“But if you need a job,” one of the cabbies said, a leer on his face, “I’ve got a position I can put you in. And my meat is more than— Oy!” He rubbed the back of his head where another cabbie had swiped his crop. “What was that for?”
“Keep your filth to yourself.” The cabbie with the crop saluted her. “Have a good day, miss.”
She nodded her thanks and waved goodbye as her cab pulled into the street. This investigation business wasn’t that hard. Her first challenge of the day, and she’d discovered where she wanted to go by… throwing herself on the mercy of kindly cab drivers for an entirely embarrassing discussion.
She slouched down. When she retold the story to Brogan, she would gloss over this part of the investigation.
The cab pulled to a stop in front of a two-story brick building. A large sign on the second floor cheerfully proclaimed she’d reached the agency. She paid and thanked the driver, then stared at the door. Well, there was nothing for it. She pushed inside. She might not know the right questions to ask, but indecision never solved anything.
A young man of not more than twenty sat behind a desk in the center of the room. Two benches lined the walls, three men in various levels of stylish dress occupying them. Three doors led to private offices and a stairwell to the side went to the second floor.
The young man at the desk looked up, a sketch of a welcome smile on his face. “Good morning. Can I help you?”
She dug her fingers into her pocketbook. “Yes. I’m Lady Juliana Wickham. My family uses your agency often, and I was hoping to speak to someone about a former secretary. Is Mr. Hardmeat available?” She ignored the snigger from one of the men on the benches behind her.
“The senior Mr. Hardmeat is not available.” The boy raised his voice, directing his words to one of the offices. “The senior Mr. Hardmeat likes to espouse the value of hard work to the younger Mr. Hardmeat, but never seems to actually partake in said hard work on his own.”
Muffled cursing erupted inside the office. The door was flung open. “Boy! I’m going to…” He caught sight of Juliana and adjusted his cravat. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize there was a lady present.” He glared at his son. “We’ll discuss this later.”
The younger Mr. Hardmeat rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait.”
Juliana pressed her lips together, fighting her smile. Young men were the same the world over. “My father is Lord Withington. I’d like to speak to you about Mr. Pickens.”
Mr. Hardmeat shook his head. “Terrible business that was. Just terrible. But we aren’t responsible for what goes on after the man starts work. We ran all the necessary background checks, told your father all the pertinent information. If Mr. Pickens went bad later, it isn’t our fault.”
She forced her smile to remain on her face. “Of course, we don’t hold you responsible. But I would like to know a bit more about the man’s background and how he came to us. Do you have any records on him I can read?”
“Well…” He scratched his grizzled jaw. “I can’t see a reason why not.” Though from his expression it looked as though he had tried hard to find one. “I’ll go see what we have in our files.”
She started to follow him to his office, but he stopped and pointed at a bench. “Wait here, if you please. Mrs. Hardmeat wouldn’t like me having a woman in my office. I’m sure you can understand.”
Not really. Juliana didn’t understand the point of jealousy. Either you trusted your partner or you didn’t. But she settled herself on a bench, keeping a good two feet between her and the other occupant. He smelled of onions, a vegetable she particularly detested, and she didn’t want to encourage conversation.
But her space meant nothing to him. He planted a hand on the bench and leaned closer. “Oy. You looking to hire another secretary?”
She examined his work trousers and the dirt underneath his fingernails. He didn’t look like the professional sort, but appearances could be deceiving.
“I’m sorry, but we’re not looking to replace him at this time.”
The man loosed a deep belly laugh. “Me as a secretary. That’s a good one. No, I’m a thief-taker. Looking to get hired by the Bow Street boys, I am.”
“A thief-taker?” Those were investigators of a sort. They didn’t have the best reputations, however. As likely to extort a fee from the criminal they were after than bring him to justice. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and without Brogan to guide her, she would take what she could get.
“What interesting employment.” She gave the man her most charming smile. “When someone hires you to catch a thief, what steps do you take to discover the blackguard?”
He snorted. “Usually, the person who hires me tells me who took their property. It’s not much of a mystery.”
“Well then, say it is a crime where the victim can’t talk. Say it’s a murder. How would you go about catching the killer?”
He shot her a wide-eyed look, and she hastily added, “I’ll bet that’s the type of question Bow Street will ask of you. How would you answer?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Well, in a gruesome case like that, I’d start with the victim, I guess. Figure out what type of man he was. Reasons someone would want to kill him. Work from there.”
“Huh.” She sat back. She hadn’t really considered thewhyof someone trying to kill her father. He was kind and absent-minded and completely harmless. If she’d thought about it at all, she just assumed it had something to do with money.
Although, his earldom was one of the poorest in the land. Why would someone go after him when there were so many richer targets that would be more profitable?
“Here’s the file.”
