The Westminster Poisoner (43 page)

‘Has anyone asked you about Jones’s death?’ Chaloner asked the surgeon, wanting to think about something else. ‘Or about the
gold we found?’

‘No. I have been listening out for rumours relating to his hoard, but there has not been so much as a whisper. It is all very
mysterious.’

‘His gold must have come from the thefts he committed, which explains why he chose to carry it on his person. After all, he
could hardly invest it with Backwell’s Bank – they are its rightful owners!’

‘I do not believe the tale that has Jones responsible for what happened at Backwell’s,’ began Wiseman dismissively. ‘It is—’
But then he stopped speaking abruptly. His jaw dropped, and he looked staggered. ‘Jones and I discussed that particular incident.
He … Oh, Lord! Now it makes sense!’

‘What makes sense?’

‘He said Backwell’s had only themselves to blame, because they had not locked up their wares properly before closing shop
for the night. I asked him how he knew, and he winked at me.’

It was not far from the charnel house to the building the Leas had inherited from their murdered kinsman Chetwynd. When Chaloner
arrived, he found the surviving brother being visited by Gold and Bess. Gold was doing his best to comfort the bereaved man,
but Bess was standing in the window, happily waving at people who passed by outside. She wore a new hat – a red creation,
with even more feathers in it than the one that had been damaged the previous day. She waved to Neale, who immediately decided
that
he
should come in and console Lea, too.

‘I will kill him!’ Lea wept, while Gold patted his hand. ‘Whoever pushed Matthias in the river is a dead man. I will hunt
him down and strangle him with my bare hands. How could he?’

‘
Pushed
him in the river?’ echoed Neale. He did not look so cherubic that morning, with bloodshot eyes, a pale complexion and a trail
of dried vomit down the front of his coat.

‘Yes, pushed,’ howled Lea. ‘Matthias would never have gone near the Thames on his own, so some vile beast led him there and
murdered him. It is someone here!’

‘You mean one of us?’ asked Neale, gazing around the room in confusion. Gold cocked his head, straining to hear. ‘Bess, Gold,
the Lord Chancellor’s man or me?’

‘I mean someone at White Hall or Westminster.’ Tears gushed down Lea’s face. ‘There is slaughter everywhere
these days. It is like a disease.’ The last part was de livered in a shriek that hurt the ears.

‘White Hall is full of disease,’ agreed Gold, entering the conversation with some relief. He had not liked being excluded.
‘It is being spread by Lady Muskerry, apparently. Wiseman says she has an advanced case of the pox, so I stopped sleeping
with her immediately.’

Chaloner blinked, but his astonishment was not nearly as great as that of Bess. She gaped at her husband, and her eyes were
suddenly full of flashing emotion. It was the first expression approaching intelligence the spy had ever seen in her, and
the transformation was chilling. It was quickly masked, though, and the ovine blankness came down like a steel trap. He recalled
Hawley’s theory – that Reeve the corn-chandler might be a woman.
Could
Bess be a contender?

‘Well,’ drawled Neale, smirking at her. ‘This puts a different complexion on matters, does it not?’

‘Do you know anyone who wanted to harm Matthias?’ asked Chaloner of Lea, interrupting before the conversation could range
too far along that road.

‘Doling and Symons were always jealous that we kept our jobs while they lost theirs,’ wailed Lea. ‘Doling went around telling
people that we were corrupt, although we never left any evidence of …’ He stopped when he realised what he was saying.

‘Matthias was not abrupt,’ said Gold kindly. ‘He was very patient, especially with old ladies.’

Lea began to sob at the compassion in his voice, and Chaloner saw he was going to have no sense from the man while he was
distraught – or when Gold was there to lead the discussion astray. He took his leave when Bess asked her husband whether Lady
Muskerry snored. Gold
did not hear, but Neale’s expression was predatory, and Chaloner suspected the young man would have her between the sheets
before the day was out. He wondered whether it would be before or after the soirée Gold had planned for that evening.

His mind was full of questions as he headed towards White Hall. It was not so full that he failed to notice Williamson bearing
down on him, however. This time, though, there was nowhere to hide, and he was not inclined to run. He braced himself as the
Spymaster came closer, not liking the dangerous expression on his face. Williamson raised his hands to show he was unarmed.

