Page 81 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
Stokes looked at the men, who had finally realized the futility of struggling and were standing half slumped in O’Donnell’s and Morgan’s holds.
Before Stokes could speak, O’Donnell said, “We already asked.” He tipped his head toward Mudd and Rawlings. “Seemed sensible to take advantage of the situation we found ourselves in.”
Stokes arched a brow. “I see. And?”
“And it seems they have orders to torch the place and make sure Keeble dies in the blaze,” O’Donnell reported.
“In their words,” Morgan added, “they were to make sure Keeble went up in smoke along with his records.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” Keeble whispered. Although he, too, had got to his feet, he was hidden from the newcomers by the searchers.
Staring at the floor, the man in O’Donnell’s grip shook his head. “We was paid to do it—didn’t seem all that bad. The geezer as paid us said this joker Keeble had double-crossed his boss.”
Stokes turned his head and looked at Keeble. “You’re right about your masters arranging your demise. If you leave them unnamed, they won’t let you live long enough to meet the hangman.”
In a pensive tone, Penelope observed, “Burning to death is said to be a terrible way to die.”
“Who knows what they’ll try next,” Barnaby said. “Poison?”
“If you tell us their names,” Stokes said, “they’ll be too busy trying to save themselves to worry about visiting any horrific retribution on you.”
Peeking between the intervening bodies, Keeble fastened his gaze on the men sent to kill him.
It took a good minute for his resistance to completely crumble, but eventually, he looked at Stokes and, in an utterly defeated tone, said, “Toby Mavenpick, Edgar Wallace, Gordon Conroy, and Elias Mitchell.”
As if saying the crime bosses’ names aloud had released some of their hold on him, in a firmer voice, Keeble told Stokes, “I don’t want to die in some horrible way—hanging will be badenough. Just get the four of them and their lieutenants behind bars, and I’ll explain everything about that ledger and throw myself on the mercy of the court.”
Barnaby nodded. “An excellent decision. It’s the best and really only thing you can do.”
Stokes had whipped out his notebook and was jotting down the names. “That and pray that the judge hearing your case understands your reasoning, for I think it’s safe to say”—he looked at the faces of the searchers gathered all around—“that ultimately, we do not.”
Stokes raised a hand and beckoned Walsh to him.
When the constable approached, Stokes nodded at Keeble. “Take him and them”—he pointed to the men in O’Donnell’s and Morgan’s charge—“to the Yard.”
Stokes followed his men to Scotland Yard to arrange for Keeble and the two others they’d apprehended to be put into the cells.
Meanwhile, the rest of the triumphant company made for Johnson’s Steak House. Barnaby organized a private room, and they sat and drank and waited for word from Stokes.
Eventually, Stokes strolled in, with O’Donnell, Morgan, and Walsh at his heels.
The company sent up a cheer, and uncharacteristically beaming with delight, Stokes sat and informed them, “There were inspectors in other departments who’ve been after those crime bosses for years and couldn’t believe their luck. I left them poring over Keeble’s ledger, and they’ll speak with him soon, but I’ve been able to pass off that side of the case entirely to them.” He glanced around the group. “And in the matter of Thomas Cardwell’s murder, we’ve reached the end and solved the case.”
Stokes looked along the table to where Ruth was sitting next to Jordan. “Miss Cardwell, I know that nothing—no amount of kudos—will ever fill the hole in your family left by your brother’s death, but please know and let the other members of your family know that, through Thomas’s insistence on doing the right thing—namely, insisting to Keeble that the authorities had to be informed of the gun-running scheme—even though that action led to Thomas’s death, his integrity resulted in not only the gun runners being arrested, Chesterton as well as his three backers, but also brought about the fall of four of the most notorious crime bosses currently operating in the capital.” He paused and inclined his head to Ruth. “The Commissioner asked specifically that I convey his regards to you and your family, and his condolences on Thomas’s death along with his commendation for Thomas’s action that ultimately led to the downfall of so many villains.”
“Hear, hear!” echoed around the room, and everyone raised their glasses.
“To Thomas Cardwell,” Barnaby said. “He might be gone, but he will not be forgotten.”
“He left his mark,” Penelope stated with a grateful nod directed at Ruth.
Ruth blushed a trifle under their regard. “Thank you. I will let the family know.”
The serving girls arrived to take their orders for food and more drinks, and the company settled to eat, slake their thirsts, and relive various parts of the case. Montague, Violet, Thomas, and Rose had yet to hear of all the twists and turns—of the Fox Orsett and the warehouse outside Tilbury, or the guns illegally sourced from the Royal Small Arms Factory, or Penelope’s interviews with Keeble’s staff—and were eager to hear the whole tale.
Later, as the talk turned to other subjects, Penelope overheard Jordan tell Ruth, “Thomas sounded like the sort of man who would have taken comfort in knowing that his death wasn’t in vain, that it led to so many serious villains being brought down.” Jordan paused, then went on, “I only met him on three occasions, but I suspect he believed that, ultimately, justice rules the world, and what’s happened has proved him right.”
Ruth squeezed Jordan’s hand and nodded. “That’s exactly how Thomas would see it.” She looked into Jordan’s eyes. “And it’s a comforting thing to be able to tell Mama, Bobby, and Gibson that Thomas has been avenged, his murderer caught, and that, because of Thomas and his honesty, justice has been served.”
