The Arnifour Affair (21 page)

CHAPTER 30

M
orning roared in with great anticipation, as did Colin. By the time I managed to coax my eyes open he was already up and dressing at a furious pace.

“Are you planning on sleeping all day?” he teased. “There's much to be done. The
Ilya Petrovina
is due in shortly and we've got to get down to the docks to see if your suspicions about Michael have any basis. And I should also like to announce that by the end of this day we will have named the perpetrator in the Arnifour murders. However, first we must question our houseguest. I'm going to have Mrs. Behmoth awaken her. I simply cannot wait another minute.”

I roused myself as quickly as I could, loath to miss anything, all the while considering Colin's declaration that he was on the verge of solving the Arnifour murders. I hadn't the slightest notion how he intended to do so given the possibility of yet a more recent mistress in the picture. I couldn't even imagine how he meant to find her. If Li Shen didn't know who she was, and that seemed most likely, then we would be beholden to Warren Vandemier, and I didn't expect we'd get much help from him anymore.

I tidied up and dressed swiftly, and was about to go downstairs when I heard the distinctive thudding of Colin trudging back up. I suspected Mrs. Behmoth had routed him for disturbing our guest at so early an hour and had sent him back up to wait a little longer.

I made my way to the study and found him stirring a fire to life. He was well pulled together and as I settled into my armchair, anxious to ward off the remnants of sleep, I was grateful to have a few minutes to collect myself before having to confront Li Shen again.

“She isn't here,” he muttered as soon as I'd gotten settled.

“What?!”

“Li Shen is gone. Mrs. Behmoth found her bed empty.” He tossed the poker onto the hearth with a clatter and stalked to the stairway. “Can we please get some tea up here!” he bellowed.

“Don't you 'oller at me!” she hollered back. “It ain't me fault she's gone.”

Colin threw himself onto the sofa, a stern gaze clamped on the fireplace until Mrs. Behmoth finally made her appearance, the silver tray of tea and scones clamped in her hands.

“I spent 'alf the bleedin' night with 'er, ya know,” she groused as she banged the tray onto the table. “She was sick the 'ole time. Chuckin' and moanin' 'til the sunrise began pokin' in through the windas. I was fagged out. It ain't no wonder I never 'eard 'er stir.”

“I am
not
blaming you—”

“Like 'ell yer not.”

“All I want to know is if she said anything? Did she give any indication where she might have gone?”

“Wot? In between hackin' 'er guts out?” Mrs. Behmoth screwed her face up and spoke in a high-pitched voice,
“Pardon, mum, but as soon as I'm done 'ollowin' 'ere, I'll be 'eadin' off for a pint at the local pub.”

“Fine!” he snapped. “I get the point.”

“Poor little thing was sick as a cur.”

“Yes . . . I've got it.”

A loud rapping at the door was all that kept Mrs. Behmoth from responding, which, given the sourness of the expression on her face, I was grateful for. She disappeared back downstairs muttering under her breath, and I hoped it might be Li Shen, though I knew how unlikely that was.

Moments later Inspector Varcoe and one of his lackeys were standing on the landing outside our study. As I stared at the inspector's self-righteous gloat I couldn't help but wonder how a day so filled with promise just a few short minutes ago could have so swiftly turned bad, the evidence of it standing before us now.

Inexplicably Colin did not appear perturbed in the least. I supposed he'd been expecting this visit; it was bound to come, though it was unforgivably early.

“Aren't we just the picture of domestic ease this morning,” Inspector Varcoe sneered as he strolled in. “I would've brought your paper up but didn't want to rob you of the only
legal
recreation you're likely to have today.”

“I do wish we had a dog to fetch it. I'd love one of those bull terriers,” Colin said as he sat down in his usual chair and casually flipped out a crown, starting its inevitable route between his fingers.

“Well, you'd certainly have the time to train it.” The inspector snickered. “I hear you've been fired by Lady Arnifour.”

“Not fired,” I shot back. “We have been paid in full for services rendered.”

“Oh, I see.” He chuckled again. “But I'm not here to gloat, though it is a distinct pleasure; I'm here on official business. I need to know where the two of you were last night.”

“I'm quite sure you know exactly where we were.” Colin shifted his gaze to the uneasy-looking bobby still hovering in the doorway. “Would you care to sit down, young man? You needn't stand on formality here.”

“Stay where you are, Lachlan!” Varcoe snapped. “Why did you leave the scene of a crime, Pendragon?”

“Crime?” Colin tossed the coin onto the mantel as he reached over and picked up one of the dumbbells next to his chair and began methodically curling it with his left hand. “Are you implying that the fire in that club last night was deliberately set?”

