The man was walking on thin ice, I could already hear the cracks forming with his persistent probing for information. Nevertheless, I did want information from him and chose to ignore the question. I then dangled the bait that I was fairly certain he would not be able to ignore.
“In the interest of solving the current murder,” I reminded him. “It appears that Chief Inspector Abberline is at somewhat of an impasse as before. He is, after all, a man consumed with ambition. And he does have a reputation for coming up short, as they say,” I added.
Those weasel eyes sharpened. “You perhaps have a proposal to make, Lady Forsythe?”
“Quid pro quo, Mr. Burke,” I replied. “A term you might be familiar with.”
“Something for something?” he replied.
“Precisely.”
“Please continue.”
“The opportunity for an exclusive for the Times when we expose the murderer in the present case, in exchange now for the information you had in the original murder, including the name of the club employee who saw that person leaving just before Stephen Matthews’ body was discovered.”
That gaze narrowed. “That is providing that you and Angus Brodie are able to solve this new murder. I might be able to do that myself. I am not without skills and my own resources.”
Crack, crack, crack…
“Perhaps, however you do not have the additional clues that we now have in the matter of Ellie Sutton’s murder. And if we are able to solve the crime before you do, we would be in a position to ensure that other publications carry the story.”
“What might those clues be that the police have not yet discovered?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss those at this time,” I replied. “Suffice it to say that we have information that the police do not have. I must leave it at that so as not to jeopardize our investigation. Still, you must admit that an exclusive article would be highly prized by the Times,” I pointed out. “Not to mention additional material for the book you intend to write.”
I caught the new interest in his gaze. Not that it was a secret. He had mentioned in a handful of articles that the‘public would no doubt eagerly await a book should he decide to write one about his adventures in journalism.’
“And perhaps an introduction to a well-known London publisher by someone who has been very successful?” He suggested the obvious.
I would rather have had a fingernail ripped off. Still...
“That might be arranged,” I replied.
“As well as an endorsement of my book.” He added yet another requirement.
“Perhaps. Yet, it would depend on the publisher’s final say in the matter.”
A slow smile followed. “Do we need a contract between us, Lady Forsythe?” he suggested. “Something in writing perhaps.”
And something he could use in a newspaper article should I renege? I would sooner have made a pact with the devil.
“You have my word, Mr. Burke.”
“The word of a well-placed lady. I will remember that,” he replied.
He then opened a drawer and pulled out a file. The man did seem to be well organized. Detestable but organized.
He opened the file which I noted was labeled‘Matthews Murder,’ 11 June, 1881.
“The employee in question was an usher for gentlemen attending the club of an evening, a man by the name of Thomas Iverson. I spoke with him, but he remembered little about the man he saw.”
Or perhaps chose to remember little, I thought?
“Do you know where I might find him?” I asked
That slow smile again. “He might still be employed at the club. If not, you have proven yourself to be resourceful in the past. I’m certain you will be able to locate him.”
“Were you able to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Matthews afterward?” I then asked. “Something that Mr. Matthews might have remembered from that night, since he was also there.”