‘Do not confuse me with the rough villains with whom you usually consort,’ he said coldly, while Chaloner thought he would
never insult a rough villain by mistaking him for Williamson. ‘Have you done as I ordered, and located Swaddell?’

‘He was at John’s Coffee House last week, in disguise and infiltrating one of the meetings you told me about. I suggested
he make contact with you, although it looks as though he has not bothered.’

Williamson stepped back, startled. ‘He is alive? I was certain you had murdered him.’

‘Why would I do that? I barely know him.’

Williamson sneered. ‘Because you think it will damage me, and we are not exactly friends. Incidentally, I hear Turner has
proved Greene is the clerk-killer. What will you do now? Your Earl will not keep you on his payroll when Turner is your superior
in every way.’

‘Not every way,’ said Chaloner, recalling the colonel’s pitiful performance when threatened with the Lord of Misrule and his
mob. ‘Have you found the King’s statue yet?’

‘No, but I will provide him with what he wants, even if it means sending to Bernini for a replacement. How much do you think
it will cost?’

‘The last one was exchanged for a diamond ring worth a thousand pounds. But I understand Bernini prefers rubies. Do you happen
to have one?’

Williamson regarded him oddly. ‘I shall rummage in my jewellery box, and see what I can find.’

Chaloner was still pondering what he might have meant by the enigmatic reply – if anything – when he met Turner, swaggering
along King Street as if he owned it. Women called greetings to him as they passed, and he acknowledged every one of them by
name. The lowest street-trader was treated to the same merry charm as the highest duchess, and Chaloner realised that Turner
was just a man who adored women. Age, shape and economic status was immaterial to him, and only the toothless could expect
to be shunned.

Turner grinned as he approached the spy, brandishing something provocatively. It was a locket. ‘You owe me ten shillings!
You said I could not persuade Belle to part with it, yet here it is.’

‘You also said I was free to ask her whether she had handed it to you willingly.’

Turner looked hurt. ‘You think I would try to cheat you?’

Chaloner smiled. ‘I am sure of it.’

Turner laughed. ‘Belle will tell you the truth. Give me the ten shillings – unless you think me such a liar that you do not
trust my word?’

Chaloner supposed Turner was unlikely to fabricate tales knowing they were likely to be verified. He handed
over the coins. ‘I hear you have gathered enough evidence to arrest Greene.’

Turner’s jovial expression faded, and he began to count facts on his fingers. ‘He begged brandywine on the nights Chetwynd
and Vine were murdered. He was actually found with one victim, and I am unconvinced by his tale of borrowing ink. He had a
secret life in that he was an errand-boy for Lady Castlemaine – and God alone knows what she asked him to do. And if all that
is not enough, I have learned that he argued with Matthias Lea, just hours before the fellow was found dead.’

‘He was seen? By whom?’

‘By His Portliness. Bulteel was with him, so it is not a figment of the old goat’s imagination.’

‘Do
you
think Greene killed Matthias?’

‘Matthias was not poisoned, as far as I know, but perhaps the river was to hand, so Greene just pushed him in. However, I
am still uncomfortable with the whole business – I do not like the notion that my evidence will send a man to the gallows,
whether he is guilty or not. It sounds womanish, but there is something about hanging that turns my stomach. You probably
do not understand.’

Chaloner understood only too well, because he felt the same way about prisons, and did not know what he would do if his spying
ever saw him incarcerated again. ‘I thought Greene was dead – that the drowned clerk was him, not Matthias. He has been missing
for the right amount of time.’

‘Of course he has,’ said Turner bitterly. ‘He killed Matthias, then decided he had better flee before the Earl decided he
has stayed his hand long enough. Perhaps we should have put him behind bars when His Portliness
first suggested it. Then Vine, Langston and Matthias would still be alive.’

Chaloner was finally beginning to accept that he might be right.

The atmosphere was strained when Chaloner arrived at the Earl’s offices. Bulteel was working in his antechamber, and had pinned
a notice on his door saying dogs were not welcome. Haddon was sitting in the hallway, writing out a list of guests for the
Earl’s next soirée. There was no sign of his pets, and although Chaloner did not ask, he was told they were at home, recovering.
Haddon shot a reproachful glare in the secretary’s direction as he spoke, which Bulteel pointedly ignored. Before he could
be drawn into the spat, Chaloner knocked on the Earl’s door and entered his domain.

