The Body at the Tower (30 page)

“Indeed,” nodded Anne. “We’ve confirmed a number of loans, all on extortionate terms, with one of the more notorious moneylenders in London.”

Mary nodded. “This arrangement might have worked. However, Wick – possibly prompted by Keenan – realized he could profit at both ends of this arrangement: he began to blackmail Harkness, threatening to expose his involvement with the scheme. It was a foolish idea: had Harkness called his bluff, Wick would only have put an end to his own illegal earnings. But for some reason, Harkness agreed to pay – possibly because the initial sum Wick demanded was manageable, and because his own debts seemed increasingly urgent. But as Wick’s demands got larger – by the end, Harkness was paying him ten pounds a week – Harkness became increasingly desperate. Keenan’s black-market income was no longer enough to justify paying off Wick, yet he couldn’t extricate himself without getting caught.

“Wick demanded a meeting with Harkness, after dark, in the belfry. It’s a sign of how deeply enmeshed Harkness felt that he agreed to meet Wick at all. But he did. That night, Wick proposed going to Mrs Harkness and forcing her to find the money. He also threatened to force her to have sexual relations with him, as a form of payment.”

“This is Harkness’s own account?” asked Felicity.

“Yes. Wick may have wanted only to frighten Harkness, but he went too far: Harkness was incensed, they fought, and, as everyone knows, Wick went over the edge. It’s still unclear whether he fell or was pushed.

“The week following Wick’s death, Harkness paid Keenan one final blackmail instalment. Their arrangement seems to have been for Keenan to take the money himself from Harkness’s desk; at least, I saw Keenan enter the site after hours last Monday night. But that week, the First Commissioner declared his intention to conduct a safety review of the building site. Harkness must have known, at that point, that he was caught. Any competent safety review would reveal the short cuts he’d taken, the low building standards he’d accepted, in order to set aside more raw materials for Keenan to steal. James Easton’s review also uncovered his highly dubious accounting practices.”

“James Easton again,” murmured Felicity. “What an interesting young man.”

Mary had no idea how to respond to this, except by ignoring it. “With his professional integrity and personal reputation destroyed, Harkness believed his only choice was suicide. He decided if possible to take Keenan with him. So he lured Keenan to the belfry for an after-hours meeting.

“Keenan seems to have been close to Wick, and Harkness taunted him with the details of Wick’s death. He successfully goaded Keenan into attacking him. And he might also have succeeded in dragging Keenan over the ledge with him, except that Mr Easton caught them – caught Keenan, at any rate, and dragged him back to safety.” Mary swallowed. She could still hear that scream echoing in her ears. “Keenan deliberately let go of Harkness.”

After an pause, Anne asked, “How did you and Mr Easton manage the arrest of Keenan? You can’t have had time to send for help.”

“That was a lucky accident,” said Mary slowly. “I ran into Jenkins on Sunday afternoon, after Reid went missing. I asked Jenkins to check whether Reid had disappeared of his own accord. He had: Reid paid for Jenkins’s lodgings, and on the evening he disappeared, settled with the landlord for the next two months. When Jenkins came to site, as I’d told him to, a couple of policemen patrolling the area saw a boy run into the building site after hours, gave chase, and ended up catching Keenan on his way down the tower stairs.”

“Quite ridiculously fortuitous,” smiled Felicity.

Mary smiled, for the first time since entering the Agency. “Mr Easton’s coachman was also on the scene and realized that things had become violent. He was ahead of Jenkins and the policemen by a storey or two, and I believe he was able to lend a hand.” She released a long, slow breath. “I think those are the most important points…” She was suddenly unspeakably weary. Her eyelids were leaden. Her muscles ached and burned. A thick patch of dry blood on her chin stretched and stung each time she spoke. And an angry red crease along her throat, like a noose, was a stinging reminder of those terrifying minutes she’d hung suspended from Keenan’s grip.

Anne nodded briskly. “There are a few loose ends, of course, but I expect we’ll be able to tie those up tomorrow before we meet with the Commissioner. By the by, his assessment of Harkness as ‘reliable’ couldn’t have been further off the mark.” She turned to Felicity. “D’you think the Commissioner was testing us?”

Felicity blinked, surprised at the question. “I – I wouldn’t have thought so.”

