The Missing Partner (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 2) Page 10

  Claire looked up in shock as she took in Victor’s declaration. Relief and then confusion followed. “Why would Mr. Carson claim the woman to be his wife if she was not?”

  “Mr. Carson’s motivations will warrant more assessment when I have the time, but my current guess is because he ordered his wife’s murder and thus expected it to be her. I did not ask Inspector Stone the location of the lethal wound. If she was shot in the face, Carson’s mistake might be genuine.”

  “Shot in the face? The paper made it sound like she had died during the riot.”

  “She did. I initiated a riot so we could steal Mrs. Carson away. The assassin made use of the same chaos. However, by the time he arrived in Ward 3, Mrs. Carson was gone. He evidently killed this woman instead.”

  “You are certain Mrs. Carson is unharmed?”

  “Yes. And I want you to go to Alice’s estate and let Mrs. Carson know of this woman’s murder. She will want to come forward, but convince her not to do so. It will only mean this poor unknown woman died in vain, since Mr. Carson will undoubtedly hire another assassin if he knows his wife still lives. Insist she remain hidden at the estate until Scotland Yard can charge Mr. Carson with murder. I will do my best to discover the dead woman’s true identity when I have a moment.”

  Claire gasped. “When you have a moment? Victor, you must do this right away! This woman may have family who needs to know.”

  Victor’s temper flared at such unfair and irresponsible chiding. “This family probably put her in Bedlam! I have far more important cases, saving people who are yet alive and greatly loved.”

  Claire refused to get off her righteous podium. “But she will soon be buried in the wrong grave.”

  With Xavier abducted by some nefarious spy and sixteen young maids and ten young men forced into prostitution, the last thing Vic cared about was where they buried some unknown woman. “Well, if her family wants her back so bad, they can dig her up and take her home!” Vic yelled, having lost all patience.

  Gregory’s hand clamped firmly down on Vic’s shoulder. “That’s enough out of you.” Of course, he would take Claire’s side!

  Vic shook off his grip and stood. “I came home, hoping for a few hours of sleep, but now you have riled me so much I am too aggravated to rest.”

  Claire brushed non-existent lint from her skirt as she stood. “Good, then you can come with me when I go to Alice’s. And pack a trunk. We will probably stay for a few days.”

  Vic glared at her in fury. “I have work to do. Didn’t I just make that clear? I don’t have time to escort you around the country. If you need an escort, take Jonas…” She paused and noticed Gregory looking ready to swat her with the paper again. “And Gregory, as well, if you like. I’m sick of the whole sorry lot of you!”

  She stormed off before Gregory could recover from her shockingly bad behavior and lock her in her room as if she were a three-year-old child. By God, she was an investigator, desperately trying to save lives, and receiving no support from her family.

  When she stormed out the front door, the family carriage was ready and waiting. No doubt, Gregory had ordered it so she could go to Alice’s and apologize for killing Mrs. Carson.

  “Sam, take me to my office,” she ordered the driver and climbed inside. When the carriage did not move, she leaned out the window. “Now, damn you!”

  She had never cursed at Sam before, and it lit an amazing fire beneath him. He arrived at her office in record time.

  Once she climbed out, she sent him home knowing Claire would be most upset she had commandeered the carriage. Then Vic stormed into the office, ready to take on anyone else that wished to cross her path. She checked upstairs to see if Jacko was sleeping as she ordered. She found no sign of Jacko, Davy, or the carriage.

  “Bloody disobedient help,” she grumbled and returned to the front desk to go through the mail.

  She had made it through half the stack when Mr. Robinson burst into the office. “Someone has abducted my servant!” He waved a folded paper about with great distress. “I need to see Mr. Thorn immediately.”

  She wished it were even possible. Standing, Vic snatched the folded letter from his hand and read:

  We have your beloved servant, Mary. For thirty thousand pounds, we will return her and keep your secret.

  Gather the money by Friday and wait for further contact. If you go to the police, Mary will die and we will reveal all your sins.

  Damnation! She didn’t have time for more complications in this prostitution ring. “When did you receive this?”

  “A half-hour ago. I came directly here.”

  “How did you receive this?”

  “Jonston found it tacked to the door.”

  Vic saw no tack hole in the paper. “Did it come in an envelope?”

  “No.”

  She scowled. Idiot man. This note had never been tacked to anything. “They asked for thirty thousand pounds. Do you have thirty thousand pounds available?”

  “Not presently, but I will on Friday.”

  Vic stared at him. God! Must she pull every bit of information out piece by piece! “What happens on Friday?”

  “One of my bonds will mature. Thank God, I received this in time. This afternoon I intended to go to the bank and have the money placed in a new bond.”

  Vic sighed. “You are most fortunate.”

  “Should I obey the letter?”

  “Do you want Mary returned?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then you must act accordingly. Did you tell Jonston where you were going before you came here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will keep this note and review the matter with Mr. Thorn when he arrives. I’ll let you know his recommendations in a few hours.”

  “Should we not talk to him now?”

  “Mr. Thorn never allows clients to see him without an appointment made twenty-four hours in advance.”

  “But this is an emergency!”

