“Sit and rest your leg. I know the damp pains it.”
Denis was rarely this solicitous, but I decided not to argue. I sank to the chair as though I’d come for a friendly visit.
He too resumed his seat, reaching to the side table to straighten the book, which was a treatise on ancient pottery. He said nothing more, only waited for me to state the intention of my visit.
“I would like to ask a favor,” I said as though the request did not discomfit me.
“I assumed so.” Denis steepled his fingers, waiting for me to continue.
“I need to know what happened on a night in London about a year ago, in the City. Lombard Street, or a lane just off it.” I spoke quickly, my idea seeming farfetched now.
Denis did not change expression. “A tall order.”
“But necessary. I thought perhaps if you had people reporting to you unusual things that occurred around London, I could find out the truth of how a man named Cockburn—who was misidentified as Broadhurst—met his death. If he was killed by Broadhurst or someone hired to carry out the deed, or if he was simply struck down by a passing ruffian.”
“Ah. You refer to Mr. Broadhurst, the swindler. He cheated powerful men.”
“And not-so-powerful ones. Left them destitute.”
“All stockbroking men are swindlers of some sort,” Denis said philosophically. “They manipulate the markets, and when those markets fail, they climb out of the mess in innocence, with their fees intact. A reason I do not invest my money in the City.”
“Very cynical,” I said.
“But true. So the man killed was not Broadhurst at all.” His eyes flickered, his only indication of surprise. “I assume you know that for a fact or you would not state it to me. I read of the man’s death in the newspapers at the time but thought no more of it. What is your interest in the matter?”
“I wish to assist the dead Mr. Cockburn’s brother, a man I pity.” I briefly told him about meeting first Broadhurst and then Joseph Cockburn. “Cockburn believes Broadhurst himself was the murderer, and this is entirely possible. I need to find evidence so that Broadhurst can be tried and the Cockburn family cleared of stain.”
Denis tapped his fingertips together. “As I said, a tall order, but I believe it can be done.”
“True evidence,” I stressed. “Not a convenient witness who likely witnessed nothing. The magistrate must believe it, as must a judge and jury.”
“Your confidence in the justice system is somewhat amusing, Captain,” Denis said. “But you are correct that my men are everywhere in the metropolis and they tell me about any untoward events. They possibly did not consider the death of Broadhurst of any interest to me, but I will ask about it.”
“Thank you.” I was slightly surprised he agreed so readily, but Denis never revealed his motives for anything he did. “As we are talking of favors, I tried to offer Gian the money for the statue you requested, but he thought me foolish. I insisted but did not have the chance to pay him before he was arrested. Might I assume you still want the piece?”
“I do. Do not bring it to me until you pay him. And before you ask why, that is my business. Have you discovered anything of note about de Luca and his death?” Denis could switch topics with breathtaking rapidity.
“Not yet.” I told him how I’d searched through several rooms in the house but found no hiding places for the list Denis sought.
“He would not have hidden it somewhere so obvious,” Denis said. “Or it could be he had no such tangible list at all.”
I hid my exasperation. “Why do you think he might have had one?”
Denis gave a minute shrug. “He was ambitious. De Luca liked to be the person everyone came to for items they wanted. A record would help him keep his sources organized, and also give him a hold over any of those people if he needed one.”
More cynicism, but Denis had seen much in his life.
“Even Napoleon came to him,” I remarked.
“Just so. That must have been an interesting meeting—both men liked to manipulate a situation for their own gain. De Luca might have won.”
“He claimed to.”
“Possibly.” Denis made another shrug. “Or possibly he told you what you wished to hear. He might have kept the list I want in his own head or stored it in another location entirely.”
“Then how the devil do you expect me to find it?” I asked in irritation.
“You looking at all is helpful. You might unnerve a confederate to try to destroy the list, and then my men will stop him. If everything was committed to de Luca’s memory, then we have nothing to worry about.”
