A Dangerous Liaison with Detective Lewis Mass market paperback - 2012

Summary

Excerpt

Chapter One

Fitzrovia, London, 1887

âÈêYouâÈçve got bollocks the size of St. PaulâÈçs dome to work this lane.âÈë

Raphael Lewis leaned against the lamppost and struck a match. âÈêKiss my arse, Flynn.âÈë He lit the posh kind of cigarette fancied by male prostitutes.

âÈêNah, not me, but one of the mollies wouldnâÈçt mind.âÈë Flynn Rhys stepped out of the shadows.

If there was a seamier side to working for Scotland Yard, this was it. Rafe blew out the match. âÈêBloody entrapment if you ask me.âÈë The stink of sulfur hung in the air. He and Flynn had taken up a post yards from 35 Cleveland Street, the most exclusive molly-house in town. There had been an embarrassing spate of blackmail of late, all of it involving men posted to high-level government work.

Their assignment was to apprehend a few top-level peers or Whitehall officials. Randy toffs with a taste for younger men. Simple enough. Arrest the molly chasers, toss them in the lockup, put a scare in them. Word would soon get out.

He opened a small paper sack, popped a butterscotch in his mouth, and passed the sweets over. âÈêCare for a taste, Mr. Rhys?âÈë

Flynn chewed on a toffee. âÈêDonâÈçt tempt me to bugger you, Mr. Lewis.âÈë

Rafe exhaled a trail of smoke into the night. The summer heat lingered in the tepid darkness. âÈêSpiffing job, by the way. You cuffed that last bloke smooth as silk.âÈë

A well-appointed carriage, a clarence, rounded the corner and slowed. âÈêShall we try for another?âÈë Flynn gave a wink and moved off into the alley known to familiars as Shag Row.

The driver pulled beyond the streetlamp and stopped. Rafe stuffed the sweets in his pocket, pushed off the post, and sauntered over. Some frequenters preferred a boff in the close confines of their coach. Rafe approached the door, catching a glimpse of a wraith in motion as Flynn quietly rounded the rear of the vehicle.

The carriage window slid open. âÈêSuch manly grace, is this strange flower for rent?âÈë

Rafe recognized his cue. âÈêWelcome to my arms, thou best of men.âÈë He squinted at the dark silhouette of a man wearing a bowler. The genteel nobs often used the homoerotic verse of the poets to identify one another.

A slow curve edged a generous mouthâÈ'all he could see of what appeared to be a handsome enough gent. The manâÈçs whispered breath smelled of good tobacco and aged whiskey. âÈêSuch prodigious beauty isâÈ'âÈë

Rafe tipped his chin to feign a smile while he racked his brain for a line of sonnet. âÈêâÈ'the very heart of vice and sweet sins. But not for free.âÈë

âÈêPay you two and eight, and not a farthing more.âÈë The gentlemen leaned into the light from the coach lantern.

Rafe placed an elbow on the open window. âÈêIf I had a beauty like yours at home, friend, IâÈçd let the wifey polish the knob.âÈë

âÈêGet in, Rafe.âÈë

He squeezed into the seat beside the number two Yard man himself, Chief Detective Inspector Zeno Kennedy. The man had recently made quite a name for himself, breaking up a dangerous ring of Fenian dynamiters.

The senior detective grinned. âÈêHow goes the sweep?âÈë

Rafe shrugged. âÈêCaught a very big fish.âÈë

âÈêHow big?âÈë

âÈêPrince EddyâÈçs friend. Had to cut him loose.âÈë

Zeno sucked air between his teeth. âÈêMelville will hear about that one. WhereâÈçs Flynn?âÈë

âÈêEvening, sir.âÈë His partner in trickery appeared at the door.

âÈêPop inside, then.âÈë Flynn climbed in and pulled down the folding seat. Zeno rapped on the roof and they lurched off.

Zeno shook his head. âÈêSo you two jollied up to Lord Somerset. Not bad for a couple of Night Jacks.âÈë

âÈêI prefer Agent Provocateur.âÈë Rafe studied Zeno. He understood the enigmatic Yard man better than anyone else with a desk at 4 Whitehall Place, with the possible exception of William Melville, director of Special Branch.

