She smiled as if she appreciated Michael’s reassurance. “He often does. The man is seriousabout his position. He dreams about numbers. However, he usually warns me when he won’t be home at his normal hour.”
“Please tell him I called,” Michael said.
“Is there a message I may give him?”
Ferrell would not appreciate Michael sharing his warning with the wife. Nor did he trust that if he wrote it, she would not read it. Dara was a constant reminder to never underestimate a woman.
No, it would be best to see if Ferrell was at his desk at Whitehall. It would be a short trip down the road.
“I shall call upon him tomorrow,” Michael said to her. “Good evening to you, Mrs. Ferrell.”
“Good evening, sir.”
Michael turned away, drawing Dara with him. Mrs. Ferrell closed the door.
He walked Dara to the vehicle. “We are going to find Mr. Ferrell, correct?” she said. She didn’t wait for his answer. “His wife was lovely, and very worried. We need to help her.”
“Ineed to help her,” he replied pointedly.
She gave him a look as if he was delusional, then said, “It is too late for anyone to be working. I’m worried.”
“Agreed.” Michael put her in the hack. “Whitehall,” he told the driver, and instructed him to follow the route one might walk between Ferrell’s residence and his office. “Go slowly,” he ordered. Perhaps they would see Ferrell on his way home.
However, that was not to be. Their way took them by a group of people gathered at the entrance to an alleyway. One of them was the watch, and Michael had a bad premonition.
He leaned out to shout to the driver. “Stop!” He looked to Dara. “Definitelystay here.” He ignored the face she pulled and hopped out.
Walking up to the watchman, Michael asked, “What has happened?”
“This gentleman found a body in the alley,” he answered. He nodded to another gent who was standing off to the side, his expression grim as if he had found himself involved in something he wished not to be.
“A man’s body?”
“Aye,” the watch said.
“Have you identified him?”
“We have not, sir.”
“May I see? Michael Brogan, MP.”
The introduction helped. The watchman nodded respectfully and led him a few paces into the narrow opening between the buildings. There was Ferrell, sitting against the wall, his legs at an awkward angle. His clothing was dripping with blood from knife wounds all over his chest.
“I know him,” Michael answered. “His name is Thomas Ferrell. I will have someone come for him.”
“Thank you, sir. It is a shame to see this. We usually don’t have murder down here.”
“You will wait until my people can fetch him?”
The watch nodded. “I’ve sent for the Runners. They should be here shortly.” That was good. Michael had connections with Bow Street. He gave the watch a few coins for his trouble and returned to the hack.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” Dara asked.
“Yes.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Two men in one night. What is happening?”
Michael didn’t answer. He had the same question himself. “We need to tell his wife.”
