The others around the table snickered, but her father didn’t crack a smile. “Because you were running in here so fast, I thought you were coming in to warn us of a fire somewhere in the house.”
She rolled her eyes and walked to her chair. The men stood, and Mr. Banks pulled out the chair for her. As soon as she sat, her father motioned for the servants to start bringing in their meal. When the servants finally left and closed the doors, her father cleared his throat, unfolded a linen cloth, and laid it on his lap.
“Let us discuss what we discovered today.” He switched his gaze between Gordon and Nicole. “Did you find out anything during your railway ride?”
“Not one thing, Father,” Gordon answered.
Nicole was grateful for her brother speaking because she was too busy stuffing her mouth with food. She didn’t feel the need to respond, anyway. Her answers would be the same as her sibling’s.
Her father glanced at Mr. Banks. “Did you find anything?”
He shook his head and rested his arms on his rotund belly. “I checked with the police about how much money had been taken. Apparently, all of it had been taken. In each robbery, there were close to one-thousand pounds. The money was kept in an unmarked metal box. The box itself was not flashy or stood out in any way, so why would anyone want to take it—or did the thief already know it was there?” He scratched his balding head. “The more I learn about this, the more I think that we are dealing with someone who is working from the inside. Robberies this planned out are rare. We are definitely dealing with an expert.”
“Forgive me, but that doesn’t make much sense,” Nicole said as all eyes turned on her. “How would someone working for the railway service know what was in these metal boxes? Did someone working for the queen tell them that money was being transported?”
Mr. Banks shrugged. “That, Miss Bastian, is an excellent question, and I hope we discover the answer soon.”
“What have you concluded,” her father said, aiming his focus on Mr. Banks.
“That the thief is either working for the queen, or for the railway.”
Her father tapped his finger to his chin. “I’m thinking that as well. When I was at their main office asking questions this morning, one of the co-owners was suspiciously absent. Apparently, he had been there, but nobody knew where he was or when he would return. The man I spoke with said that although they knew about the robberies, none of the three co-owners have any idea to what is going on.”
“That is strange,” Gordon mentioned before taking a bite of his potatoes.
“How so?” Nicole asked, watching her brother closely.
“Because one would think the co-owners would know more than they are indicating. If it was my business being attacked, I would want to know more.”
“Indeed.” Banks nodded.
“Mrs. Phelps?” her father asked, looking at the older woman. “What did you discover?”
She took a sip of her red wine and swallowed. “Because I have a friend who works at one of Liverpool’s main banks, I had him check to see if any of the three owners of the railway have recently acquired large sums of money in their accounts lately. It appears that Mr. Ashton Lee is the only one who has had a great deal of money deposited into his account within the last two months.”
Nicole’s stomach twisted, and the food on her plate suddenly became unappetizing. The roasted duck still in her mouth lost all of its taste, and she had no desire to take another bite.
No, not Ashton. But she did recall him mentioning the night of the ball that he had purchased a home in Meols. So, if he had money to buy things like that, why didn’t his partners have that money as well? Or if they did, were they hiding it from him?
“Did you check the accounts of the other two owners?” Nicole quickly asked.
Mrs. Phelps gave her a nod. “Of course. This is why Mr. Lee’s account looked abnormal—because he had more money than Mr. Larson and Mr. Nickerson.”
Nicole shook her head slowly at first, but faster the more she thought about all of this. “No, something must be wrong. Mr. Lee cannot be making more money than the others. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Nicole,” her father said in his parental tone that set her on edge.
Inwardly, she cringed. She should have known keeping secrets from him was useless. The man had always been able to read her well. After all, he was one of the best detectives in the world.
“Yes, Father?” She sneaked a peek at him. Gone was his detective character, and in its place was her judgmental—but caring—father.
He patted the linen napkin on his mouth. “Do you know Mr. Ashton Lee, by chance?”
She swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat. “Yes, I have met him.”
He had started to lower his hand back to the table, but it stilled in mid-air. “Where, may I ask?”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “A week ago, at the masked ball, I attended at Lord Reynold’s estate.”