A shaft of pale gaslight illuminated ZenoâÈçs jawline, enough for Rafe to make out a twitch. Never one for small talk, Zeno got straight to it. âÈêQuite a grisly scene in the House of Commons. Tried to hold the press off.âÈë Kennedy handed over a folded news sheet. âÈêUnsuccessfully.âÈë

Rafe opened up the Manchester Guardian and squinted at the headline.

MURDERED MP FOUND IN COMMONS CHAMBER

He skimmed the article. âÈêOur victimâÈçs name is William Patterson Hudson. A caretaker found the poor bloke around teatime,âÈë he summarized. âÈêSeems the perpetrator placed the remains, neat as you please, on his regular bench in the House of Commons chamber.âÈë

âÈêIn broad daylight?âÈë Flynn snorted. âÈêBloody bold for a murderer.âÈë

Rafe dipped his head as the carriage turned onto Millbank. Westminster Palace loomed straight ahead. âÈêSo what do we know about Hudson personally?âÈë

Zeno grimaced. âÈêCursory at the moment. Made his fortune in banking and railway investments.âÈë The carriage slowed and the senior-ranked detective released the latch. Exiting the coach, he led them through the imposing limestone facade of the MembersâÈç Entrance of Parliament. âÈêHudson won his seat in government four years ago. ThereâÈçs a residence in town and an estate in Canterbury.âÈë

Inside the palace, Zeno ushered them past guards at the rubble arch and up the stairs to a bench seat in the third tier of the chamber. Lab technicians, some with magnifying glasses, combed the aisles for evidence.

Rafe scanned rows of green leather benches. Nothing but empty seats. âÈêWhereâÈçs the body?âÈë

Zeno stepped to one side so both detectives could get a good look. As a matter of course, corpses were an integral part of the job, but this one set both Rafe and Flynn back on their heels.

On a seat midway down the aisle, a disembodied head had been placed neatly atop two feet soaked in blood. The sight was at once comical and disturbing, as if the head grew directly out of a pair of fashionable, narrow-toed shoes.

Rafe swept his jacket back, placing his hands on his hips. âÈêNicely ghoulish.âÈë

Flynn nodded. âÈêAny idea who might want him done for?âÈë

Zeno shook his head. âÈêA man of his wealth and power is bound to have enemies.âÈë He settled onto a step just above Rafe and Flynn.

The lab man in charge held up an evidence case. âÈêAll right if we move the remains, Mr. Kennedy?âÈë

Zeno raised a brow and turned to Rafe and Flynn. âÈêSeen enough?âÈë

Rafe settled onto his haunches. âÈêLetâÈçs have a look at the cuts.âÈë The evidence collector lifted the bloodless head. Rafe removed a pencil stub from his inside pocket to pull back the gentlemanâÈçs hose. The wounds on both the ankles and the neck were clean, pressed together, as if they were done by a heavy blade or machinery. âÈêDo we know if Hudson was a large manâÈ'tall in stature?âÈë After receiving a shrug and a few blank looks, Rafe turned to the lab man. âÈêIs there some way to estimate the victimâÈçs height?âÈë

The technician placed the head into a plain sackcloth evidence bag, then unfolded a metal pocket ruler. He measured one of the shoes. âÈêTall, sir. My guess would be something over six feet.âÈë

Rafe nodded. âÈêAnd the gauge of the railway tracks in Kent?âÈë

Zeno stared at Rafe, a glint in his eye. âÈêDoes anyone here know railroad gauges?âÈë

Another lab assistant poked his head up from the aisle below. âÈêDifferent rail lines have different track gauges, no standard as yet, Mr. Kennedy.âÈë The young man took off his cap and scratched his head. âÈêSomething between four feet nine inches and a bit over five feet, if I remember right.âÈë

Rafe did not check the upward tug at the ends of his mouth. âÈêSo it would be possible to lay a tall man across a narrow-gauge track . . . train comes along . . .âÈë

âÈêOff with his head.âÈë Flynn flourished a macabre grin of his own. âÈêAnd feet.âÈë