  “They always are. The best method of getting around his rules is to allow me to speak on your behalf and then I’ll let you know what he says later today.”

  Victor walked Mr. Robinson to the door and watched him enter his carriage. She puzzled over this odd new twist as she shut the door.

  Why would Jonston take such a risk? How did he know Mr. Robinson would not go to the police? She smiled as the answer came to her. Mr. Robinson was also involved with the prostitution ring. Otherwise, this extortion would have driven him straight to Scotland Yard.

  She sighed at her idiocy. Of course, he was involved. How could he not notice fifty men arriving each Monday, Wednesday and Friday to dally with his servants? No, as guileless as he might seem, he was a part of the crime. In fact, he probably procured the gentlemen. Otherwise, how would they know where to go for their pleasure?

  So why would Jonston risk a break in his lucrative partnership with Robinson by holding Mary for ransom? Vic shook her head, unable to fathom the answer.

  Before she returned to Mr. Robinson’s, she needed to stop off at Scotland Yard. Hopefully, Inspector Stone would be in a better mood than he was this morning.

  ***

  This time the young man at the front desk took her message directly to Inspector Stone. Ten minutes later, Sergeant Meyers arrived. “Inspector Stone says you want to know about Angela Campbell?”

  “Yes, the woman I seek used to be a housekeeper for a client in the West End.”

  The sergeant shook his head. “Well, the one I know is the Madame for Dragons’ Cloud. I don’t think she’s ever been anything like a housekeeper.”

  “Beautiful is she?”

  “Long in the tooth now, but still prettier than most her girls.”

  “Mahogany-red, wavy hair, arching eyebrows and hazel green eyes?”

  “That’s her.” The sergeant chuckled. “She was a housekeeper?”

  “Not a very good one. She ran off in the middle of the night with all the silver and some jewels about eighteen years ago.”
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  “That’s about the same time she showed up with enough silver to buy a room in Dragon’s Cloud. I think we’ve the same woman. How can I help?”

  Dragon’s Cloud. The same place Jonston took the girls after they left New Royal Exchange.

  Vic smiled. “You just told me what I needed to know.”

  “Any chance your client would like to press charges for the stolen silver? I’d love to throw her in jail for something. She may be beautiful, but she’s an ugly piece of work. Dragon’s Cloud consumes a lot of young girls and boys.”

  “What do mean?”

  “Many go in and none come out, but they rarely show up in the morgue so she stays in business.”

  Vic remembered the young logistic man’s comment that Marconi & Salem in the New Royal Exchange traded in human livestock. “Any possibility she’s involved in slave trading?”

  “I’ve no proof of it, but that’s what I think happens to them. Poor things are probably living in harems in Turkey or Egypt by now.”

  Vic nodded. “You’ve been very helpful, Sergeant Meyers.”

  “May I inquire about your case that involves Angela?”

  Vic sighed. “A servant is missing and my client wants me to find the girl. Her mother was Angela Campbell. I thought she might have retrieved her daughter, now the girl was older.”

  Sergeant Meyers frowned. “There is a new girl that Angela treats better than the others. Her name is Mary, but she’s younger than your servant would be if Angela left eighteen years ago.”

  “According to the client, this servant is very petite and looks like a child.”

  The sergeant snorted. “Then you’ve found your girl. She’s working at Dragon’s Cloud as Angela’s helper. Her daughter, eh? Well, that explains her preferential treatment and why she’s allowed to come and go as she pleases.” Then he shook his head. “Still, I don’t see how a mother can sell her own flesh and blood. It seems unnatural.”

  “Well, so is leaving the child at birth.”

  Evidently, prone to an optimistic outlook, the sergeant focused on the positive point of their discovery. “I guess your case is solved now.”

  “One of them.”

  “I know that feeling. One down, thirty on fire.” The sergeant then frowned. “I’m certain you know this, but don’t go to Dragon Cloud on your own. They sell both sexes, and someone might be tempted…”

  “Yes, yes, I know. Rest assured, I’ll send an older, more frightening face, if only I can find him and put him back to work.”

  ***

  Upon leaving Scotland Yard, Vic flagged a cab and gave the driver Mr. Robinson’s address. When she arrived, Jonston didn’t hide his displeasure at seeing her.

  “So he called you in on this new nonsense?” Jonston asked as he opened the door a narrow bit.

  Vic could tell by the way he held the door only a foot wide, that he had no intention of allowing her to enter. “Yes. May I come in?”

  “What is the point? There is no ransom! He wrote the note himself,” Jonston whispered in excited agitation.

  “Ah.” Vic looked up giving him her best look of sympathy. “This must be very difficult for you. I am sorry. However, unless you wish my employer to stick his rather large nose into this business, then you need to let me enter, so I can follow the seven procedures of a ransom.”

  “Seven?”

  Vic sighed heavily and shook her head.

  Jonston lost his temper. “For the love of God! What is it that you think you have to do?”

  “It’s not what I think! I’d leave now, if it were up to me. However, according to Mr. Thorn, I first must analyze the drop site. I understand you found the note tacked to the door?”

  “Yes…no…yes, but the master put it there.”

  “Who saw him put it there?”