“Mmm.” Anne’s jaw took on an obstinate angle. “We’ll have to find out. There’s just too much we don’t know about him. About this case, overall.”

Felicity’s mouth was stubborn. “We’ll discuss this further, of course.” She turned back to Mary. “There’s just one more thing.”

Mary froze, half-way out of her chair. “Yes, Mrs Frame.”

“James Easton. What d’you intend to do about him?”

“I – I hadn’t – that is, I don’t yet know exactly what I’ll say.”

“But you intend to see him again.”

“I can’t just run away, or disappear.” The twin gazes of her employers seemed to bore through her. “I – I owe him a goodbye, at least.” She felt a painful, unexpected bump of disappointment as the words left her mouth. Was there another solution to their situation? Not likely. Not if she valued her work, indeed her life, here at the Agency.

“You’ll report to us the outcome of that interview.”

“Of course.”

Thirty-one

Wednesday, 13 July

Gordon Square, Bloomsbury

I
t was another sticky, soupy, stifling afternoon. The thunderstorm threatening the city all week had yet to materialize, and even by English standards, people talked about the weather a great deal at the moment. As her hansom cab turned into Gordon Square, Mary saw and felt the thick layer of straw coating the cobblestones, damping the sound of hooves along its length. The straw was laid down for invalids, to help them rest, and she hoped it wasn’t for James’s benefit. After all, he hadn’t been too ill to write her a note.

The patrician housekeeper opened the door and looked down the length of her nose at Mary. “Miss Quinn. Do come in.”

She was shown up to the drawing room where a stoutish, balding man greeted her with polite forbearance. “Miss Quinn. It’s been quite some time since we met.” The edge in his voice suggested, unmistakably, that it was a pity they were meeting now.

“Mr Easton,” she said politely. “How do you do.”

The younger Mr Easton reclined meekly on a sofa, draped to the chest in blankets. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I’d stand, but George would kill me.”

Mary smiled and murmured something polite. Apparently, all the formalities were to be observed today. She hadn’t been invited to remove her hat and gloves, so this meant a short call: fifteen minutes at most. It was for the best. A long, cosy visit would only prolong the pain of saying goodbye.

“Tea?” asked George.

“Thank you, no.”

“Yes, she will,” said James with sudden vigour. “And take off your hat, Mary – and George, do go away, there’s a good chaperon.”

George ruffled up, just like a rooster. “It’s for Miss Quinn’s own good, Jamie, and—”

“Oh, rubbish. Look at me on my sick-bed: I’m hardly capable of ravishing her. And don’t call me Jamie!”

After some spluttering, George retreated with the proviso that the drawing-room door remain open.

That accomplished, James offered Mary his most charming grin. “Come and sit beside me?”

She grinned. “You’re a horrendous brat.”

“George is a tyrant. The only way he’d agree to a visit was if I lay on this sofa while he supervised our conversation.”

She laid her gloves on a side table. “What’s so very urgent that it can’t wait until you’re well?”

“I wanted to see you.”

She flushed with pleasure. Swallowed regret.

“And I want all the news. George won’t tell me a thing, for fear of overexciting me.”

“Well…” It had been such a long, intense few days since the tragedy at St Stephen’s Tower. “Big Ben rang for the first time on Monday. It sounds quite good, although the quarter-bells aren’t going yet.”

He gave her a look. “Real news, if you please. I’m not your maiden aunt.”

She blushed hotly and said the first thing that came into her mind. “Keenan’s been charged with murder. Although I expect you know that, as witness for the prosecution.”

He nodded.

“They found Reid in Saffron Walden, newly married to Jane Wick. He and Keenan had agreed that if Reid left town with the Wick family and kept quiet, Keenan would leave them alone. I suppose that’s not possible, now – the Crown will certainly want him to give evidence.”

James nodded. “He ought to be all right. The evidence against Keenan is strong.”

“Reid’s worried about his own part in the thefts, obviously, but he should receive some clemency for those. He was very upset about the blackmail. That caused the initial friction between the three brickies: Reid maintaining that it was wrong, and Keenan and Wick pressing him to keep silent.”

“But profiting from stolen goods is all right?”