Even ZenoâÈçs mouth twitched. âÈêIâÈçve conscripted our lab director into field service. HeâÈçs in Kent interviewing the dead manâÈçs family. I received a wire from Archie earlier this evening. It seems Hudson may have gone missing in the middle of the night.âÈë

Rafe leaned against a bench. âÈêAbducted from his bedchamber?âÈë

The chief inspector scanned the surroundings and exhaled. âÈêAppears so.âÈë His gaze landed on Flynn. âÈêArchieâÈçs a good man, but heâÈçs a scientist. He doesnâÈçt have your instincts. I need you to meet Archie in Canterbury.âÈë Zeno removed a packet from an inside breast pocket and passed it over to Flynn. âÈêThereâÈçs some per diem in there as well as contact information.

âÈêAnd take Alfred with you.âÈë Zeno nodded to the lumbering bloodhound snuffling along the aisle of bench seats below them. âÈêIâÈçd say a walk down the rails between HudsonâÈçs estate and Canterbury station should turn up the missing torso.âÈë

âÈêSaves a muck about the countryside.âÈë Rafe winked at his partner. âÈêAt least youâÈçre off Cleveland Street.âÈë

Zeno angled toward Rafe. âÈêYou donâÈçt enjoy trifling with the light-foot lads?âÈë

âÈêPoking about in a manâÈçs bedroom affairs?âÈë Rafe scoffed. âÈêNot much glory enforcing the Criminal Law Amendment Act.âÈë

Zeno offered a grunt of agreement. âÈêDamned blackmailerâÈçs charter is what it is.âÈë

They left the House of Parliament stringing the hound behind them. Zeno dropped Flynn and the Yard dog off at the detectiveâÈçs flat in Soho. âÈêI expect twice-daily reports, Mr. Rhys.âÈë

Rafe barely caught the tip of FlynnâÈçs cap as the carriage lurched off. âÈêWhere to now?âÈë he asked.

âÈêCharing Cross station.âÈë ZenoâÈçs gaze hardened. âÈêFlynn and I will work the case from here. YouâÈçre off to Edinburgh.âÈë

Edinburgh? Good God. Rafe squirmed uncomfortably at the thought. âÈêWorking a case in my home territory? WhoâÈ'?âÈë Call it a flash of intuition or insight, whatever it might be, but he thought he might know the reason why, and it sent a chill down his spine. âÈêAmbrose Greyville-Nugent.âÈë

âÈêYouâÈçre on your game tonight, Rafe.âÈë

Ambrose was arguably an important inventor and without a doubt the richest industrialist in all of Scotland. The man had made his fortune in steam-powered farm and mining equipment. Days ago, Rafe had been stunned to read of the prominent mogulâÈçs horrific accidental death. âÈêMy family became somewhat friendly with the Greyville-Nugents over the years.âÈë

Zeno lifted a brow. âÈêIs that so?âÈë

âÈêThe Greyville-Nugent property borders ours in Queensferry, West Lothian. I was just a lad when Ambrose purchased the neighboring estate.âÈë

âÈêDidnâÈçt you tell me you grew up in a castle?âÈë

Rafe grinned. âÈêNo more than fifty rooms. A croft cottage by English standards.âÈë

Absently, Kennedy scanned the passing street scene and nodded. Clearly distracted, his mind was on more pressing matters. âÈêOne can never be sure, this early in an investigation, but a pattern may be developing. Two captains of industry dead in less than a week. Rather peculiar.âÈë A ray of light passed through the cabin, enough for Rafe to notice the sunrise over a block of terrace homes. ZenoâÈçs mouth formed a thin, grim line. âÈêMelville doesnâÈçt believe in coincidence when it comes to murder.âÈë

Never one to disagree with the head of Scotland YardâÈçs Special Branch, Rafe swallowed. âÈêCanâÈçt say as I blame him.âÈë A painful knot formed in the pit of his belly. He didnâÈçt like where this assignment was headed. âÈêI take it you surmise Greyville-NugentâÈçs most unfortunate death by threshing machine was not accidental?âÈë

