Page 57 of Courier of Death
“You’re suggesting the Angels used Clan na Gael’s campaign to cover their own tracks?”
“It’s possible,” she said, shrugging. “Will you bring Rice in for questioning?”
“I’ll put a few men on it. But we have to be careful. I don’t want Rice finding out you’re the one who saw him.”
The Angels would certainly be compelled to pay her Duke Street home a visit if he did. Jasper’s lingering headache sharpened at the thought.
Leo set aside the prisoner album, then held up the other book she’d been looking through. “Did you see this?”
He took the chair across the desk from her, again longing for his office. The bricklayers had started erecting the walls, at least. “Lewis and I went through everything,” he said, though he didn’t recognize what she held. Lewis must have looked at that one.
“It’s a scheduling diary,” she said, then turned to a page she’d marked with a fountain pen. “Sir Elliot Payne’s excuse for not attending the WEA meeting the night of Mrs. Stewart’s arrest was that he had a scheduling conflict and had to meet with Sir Charles Ralston, correct?”
Jasper sat forward. “How do you know that?” He’d interviewed the MP alone.
She reached for a folder and held it up. “I read your report.”
He swiped it from her hand. God save him, the woman was a menace.
“But look here.” Leo turned the diary for him to see and pointed to an entry. “Sir Elliot’s meeting with Sir Charles Ralston didn’t take place that night. It was scheduled for the evening before.”
He looked, and according to the diary, she was right. But there might still be a reasonable explanation for the discrepancy. “The time and date might have changed, and Foster didn’t record it.”
“Why bother to strike out the WEA meeting but not write in that the meeting with Sir Charles had changed to take its place?”
Jasper turned the page to the next day’s listing. A line had been drawn through the six o’clock appointment for the WEA meeting. As Leo said, nothing had replaced it.
“I had PC Price check with Ralston’s office to be sure Sir Elliot’s alibi was solid. He said the aide confirmed it.”
Leo leaned her elbows on the desk. “What if Ralston’s aide made a mistake? Or lied?”
“So, Sir Elliot might not have an alibi, after all,” Jasper said. “But what would his possible motive be to harm his own aide?”
“Perhaps Mr. Foster learned something about him that he shouldn’t have,” she suggested.
Jasper didn’t need this, not today. He needed to speak to Mr. Stewart about why Niles Foster had gone to the bank to see him a few days before the bombings. Clarification of Emma Bates’s possible relation to Clive Paget was also imperative. But now, it seemed he needed to have another interview with Sir Elliot. It would likely come to nothing, but Jasper didn’t like being lied to. Anyone connected to his murder victim who was being untruthful—about anything—required a second look.
“Very well, I’ll pay him a call.” He massaged the back of his head. Claude assured him he’d begin to feel better with each passing day. He sure as hell hoped so.
Leo began to gather the items she’d taken from the box to store them away again.
“Your uncle said you found something in the crypt. Family belongings.”
She stilled. Then reached for another paper pile. “He kept the steamer trunk,” she said, her voice subdued. “Filled it with some of their things.”
Jasper swallowed. He’d thought of that trunk often and how lucky he’d been to spot it in the diffused moonlight coming through the attic window. Even with bright pain hammering through his chest after the little girl had gored him withsomething sharp, his thirteen-year-old self had focused on directing her toward it.
“Are you all right?” Immediately, he regretted asking Leo that. She’d spent hours locked inside that trunk because of him. It had likely become part of her nightmare too. A nightmare that he’d played a role in creating.
“The trunk didn’t bother me. Not after the first minute or two, at least.” She finished refilling the box and gripped the edges, her fingers cinching tightly. “But something else happened last night.”
He stood from his chair slowly. “What happened? What is wrong?”
Roy Lewis chose that moment to arrive. “Morning, guv,” the sergeant called as he entered the department. “I stopped by the telegraph room. They have something interesting from Kent.” He slowed as Leo moved out from behind his desk. “Oh. Miss Spencer.” He crossed a look between them and seemed to realize he’d interrupted something.
“Kent?” she inquired, then shook her head subtly at Jasper to indicate that she would tell him what happened later. Impatient and irrationally annoyed that Lewis had interrupted them, he asked the detective sergeant, “Is Mrs. Bates there?”
Lewis held up a telegram from Canterbury Station. “The Stewart children are there, but she’s already gone.”
