Isherwood held up his hand, and to my surprise, Forbes clamped his mouth closed. The young man, a colonel like his father, outranked him, yes, but from what I remembered, Forbes had never been the obedient sort. Young Isherwood must have commanded his respect.
“As I say, we have not—and those at the Pavilion have not—announced he was murdered,” Isherwood went on. “It would cause a sensation that the Regent cannot afford, and neither would the regiment want it. Nor do I.” Isherwood gave me an apologetic look. “We have put about that he felt unwell in the night and died of a sudden illness.”
“Should send for the Runners,” Forbes muttered. “Villain is probably far out to sea by now.”
“I can only believe it was some ghastly accident,” Isherwood said. “My father could be … prickly. Perhaps he quarreled with a man, or did something as foolish as challenge him to a duel, and was run through in the heat of the moment.”
“And the blackguard fled,” Forbes said. “Heading for Paris or Amsterdam, never to be seen again.”
“In that case, little we can do.” Isherwood’s voice hardened. “I will, of course, if the villain can be found, prosecute and bring him to justice. But damned if I’ll let my father’s death be fodder for the newspapers or the morbid masses, who enjoy flocking to scenes of murders. Not what I want marring my father’s memory.”
“I understand,” I said. He was not wrong—when murders occurred, especially in out-of-the way places, people swarmed to the scene of the grisly crime to gape at the scene and take small things, even pebbles or nails, as souvenirs.
The Prince Regent would hardly want a mob to surround the Pavilion and worse, try to enter and take whatever they found. With the renovation going on, there would be plenty of costly building supplies lying about and not enough men to guard the doors.
I moved uneasily. The scenario young Isherwood described—his father quarreling heatedly, the man he argued with lifting the nearest sword and impaling him in anger—I could have done exactly that. If I’d lost my temper, as I was wont, and been far gone on drink ...
And why could I remember nothing? Even the events of the supper and after were blurry. I’d always considered my father teetering on the edge of insanity—perhaps he truly had been, and now that madness had trickled to me.
“Captain Lacey, I have heard from others that you sometimes assist the Runners,” Isherwood said. “Discreetly. I wonder if you can help?”
He put it as a question, but I had a feeling that this young man had made up his mind and was close to making it a command. He had a natural air of authority that not every officer achieved. I’d made my men obedient with my loud shouts and hot temper, but I imagined Giles Isherwood rarely had to raise his voice.
I could not very well refuse. What else could I tell him? That I would not help, because I had to suspect myself?
I gave him a bow. “I will be happy to assist in any small way I can.”
Isherwood acknowledged this with a nod. “Thank you, Captain.” He clasped my hand. “Nothing to be made public.” His handshake firmed as he said the words.
“I agree,” I said.
Isherwood looked into my eyes, his own so like his father’s, and released me.
We said good evening—nothing more to do—and I departed. Major Forbes’s only farewell was a growl.
* * *
Brewster leanedagainst the railings at the end of the crescent, surveying the curve of houses as he waited for me.
“Easy pickings,” he remarked as I joined him.
“I beg your pardon?” I paused to catch my breath, still nonplussed by the interview.
Brewster waved at the houses. “Windows close to the ground, none but seagulls to see a thief from the other side of the road. Residents probably don’t even lock up their valuables, thinking all is safe because they’re on holiday.” He sounded disapproving.
“Please curb your tendencies,” I said. “I have enough troubles without having to save you from arrest.”
Brewster blinked at me in surprise. “I don’t need to do them over. Just observing. Professional like. His Nibs would have me balls if I did some thieving on me own.”
“What about the Pavilion?” I began walking along the seafront in the direction of our lodgings. “What is your professional opinion aboutit?”
“As it’s covered in scaffolding inside and out? Easy pickings again, guv. Valuables would be locked away, but I’d wager they’re in boxes, what are convenient for carrying.”
“So a man could get into and out of the Pavilion unseen? Including Colonel Isherwood and myself, it seems. A man could meet him, stab him to death, and be gone again, with no one the wiser.”
“That’s what happened, most like,” Brewster said. “Lots of holes where doors and windows should be. Bloke could slip in with the workmen. Hide. Wait. Stab, and be out.” He glanced up the road that led to the Pavilion as we passed it. “Shame. All those costly trinkets just sitting there. A man could have enough to make a killing at the next Nazareth, without having to kill in truth.”
“I doubt a robber murdered Isherwood. An interrupted thief would have dropped his loot and run, I’d think. Too risky to tussle with Isherwood, a trained and experienced soldier. Also, I believe the Regent would kick up a fuss if any of his things went missing.”
