“No longer. That debt is discharged.”
I noted Denis did not ask how I knew that Haywood had come anywhere near him. He must conclude that one of his lackeys had spilled that information. I would not impart that I heard it from Downie, to spare him Denis’s wrath.
I raised my brows. “You let Haywood out of your net? I was not aware any of us were allowed to go.”
“You paid your debt to me a long time ago, Captain,” Denis said calmly. “Mr. Haywood was becoming desperate to slide away from his, so much so that I decided it was of more benefit to be rid of him. I tell you this so you that do not pursue him in order to pry the truth from him. He would be a dangerous foe. I advise you to leave him alone.”
I tucked away the fact that Denis had just said I owed him nothing. “You and Haywood did not concoct between yourselves to murder Mr. Pickett, did you?” I asked as though such a thought did not horrify me. “To provide Haywood with an opportunity to pay off his favor?”
“Nothing so dramatic.” Denis moved a paper on his desk a fraction of an inch. “I told you, I never met or saw Mr. Pickett. I did not kill him, or even conceive of killing him. Why he came to Seven Dials is a mystery to me. However …” Denis moved the paper again. “Haywood might have. When I stumbled over Mr. Pickett’s body, I assumed he had.”
“That is why you let yourself be arrested,” I said in sudden understanding. “You thought Haywood was presenting you with a way to pay off his debt, and you took it. Why the devil were you outside, anyway? Alone?”
Denis shrugged. “Restless. I’m used to odd hours, but I was ready to return home. Gibbons insisted on cooking breakfast for me, and I went out for some air while I waited. Haywood and his arrogance had tainted the atmosphere inside. Alone, because I knew none would come near me so close to my own house. My arrogance, you can say.”
Or great confidence in his power. “No one stole that knife from your desk, did they?”
“I had it in my pocket,” Denis said. “I’d brought that knife with me, as I prefer it, and I wanted to carry it back home. There was no weapon in Pickett’s chest or anywhere near him. I briefly slid my knife into the wound and out again, so I’d be caught with Pickett’s blood on the blade.”
“Dear God, you took a serious risk. If Spendlove had seen you put it in, you’d even now be swinging from the gallows. Haywood could do precious little about it.”
A minute smile crossed Denis’s lips. “Spendlove’s patrollers are not as efficient as they might be. I had to wait a bit before one came around the corner and saw me. I nearly gave it up and went back inside.”
I sat up straight, setting the brandy aside. “How long did you wait?”
“A matter of minutes. I wouldn’t have minded so much, except it was raining quite hard.”
“Exactly. Was Pickett very wet?”
Denis paused, eyes flickering as he thought back. “I would not say so.”
“Then I might very well be right,” I said in triumph. “I believe Pickett was killed elsewhere and brought to your doorstep.”
Another pause. “Which would not negate my theory that Haywood murdered him or had someone do it for him. Strengthens the idea, in fact.”
“Proving it will be a devil of a thing, though. Especially if Haywood is as powerful as you claim—or has as much pull with powerful people.”
Denis leaned slightly toward me. “I have told you about Haywood in confidence, Captain, a confidence that I expect you to keep. Meaning even Mr. Grenville must remain in the dark.”
“Grenville is more trustworthy than you or your men give him credit for,” I said with a touch of indignation.
“That may be, but the fewer who know a fact, the easier it is to keep from others. I know you tell everything to your wife, which I believe is unusual in a marriage, but I have faith in Lady Breckenridge’s discretion.”
I sat back in my chair, taking up the brandy again. “You wanted me to stay out of the way so Haywood could have a word with the right people to have you released. I am annoyed you didn’t simply explain, but I suppose there was no way for you to tell me privately. I wager even Gibbons did not know.”
Denis shook his head ever so slightly. “No one.”
Except Robbie, presumably, who stood by the window as usual.
“Very well, we will proceed from here,” I said. “Is there anything you can tell me about Pickett, or about Haywood, that will help me prove you did not commit murder?”
Denis frowned as he mused. “There was nothing in Haywood’s manner during his appointment to indicate he would murder a man to relieve his debt. He was desperate to have it erased, he told me, and I do not like dealing with desperate men. I told him to go away and let me think about a deed that would recompense me for the bother I’d gone to for him, and he went. When I sent for him the next day, he was delighted to work for my release.”
“Did he say anything to confirm your theory that he’d killed Pickett?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Denis’s frown deepened. “I could be entirely wrong about him—perhaps he believes I killed Pickett in order to give him the opportunity to aid me.”
“That will not help.” I drummed my fingertips on the table. “If neither of you killed the man, we are back to anyone in London being able to.”