“Piss off.”

“You might remember that you're in our home now,” I pointed out. “If anyone is going to piss off—”

“Now, now.” Colin smiled easily as he continued to pump the weight. “Perhaps if you outline your suspicions we can see if we know anything further.”

“I want some ruddy answers!”
he roared, his face morphing into the burgundy of a plum. “What were you doing there last night after Lady Arnifour
fired
you from the case?”

“It's an opium club,” I said without a hint of patience. “I'm sure you can extrapolate.”

“Bollocks! Don't lie to me.”

“He's telling the truth,” the young bobby spoke up. “It
is
an opium club.”

“I know what the bloody hell it is, you twit!”
he howled, forcing the young man to take an unconscious step backwards. “And I know that's
not
why you were there. You two may be a lot of things,” he leered, “but you're not blasted addicts. So what the hell were you doing there?”

“Idle curiosity?” Colin shrugged, switching the weight to his other hand.

“Bullshit! Warren Vandemier says you went there to harass his clientele and cause him physical and monetary harm.”

“Now, Inspector, Warren Vandemier
is
an addict. I'm sure you've figured that out by now—”

“That's enough, Pendragon. I will drag your ass down to the Yard if I have to, but you
will
answer my questions!”

“If you will just settle yourself a moment I think you'll find that I've answered every one of your questions thus far.”

“You've been dismissed from the Arnifour case, Pendragon, so I expect you to stand down from this business and let the
real
authorities settle things,” Varcoe snarled before he turned and stalked from the room.

When I heard the door slam a second time in as many minutes, it was a monumental relief. “What in the bloody hell was that about?” I asked as I leaned forward and poured us some tea. “Why did he come here?”

Colin turned back to the fireplace, but I could see that his eyes were unfocused. “I would venture we're getting nearer to the truth and someone with attachments to the authorities has sent our impressionable inspector to rile us. Someone cunning enough to use him without his being aware of it.” He rubbed his chin absently. “Actually, whoever it is wouldn't need to be
that
cunning.”

I laughed. “So who do you think sent him?”

His sapphire eyes drifted back to me as I handed him his tea. “There can only be three possibilities: Lady Arnifour, Warren Vandemier, or Abigail Roynton.”

CHAPTER 31

O
ur first stop was to visit Warren Vandemier in the hospital. We discovered that he'd broken his right femur, so if nothing else, he would prove to be a rapt audience. We found him in bed with a cast that went from his hip to the ankle of his right foot, the whole thing dangling from a sling bolted to the ceiling. Even so, he did not hesitate to make his repugnance clear the moment we strode onto the ward. “As if I'm not knackered enough already,” he groused.

Colin perched on the end of his bed next to Mr. Vandemier's plastered leg. “That's the thanks we get for saving your life?” he sighed.

There was much grumbling. “I see the two of you managed to escape without so much as a ruddy damn scratch.”

“We did.” Colin shrugged. “Survival of the fittest and all that, I suppose. But we're not here to compare wounds—only to ask a couple of questions.”

“I've had it with your bloody questions. I told you that last night.”

Colin appeared to ponder that before shaking his head. “No, I don't think you did. Perhaps you've suffered some head trauma as well—”

“Oh, just get on with it,” he seethed.

“I'd like to know something about the Earl's niece, Elsbeth. Did she ever threaten your club?”

“Elsbeth?!” He looked surprised. “Now why would she do that? She partook on more than one occasion. Had a row with Samuel over it too.”

“She tried opium?”

“Bloody well right, she did. But Samuel was a hypocrite. Perfectly happy to make a regular of anyone who walked in the door so long as they weren't related to him.”

“Were you aware of anyone threatening your business? Threatening to burn it down?”

“Just that stupid slag last night. Are you trying to blame the fire on somebody other than Li Shen? It's your fault, you know! You plied that dragon whore with opium. You're as guilty as she is.”

“Settle down or I'll see that you get a matching plaster on your other leg.”

“Are you threatening me?!”

“Not very well if you have to ask. Now I'm
not
talking about last night—”

“Well, you sure as hell
should
be!” he snapped. “Because my life was as good as
destroyed
last night.”

“This isn't about you.”

Colin smiled thinly as he leaned toward Mr. Vandemier. “I'm only going to ask this one more time—”

“I don't give a crap. Shove whatever twaddle you've got on your mind straight up your ass.”

Colin leaned back slowly, his eyes piercing Warren Vandemier's face. He eased himself off the bed, one side of his mouth rising lazily, before reaching out and yanking the sling cradling Mr. Vandemier's leg several feet. It took less than an instant before he let out a soulful scream, his eyes rolling up into his head.

