“And we do our own… research. On occasion,” Wayland added with more significance than I desired as his solicitor.
The majority of the file was devoted to Parker. Associates, properties, banking details, favored bits of muslin, the result of every wager he had ever made at Wayland’s and with Wayland himself before the club opened. It was all there.
Then I reached the section devoted to Bates. He was a less frequent visitor to the club. His financial situation clearly didn’t allow for it. But there was information about his start with our office, his wife, his children. There was more in this file than I had gleaned in the years he worked for me. My gaze caught on the start date for a second.
“December 1810…”
“What?” Augie asked.
“His start date with us… That was a few weeks after Wayland’s opened. You were my first major client.” A sickening feeling bubbled up. All that time…
“Must have been using the position for intelligence. Hand me Parker?” Wayland asked and I passed him the top several pages.
He perused it with interest before handing it over to Ainsley. “His wagers improved substantially a few weeks after his brother started with you. Must have been using the intelligence. Clever…”
I hadn’t considered Bates a friend, but friendly certainly. To know that his betrayal wasn’t a recent development, that he had been using me all those years, it was slightly sickening.
“Why do you suppose he got sloppy all of a sudden?” Kit asked.
“My subtle and well-conducted investigation obviously spooked him,” Celine jested, easing some of the tension.
“Oh yes, you were very subtle. Damn near blended into the walls with how unnoticeable you were,” I replied.
“Well governesses don’t offer instruction on the best methods to conduct a murder investigation.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“I feel like I’ve missed something,” Wayland said.
“That should be a familiar sensation,” Ainsley added, grabbing another tart, ignoring his friend’s glare.
“What about the horse race? Is there anything in there about that?” Celine asked.
“The file you found. It survived the fire.” Kit mumbled between bites of tart. “There were banknotes from Parker and Bates in there, Will.”
“So Parker wrote the original note calling for Gabriel to meet him at dawn. I would know that handwriting from the bank draft anywhere. Perhaps to get Gabriel out of the house before anyone else was about. He probably never even went to the park. One of the men was probably waiting for him at the house when he returned.”
“He was late,” Celine murmured.
“What?”
“He was late. He stopped to buy me flowers. If they had found him when they intended, I wouldn’t have had time to say goodbye. He would have died on the steps before anyone found him.”
My heart ached for her. Even knowing how difficult the goodbye was, how much it hurt her, the idea that she might never have had it… That would be devastating.
“Well, Bates and Dickens aren’t talking. Perhaps evidence will make them a bit more loquacious,” Wayland said. “No one can locate Parker. I’ve got one of my best men on it though. We’ll find him before too long.”
“Please keep me informed?” Celine asked.
“Of course.”
“We should be going,” Kit added. “Will needs to rest.” As soon as he said it, a heavy yawn escaped me.
“We’ll be going then. And we’ll leave the tarts,” Ainsley said pointedly. Wayland and Kit both backed away from the tray slowly. “Will, I wish you a speedy recovery.”
“Right, yes,” Wayland added, snagging a tart from behind Ainsley’s back as they filed out.
Next to me, Celine sighed heavily. She stood and helped me up with gentle hands before allowing me to walk back to the bedroom, unaided.