âÈêTaken together, these two murders may indicate a macabre scheme at work. One with a touch of grotesque witâÈ'some sort of mad poetic justice.âÈë Zeno leaned forward. âÈêGreyville-Nugent leaves behind an heiress, one who has made it publicly clear she intends to carry on her fatherâÈçs legacy. At this juncture, we are prepared to offer her protection.âÈë

âÈêFrancine Greyville-Nugent.âÈë Rafe grimaced. âÈêJust like Fanny to carry onâÈ'business as usual.âÈë

âÈêThe young lady is unaware of our conjecture as yet. Until we have an inkling as to what is going on here, Melville and I thought it best to send up an agent. Do a bit of poking about, see if you canâÈ'âÈë

âÈêYou realize I have a history with this girlâÈ'young lady?âÈë

ZenoâÈçs stare bored into him. âÈêWhat kind of history?âÈë

Rafe steeled himself. âÈêRather awkward, IâÈçm afraid.âÈë

ZenoâÈçs gaze narrowed further. âÈêHow awkward?âÈë

He glanced outside the carriage. The pale dawn illuminated a few shop-fronts as they traversed St. Giles Circus. Rafe shook his head. âÈêGoing to have to beg off on this one, Zeno.âÈë

âÈêI might have switched you with Flynn, but itâÈçs too late. I havenâÈçt another man to spare. YouâÈçre just going to have make the best of it.âÈë One side of ZenoâÈçs mouth twitched upward. âÈêCatch up with relatives and friends. For now, all that is required of you is to guard Miss Greyville-Nugent with your life.âÈë

Rafe slumped in his seat. Dear God, fraternize with old chums and relations. Friends who had long ago turned away and a family who nearly disowned him. In fact, he wasnâÈçt exactly sure who he was on speaking terms with anymore. Rafe tallied up the number of relations who would be overjoyed to see him in Edinburgh and counted one. Aunt Vertiline.

Sensing his trepidation, Zeno shoved a packet into his hands. Absently, Rafe untied the string and flipped through a number of large banknotes. He opened a folded message written in code. âÈêContact names and safe houses.âÈë

âÈêGreyville-NugentâÈçs funeral is set for this afternoon. I understand rail travel to Edinburgh is down to seven and a half hours. If there are no delays en route, you should be able to attend the wake.âÈë

âÈêHow delightful.âÈë Rafe frowned.

ZenoâÈçs jaw twitched. âÈêClosed casket if I understand right. The police report indicated Greyville-Nugent was up in a barn loft pitching sheaves into the feederâÈ'demonstration of some sortâÈ'took a misstep and fell headlong into the machine. Struck the cylinder running full speed. He was instantlyâÈ'âÈë Kennedy halted midsentence. âÈêYou all right?âÈë

Even in the dusky bleak light of early morning, he supposed he appeared a bit green around the gills. âÈêKnew the man since childhood is all.âÈë

Zeno hesitated before plunging on. âÈêHe was instantly drawn into the teeth of the cylinder. His head and the upper portion of his body were reduced to a shapeless mass of crushed bone and flesh.âÈë

Rafe recalled a large, gregarious sort of fellow with a heavy moustache and a ready smile. A decent enough man who had treated him as a son after the earl died. Ambrose had always been kind to him, until Rafe spurned his daughter. âÈêSo, you want me to keep an eye on the young heiress, as well as poke about the accident sceneâÈ'âÈë

The carriage slowed as they reached the train station and Rafe jumped out. KennedyâÈçs driver handed down a leather satchel. Zeno spoke from inside the carriage. âÈêHad your man Harland pack a bag. Rather a surly chap.âÈë

âÈêAh, you noticed.âÈë Rafe gripped the satchel. âÈêKeeps me in clean shirts and undergarments. I dare not ask for more.âÈë

The number two Yard man leaned forward to close the door. âÈêThese crimes, if they are indeed homicides, are rather like executions, wouldnâÈçt you say? Hate to think what kind of fiend might be out there, picking off wealthy industrialists.âÈë

Rafe studied his supervisor. âÈêFanny could very well find herself in grave danger,âÈë he said.

âÈêThe gravest.âÈë Kennedy rapped on the cabin roof.

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