea with Aunt Camilla.
Col clapped the older man on the back and admitted, “Yes, she’s going to be mine, all mine, as soon as we can get the banns read.”
Wisenberry shook his head sadly. “If you’re interested, I’ve provided the perfect wedding present.”
Col started. “What would that be?”
“Are you familiar with the Earl of Cleveden?”
Col leaned close so that no one else could hear. “The river police found him dead in the river last night.”
“But you do know him?”
“Yes, and I’m beginning to think you already knew I was familiar with him.”
“He’s the one who’s been trying to carry off your daughter. Wanted to see if she looked like her mother, and if she did…he’d have been forced to get rid of her.” the old marquess confided.