  “One of ...” he paused before continuing. “I did.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “I retrieved it and read the note clearly written in his handwriting. Then I went to the library and asked him what it meant. He read the note and demanded the mechanics to ready his car.” Jonston sighed. “I suppose we are fortunate he only ran to tell you and not the police.”

  Vic smiled. Not as fortunate as you think. “Excellent, step one, done. Step two, evaluate the note, done. Step three, interview all personnel in the household.” Vic looked up at him and smiled.

  “Again?”

  “New crime, new interview.”

  “But no crime has occurred.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We were hired to investigate a new crime, so I have to do a new interview.”

  “For God sakes!”

  Vic shrugged. “This is Mr. Thorn’s rule and he is far more difficult than God. Shall I start with you again?”

  Jonston pointed to the first room. “If you must,” he growled between his teeth.

  Vic entered the parlor. “The good news is I don’t have to ask you what you know about the ransom note, because you’ve already told me. In addition, I don’t have to ask about your personal data—unless you’ve changed religions since the last time we spoke.”

  “I have not.”

  “Or what you do on days off?”

  Jonston glared at her for a long moment before replying a terse ‘no.’

  “Very well, one interview down and thirty-one to go.”

  “The servants know nothing about this.”

  “Well then, the interviews should be almost as short as yours.”

  Most were. However, two of the girls were new, replacements for Rachel and Laura, whom Jonston said he fired for stealing. Both of the new girls had haunted eyes that pleaded silently for rescue.

  Vic had a great desire to gather them all up now, stuff them in a carriage, and take them to safety. Unfortunately, that would leave Jonston untouched so he could move on and ruin more lives.

  Move on. That was the point of the ransom. Jonston intended to sell the entire lot of young girls and boys to Macroni and Salem and move on. If she didn’t save them soon, she might never have the chance.

  When Sara arrived for her interview, Vic smiled, relieved to see her.

  “I missed a question about your family in my prior interview. Do you have aunts or uncles?

  “I have an aunt…or did. I’m not sure where she is now.”

  “Does she have a profession?”

  “She’s a cook…a very good one.”

  Vic smiled. “Yes, she is.”

  Sara blinked several times. “Do you know my aunt?”

  “Mrs. Yarrows?”

  “Yes! Yes…” Sara glanced behind her to ensure they were alone, then leaned in and whispered, “Can you get a message to her? Can you tell her to come get me?”

  “I think it would be better for all, if I just brought you to her.”

  Sara burst into tears of relief and then sobered as darker thoughts stole her moment of hope. “He won’t let me leave with you, nor will she welcome me once she learns what I’ve done.”

  “Well, you are correct on the first point, but wrong on the second.” Vic frowned. She needed to make a plan now. She doubted she’d get access to Sara again.

  “Are all the girls in bed by three in the morning?”

  “Not always.”

  “Four?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where do you sleep?”

  “Third floor second window from the left.” A ring of hope filled her voice.

  “Be awake at four, starting this night and tell any girls that you completely trust to do the same. Leave your window open. I will rescue you as soon as I can.”

  She grabbed Vic’s hand and kissed it. “God Bless you, sir!”

  Just then, Jonston opened the door and entered. Vic was certain he had seen them holding hands.

  “Are you done with Sara?”

  Vic tried her hardest to look like a young man in love. “I suppose. Shall I interview the outside help now?”

  Jonston looked as if he might burst with contained fury.
He took in a deep breath before speaking in a tight, constrained voice. “What could they possibly know about this?”

  Vic sighed. “This isn’t about what they know. This is about what Mr. Thorn knows. Since he knows you had thirty-two servants before, he will expect new interviews from thirty-two servants now. I’m sorry, Jonston, I have to follow his procedures. As troublesome as you find me, Mr. Thorn is far more aggravating.”

  ***

  During her interviews with the young men, she anointed a young fellow named Danny to ready his other unhappy slaves for escape upon short notice.

  She left the harem barn with a sense of ill ease, as if she had made some grievous error. She tried to convince herself she simply missed Xavier, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

  When she returned to the office, Davy greeted her with a severe scolding. “Where were you? I’ve looked everywhere! I’ve even sent Jacko to Dragon’s Cloud in search of you.”

  “You two should be sleeping, not riling up the criminals we need to arrest,” she scolded in return. She was especially unhappy because she needed Jacko to help her plan the mass rescue. “Davy, what is the least number of wagons you would need to carry twenty-six people?”

  Davy’s face took on a surly glare, as he remained silent.

  “All right, I’ll find someone else to advise me.” Why was everyone being so bloody difficult? “Will you at least take me to Scotland Yard or must I hire a cab?”

  “I’ve warned you a hundred times about taking cabs.”

  “Yes, and I won’t have to ignore your excellent warning if you will be so kind as to do your job.”

  Davy slammed out of the room. Vic hoped he was readying the carriage.

  Chapter 13

  When Vic arrived at Scotland Yard, she skipped Inspector Stone and requested to speak to Sergeant Meyers. When he arrived, she asked if he had a place where they could speak in private. He led her into an all too familiar interrogation room. God, was fate against her? She’d never wanted to return to this room in her life!