“Now don't be crude.” Colin spoke softly. “Rudeness is redundant in a man like you.” He released the sling and let Mr. Vandemier's leg drop back to its original position with a jolt. A second screech followed as we left the ward, a trio of nurses making a dash toward the noise.

“That was a touch brutal,” I said once I'd caught up to Colin.

“He's just lucky those damn nurses heard him scream.”

“Well, did you at least learn something?”

“Not what I wanted to hear,” he muttered, heading off down the street.

“So where does that leave us?”

“In the middle of London,” he answered with great exasperation as he stepped into the street to flag a passing cab.

I bit my lip as I climbed aboard and Colin instructed the man to take us to the docks. It was time to see how the reunion of Michael and Angelyne would play out. I hoped it would be heartwarming, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was asunder.

Colin climbed in next to me, turning and staring out the window as we got under way. It was clear there was much on his mind, so I determined the best thing I could do was leave him in peace and set my gaze on the passing scenery as well.

 

Upon arriving, I glanced around the small crowd milling about the wharf to see if I could spot Michael before he could catch sight of us. Even though the
Ilya Petrovina
was making an unannounced call, there were dozens of people to greet her, not the least of whom were the policemen and Yardies who'd been sent by the Foreign Ministry Office to inquire about the alleged stowaways. I started to move off, keeping well away from the crowd, certain that Michael would also want to keep his distance from the authorities lest they decide to stop his sister from returning to his care. “Now don't get ahead of me,” Colin warned as I crossed perpendicularly from where the people were milling.

“I'm looking for Michael . . . ,” I answered vaguely.

“I know what you're doing,” he said. “We'll scout the scene before we make our presence known, but not every East End boy is as deceitful as you obviously were,” he teased.

“I was not deceitful,” I protested as we moved off in the opposite direction from where the
Ilya Petrovina
was set to berth. “I was clever.”

“You were a drug-addled hellion.”

I considered taking offense, but as I followed him behind a maze of crates and boxes littering the docks I decided now wasn't the time for it. Besides, I'd been called worse things.

As the great, hulking steamship was carefully maneuvered by a pair of rusting tugs, we took an opposing, perpendicular track until we'd reached some distance from where the front of the ship would eventually lie, well concealed among a throng of languishing cargo. “Feeling shy, are we?”

“We're going to sit here and see if your suspicions have any merit. It's my show of faith in you.”

“I'm touched.”

He chuckled as he settled in on a pile of boxes, peeking through a slot between a row of crates down to where the ship was docking. I turned my attention to her as she was tied up at her berth and a couple of men muscled her gangplank into position. A handful of sailors were the first to disembark, followed by a short, round, bearded man wearing a disheveled-looking Russian uniform. He went directly to the bobbies clustered at one side of the gangway.

“Must be the captain.”

“He doesn't look much like a captain,” I said.

“It's a cargo vessel, not a passenger ship. That chap has little need for epaulets, uniform whites, or reflective shoes. He'd have a hell of a time trying to convince any seasoned crew to follow him with that kind of artifice. His crew is far more akin to pirates than our naval lads. Need I remind you why we're here?”

I gave him a pointed look before answering, “He looks exactly like the kind of scoundrel who'd kidnap girls for sale.”

“I have to agree. I'd say they were put aboard his vessel with both his knowledge and a sizeable payment, probably half at embarkation and half upon delivery. He won't be happy about missing that second bit. And his cargo delivery is going to be woefully late as well.” He grinned. “This episode will end up costing him quite a sum.”

“You think they'll arrest him?”

He shook his head and sighed. “For what? For being a selfless humanitarian who, at great personal expense, turned his ship around the moment he discovered those deceitful young girls stowed away?”

“You cannot be serious. . . .”

“Proof can be a pitiful burden,” he muttered, and I noticed his brow suddenly furrow. “And look at this. Here comes our young charge now.”

I turned and caught a glimpse of Michael heading around behind the small crowd gathered at the gangplank. He was moving slowly, not with the kind of enthusiasm that would be expected, seeming almost reticent, and it made me wonder if there'd been bad blood between him and his sister.

My curiosity was further piqued when he continued to saunter past the waiting queue of people, moving resolutely toward the front of the ship, not far from where we were concealed. Yet, given the number of police milling about, I determined that his hesitation in standing among them made sense, since there was a better than average chance that at least one of the bobbies had run into him at some point in his doggedness to provide for him and his sister by whatever means necessary. I began to feel foolish for not having had some modicum of faith in the boy, but felt better when Colin said, “I'd say the men in blue are keeping our boy from emptying any pockets.”