Mary wrinkled her nose. “There’s a large moral difference. And from Reid’s perspective, the thefts didn’t directly harm anybody. They represented only a small percentage of the site budget, yet seemed a small fortune in comparison with his wages. He also tried to justify the theft of the money by doing right with it: he supported an injured errand boy and his sisters, and subsidized the Wick family, too.

“We were right, you know, about the bruises he had on Monday: he and Wick had fought about Jane. She’d just told Reid she was pregnant again, and he was furious. Scolded Wick for ‘wearing her out with babies’, and said any decent man would leave her alone for a bit.”

James smiled. “You were right and I was wrong. I thought he was a drunken hothead, remember?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Admitting imperfections, now? You really are unwell.”

“I’m the most generous of souls.”

“Well, since you’re feigning generosity, I want to ask you about Jenkins – the lad who led the police to the tower.”

“What about him?”

“He’s clever. Poor. The eldest of several, both parents dead. I don’t suppose…”

James nodded. “Send him round to our offices. I’m sure George will find something for him to do until I’m back, though it may be only sharpening pencils.”

Mary grinned. “Count them first, mind. He’s used to skimming off the top.”

He snorted. “You do keep strange company.”

There was a pause. Mary fidgeted with her gloves. How to bring up the real question she wanted to ask him…? It seemed brutal, digging into matters that were so clearly sensitive ones. But she had to know – if only to understand how James might be feeling.

“What is it?”

There was no sense in hinting. Not with James. “What are the consequences for Easton Engineering, now that you know Harkness’s letter was forged?”

“You mean, did he topple our reputation alongside his?” He made a face. “You’d think so, but oddly enough, no. I’m still not certain how.” He paused. “Sometimes I think Harkness chose me because I’m young, and hoped I’d be malleable. Or perhaps he thought me inexperienced and unlikely to know good practice from bad. Or – good God, perhaps he really did want me to meet the First Commissioner, even in those circumstances. One last good deed, or something like that. I’ll never truly know. But the result is that I have indeed met the First Commissioner. Whether that will lead to anything, I couldn’t begin to predict.”

“And – you feel all right about that?”

“Of course not. I’ve played at politics now, dirtied my hands, and it went disastrously. I regret nearly every minute I spent on that accursed site.” His tone was so vehement that Mary recoiled. He caught her eye and half-smiled. “Except, of course, those I spent with you.” She made a sound of protest and he laughed. “It’s true, it’s true. It sounds trite, and pat, and appallingly clichéd, I know. But I mean it. Meeting you again is the one good thing to have come of the entire affair.”

Fear and something else – a wild sort of joy – warred within her. This was dangerous territory. If she didn’t speak soon, she never would. “I – there’s something I need to tell you.”

His gaze sharpened at the new guardedness in her tone. “What’s that?”

Twice, she opened her mouth to begin.

Twice, she closed it again.

Finally, she said simply, “Who do you think I am?”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, “When I first met you, I thought you were a rich man’s mistress. Then I learned you worked as a lady’s companion. Now you tell me you’re an aspiring journalist.” His tone was wary. “Why d’you ask? Are there further developments?”

“Not exactly. More like … past omissions.”

His expression was still, shuttered. “Go on.”

“I – I’m a criminal. A former thief.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. His eyes flashed to hers, wide and startled. “What?”

“When I was twelve, I was tried and found guilty of housebreaking.”

“That carries a death sentence.”

“Yes. I escaped.”

“But you’re still wanted. If you were caught now, they’d hang you.”

“Yes.”

“You must be living under an assumed name.”

“Yes.”

He stared at her for a long minute, a complex blend of emotions struggling in his eyes.

Disbelief.

Affection, still.

And – yes – revulsion.

Here, at last, was the answer she needed in order to go on her way.

Finally, he said in a low, gruff tone, “Why are you telling me all this?”

“I wanted you to know the truth.” The little jade pendant nestled against her collarbone was a constant reminder of her other truth. The one she could never tell anyone.

“But
why
?”

“Because…” And this was the hardest part – one of the most difficult things she’d said in years. “Because I didn’t want you to care for me – for someone – about whom you knew so little.” She paused. “You live by such clear, unambiguous principles. You condemned Harkness for stealing, when he should instead have reined in his family’s greed. You despise yourself for condescending to play politics with Harkness and the Commissioner. What I’ve just told you must change your feelings towards me.”