‘I saw Greene bickering viciously with Matthias just hours before his body was found in the river,’ said the Earl when he
saw his spy. ‘And now Greene is nowhere to be found. Of course, you and Turner have discovered some very nasty truths about
his victims – they were not the good men they would have us believe.’

Chaloner nodded. ‘Chetwynd, Vine and Langston were not the only ones with dubious secrets, either – the Lea brothers probably
acted as scribes, producing copies of Langston’s indecent plays.’

‘Really?’ The Earl’s voice dripped disapproval. ‘I did not know that. My objection to Matthias lies in another direction.
He said he was loyal to the new government when we reappointed him at the Restoration, and swore all manner of oaths to
“prove” it. But he was a liar.’

‘You mean he was a traitor, plotting rebellion?’ It did
not seem very likely – treachery took hard work and sacrifice, and the Leas were far too selfish for either.

‘Williamson has learned that they accepted large sums of money to write seditious pamphlets. I am sure they do not applaud
the sentiments themselves – they are too worldly to hold with anything that might be construed as principle – but they accepted
money for their literary talents. Such as they are. Still, at least Matthias did not pretend to be saintly, like the other
three.’

‘There is a witness who believes Greene stole brandy-wine on the night Matthias died,’ said Chaloner tiredly. ‘Just as he
did on the nights Chetwynd, Vine and Langston were poisoned. You were right all along.’

‘And yet I still detect a note of hesitation,’ said the Earl curiously. ‘Why? Is it because you cannot believe you might have
made a mistake? I had not taken you for that sort of fellow. You are stubborn, but I did not think you were a sulker.’

The truth was that Chaloner could not rid himself of the nagging notion that someone was framing Greene. But trying to explain
his concerns would be a waste of time, so he handed the Earl the ring he had found. His master had a good eye for jewellery,
and might well have noticed Greene – or someone else – wearing it. ‘Have you seen this before?’

‘No, but it is a woman’s ring – it would be too small for a man. Why? Is it something to do with the murders? Or a clue in
the mystery of the missing statue?’

‘I am not sure.’ Chaloner passed him the documents. ‘I also found these hidden in Greene’s house. They mean nothing to me,
but you may understand their significance.’

The Earl’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the damage
they had suffered during the encounter with the train-band: Payne’s sword had punched a hole almost all the way through them.
‘I shall not ask what you did to acquire these – what I do not know cannot plague my conscience. I will review them later,
after I have seen the King about this visit of the French ambassador. What will you do now?’

‘Try to find Greene.’

‘You will be wasting your time: he will be in Holland by now. So, you had better concentrate on locating the statue, because
I meant what I said – you only have until tomorrow to prove yourself.’

Haddon had gone when Chaloner left the Earl, so the spy took the opportunity to speak to Bulteel alone. Hannah and Temperance
had told him to refuse the invitation to be godfather, while the Earl had recommended that he accept. He wished he had asked
Thurloe, the one person whose opinion he truly respected. But Thurloe was gone, so he would have to make up his own mind.
Bulteel’s face fell when Chaloner told him of his decision.

‘So, I have no idea how to find the King’s statue,’ the spy concluded tiredly. ‘The Earl will dismiss me, and your son deserves
someone who at least has a job. I am sorry.’

‘You are giving up?’ demanded Bulteel. ‘Why? You still have twenty-four hours left, and you are not a man to be deterred by
insurmountable odds. And do not forget Jones’s gold, either. Retrieving that for Backwell’s Bank must count for something
– they may give you a reward, and you can share it with the Earl. He likes money.’

‘Bribery?’ asked Chaloner mildly. ‘I thought you were above that.’

‘I am above it – I was thinking it was something you could do. I refuse to see Turner win this race when he has done nothing
to deserve it. Besides, there are a lot
of questions raised by saying Greene is the killer – such as the fact that he had alibis for Vine and Langston. And why would
he run away now? It makes no sense.’

‘Because he killed Matthias, and knew it was one victim too many.’