I started to chuckle when a sudden commotion at the gangplank seized my attention. A tall, clearly overwrought woman in a massive sun hat was howling at the police even as the group of stowaway girls—the scrawniest, scruffiest-looking assemblage I had ever seen—made their first appearance at its top.

“What do you suppose she's going on about?” I asked as the woman flailed her arms wildly.

“One of those girls is probably her ill-used niece or ward and she's causing a great fuss in order to deflect the mountain of questions that are bound to come the moment she moves in to claim her. A show of outrage is much more likely to get her what she wants than not.”

“So cynical.”

He shrugged, his brow stitching itself again as I glanced over and saw Michael. He had managed to skirt the agitated knot of people congregated at the gangway, but was now standing almost directly across from us at the ship's bow. I watched as he slunk around the ship's moorings as though he knew something no one else did, and after a couple of minutes discovered that, in fact, he did.

The movement on the ship was minuscule, hardly noticeable until the first frail leg, smudged with dirt and filth, popped out and took hold of the forward anchor rope. The second leg quickly followed, allowing me to make out the figure of a young girl as she began to slither down the tether with unmistakable expertise. She was no more than a waif really, much less significant than a girl of almost thirteen should be. Her body was rail thin and she had limp, stringy hair dangling about her shoulders. I knew it was Angelyne, because even as she lowered herself to the dock, Michael never took his eyes from her.

“So you were right,” Colin muttered.

“Well, I didn't think she was going to shimmy down the rope like vermin, but it would seem given her proficiency that she might have done this before.”

“To be sure. She handles that rope like a gymnast. No wonder he told us not to come. It's a scam. Only this time something obviously went wrong. And will you look at this. . . .” He gestured to Angelyne as she jumped free only to be swiftly seized by her brother. “Their happy reunion would seem to be little more than rebuke for having fouled things up. That little shit dragged us into this to make sure he'd get her back, always feeding us just enough information.” He abruptly turned and glared at me. “You should've been more insistent.”

“What?!” I nearly laughed in his face, but he grabbed me and propelled me farther back into the maze of cartons.

“The little tykes seem to be coming our way,” he groused.

I peeked around the crates and saw that the two of them were indeed heading to almost the exact spot we'd been hiding, moving with great purpose. Michael had a firm grip on Angelyne's skinny arm, and though I could not hear them yet, it was clear they were in the midst of a row.

“Not a word,” Colin warned needlessly. “Let us allow them to spill their conniving hearts.”

As soon as they'd reached the relative safety of the first row of crates, Michael wheeled around on his sister with unbridled ferocity. “. . . Bleedin' idiot . . . what in 'ell were ya thinkin'?!”

“Piss off,” came the reply.

“Piss off? Piss off, eh?! Is that what ya woulda told them bloody Cossack bastards when they was tryin' to bugger ya?”

“I ain't without means.”

Michael slapped her hard in an attack that would have sent her to the ground had he not still been holding her arm. “Yer jest a stupid pup. You ain't gonna be worth nothin' soon anyway. But if ya ever pull a ruddy stunt like that again—”

“Where are ya, ya blasted, sawed-off, half-breed little shite,” a familiar female voice abruptly cut through Michael's diatribe, causing him and Angelyne to jerk around. “Yer damn lucky yer brother and I didn't leave ya on that blasted ship!” Mademoiselle Rendell continued to bellow as she stepped across my eye-line clutching an oversized sun hat.

“I thought that was her.” Colin gave a crooked grin.

“You knew that was Mademoiselle Rendell causing that fuss?”

“I suspected
she
was involved. She was too willing to give up her Bulgarian attaché to make sure we got the information we needed to get that ship turned around. But I didn't realize about the little one.”

“The little one?” I flicked my eyes back to the three of them. “Angelyne? What about her?”

He smirked, one eyebrow arching high. “Haven't you figured it out?” I looked from the scrawny girl to Colin and back again, without a single thought entering my vacant brain. “Angelyne is a boy,” he finally said. “See the budding Adam's apple? It's a shell game. They sell him as a prepubescent girl with the intention that he'll sneak off the ship just as it's on the verge of leaving—before their deception is discovered. That's how it's
supposed
to work. They knew where he was the whole time. They just needed us to figure it out so we could get that ship to come back. They'd lost their golden goose. And they almost got away with it had you not been so suspicious.” He grinned as he squeezed my arm and coaxed me forward. “But now it's time we put an end to this.”