He didn’t care for using Lady Antonia’s connection to Lily, but he knew she would have no objection had he told her of it beforehand, and her influences had a far reach.
“She is most concerned.” Not an outright lie, as far as it went. He moved the conversation along. “There is a description of a man seen nearby the night the whore was murdered.” He provided the description to Campbell.
“And if one of my people knows of this man?”
There was always a bargain to be made.
“If ye have information about the man, as payment, I will consider placing an additional ten cases of whisky in yer shipment that the tax man doesna know of.”
Campbell laughed. “Her ladyship is fortunate to have one such as yerself to handle her business,” he replied. “I would have such loyalty from those I employ. My offer to ye still stands.”
Lucrative employment to manage his business affairs, such as they were. It was not the first time the offer was made.
There was a saying he’d heard once from his friend, Angus Brodie. About honour among thieves.
Campbell was a thief. He had no honour with his business enterprises or with those who worked for him, including the women. He would steal from a blind man.
While Munro's honour might be questionable from time to time, he didn’t disrespect a woman or question her reasons working the oldest trade. He’d seen too much poverty and respected anyone who learned to survive.
Now he waited, while Campbell considered his offer, even though he already knew the answer.
“Done,” the man replied. “I will put the word out to my people. One such as you’ve described will not go unnoticed.
“Will ye stay now and have a drink? Ye should know that ye are the one person I would make such an offer to, particularly with such a fine whisky. And ye can tell me about yer ‘friend’ who would care so much about a murdered whore.”
He would tell him nothing about Lily. However, he accepted a dram of Her Ladyship’s Old Lodge whisky to seal the bargain.
He trusted two things in that room—himself and that verra fine liquid gold. He accepted the dram of Old Lodge, then shook his head at the offer of another.
One was sufficient to seal a bargain, two or more could be dangerous with a man like Campbell.
It was late in the day, and he wanted to get back to McQuarrie’s office. Perhaps the chit had learned something that might provide a clue into her friend’s death. If so, they would turn the matter over to Inspector Landry and return to London.
But when he arrived at Parliament Square the clerk at Sir McQuarrie’s office had not seen her.
Munro cursed. Stubborn, that she was. As well as strong-willed. He cursed himself as he found a driver and gave him the address. He should never have left her on her own. She was like a child that way, determined to go her own way and could get herself into all sorts of mischief.
He smiled in spite of himself, as he thought of her adventures across London in the motor carriage, escapades that reminded him too well of her Ladyship. If he didna know better, he would swear she was of the same blood.
Albany Street was north of Old Town. The trip was quickly made in spite of the weather and the climb of the hill from Princes Street. A light glowed from the second-story flat.
He paid the driver, took the steps, two at a time, then the stairs to the second floor as well.
The inspector’s sister met him at the door.
“Glad I am to see you, Mr. Munro,” she said as if they were long acquainted, then stepped back from the door.
“Miss Montgomery?” he inquired as he swept the cap from his head.
She nodded. “Aye,” and stood aside for him to follow her.
He swore again when he saw Lily.
“She was exhausted, poor thing, when she returned. I tried to get her to the bedroom, but she made it no farther. I covered her with a blanket.” She hesitated, twisting her hands together.
“Something happened, but she would not speak of it.”
He crossed the parlour, then went down beside the settee. He brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek and cursed all over again at the bruise he found there.
