Page 32 of A Little Bit Dangerous
“He’s not the sort of man one crosses.”
“Precisely. We would have dealt with him years ago, but he’d made it clear Aaron would get the blame if he turned up dead.”
Isabella bit into a piece of toast while contemplating the dilemma. “So, Mr Daventry wants us to prove my father is guilty of a crime. That way, it would solve everyone’s problems.”
Mr Chance searched her face. “Us?”
“I’ll not remain here, waiting like a sitting duck. We’ll continue as before. I have a few lines of enquiry we might pursue.” Surely Aaron Chance could see the sense in them uncovering the mystery of the forged artefacts. Although she was not convinced the ushabti was fake.
Mrs Maloney entered the parlour, though the hairs on Isabella’s nape prickled to attention when she saw Mr Daventry marching behind.
The man, whose powerful aura rivalled that of Mr Chance, did not greet them or offer an apology for the interruption. “It’s good to see you looking so well, Miss Lawton. Sadly, I’m about to deliver shocking news.”
Mrs Maloney ushered the man into a seat and poured him coffee.
Mr Daventry swallowed it down and sighed like it had the soothing effects of laudanum. “I’ve spent the last two hours at the mortuary.”
Isabella jerked so violently she spilled coffee on the table. “If you’re here to tell me my father is dead, sir, I assure you it will be the best news I’ve had in sixteen years.”
He gave an apologetic smile. “They hauled a body from the river this morning. A young woman fitting the curator’s description of the ghostly figure he met at the museum. Luckily, I’d asked to be informed of every suspicious death, else she would have been buried in a pauper’s grave come noon.”
An icy chill swept over Isabella.
In her notebook, she had sketched the woman’s likeness. She had detailed the houses she had visited in a bid to locate her. Her father had that notebook. Now, the poor woman was dead.
She explained her fears to Mr Daventry. “My father has all my notes, my theories, my suspicions. If he has smuggled treasures into the country, he will most certainly cover his tracks.”
Mr Chance did not mince words. “Do you think Lawton killed her?”
“I don’t deal in coincidences. Which means someone involved in the sale of the artefacts did.” Mr Daventry pinched the last piece of toast from the rack.
They fell into a heavy silence.
Isabella cradled her coffee cup, her thoughts turning to the investigation. The original crime must be serious for a man to resort to murder. The time for dallying and worrying about Aaron Chance was over.
“Sir, I understand the need to tread cautiously, but I believe we should interview the men from the Society of Antiquaries. They can explain what happened to the other seven crates listed inThe Marigold’s log.”
Mr Chance agreed. “The woman’s death changes everything. We cannot tiptoe around the curator. In our efforts to keep the investigation a secret, we’re getting nowhere. And we need to interview his assistant.”
“The coroner believes the woman was dead before she entered the water. There were bruises on her neck and defensive wounds on her arms.” Daventry paused and smiled at Mrs Maloney when she returned with more toast for the rack. “I’ve spoken to the Home Secretary. You have his permission to conduct a murder investigation, though I’m required to share your findings with Bow Street.”
Mr Chance grinned as if he welcomed the challenge. The dangerous glint in his eye said he would love nothing more than to threaten and intimidate the suspects.
“What role am I to play?” she asked.
“As my agent, you’ll lead the investigation. Regardless of outside objections, you’re more likely to solve the case if you work together. You can begin this morning. I’ve made an appointment for you to visit Somerset House.”
“We’re to interview learned antiquaries?” Like a rowboat washed out to sea, she was more than out of her depth.
Daventry nodded. “You’re to meet Mr Woodrow at one o’clock. I told the coroner you’d visit the mortuary this morning. Once you’ve seen the body, you’ll have a better idea of what you’re dealing with.”
She was to study the corpse?
Mr Chance inhaled sharply. “Perhaps I should go alone. I’m not sure a mortuary is a suitable place for a woman.”
“No, not for an ordinary woman,” Mr Daventry replied before Isabella could protest. “But I think we both agree Miss Lawton is unique.”
Mr Chance looked at her, his gaze falling to her lips. The corners of his mouth curled into a satisfied smile. “Indeed. I suppose you want me to support her where necessary.”
