Page 45 of Evil at the Essex House
I’ve been there, naturally. To Grosvenor Square, I mean. It’s quite a prestigious address, and a pretty place, with trees and buildings, most of them residential, and people and motorcars. All the usual aspects of London. But unless someone’s specifically interested in Oscar Wilde, or perhaps in racecar driving, it isn’t a tourist spot.
“I imagine they’ve gone to confer with the American ambassador,” Christopher said.
“He lives at Grosvenor Square?”
Christopher nodded. “Has done since shortly after the American War of Independence.”
“Well, we can’t go to him. He’s not going to tell us anything.” And he wasn’t likely to be involved in the kidnapping in any other way.
“Wouldn’t if he could,” Christopher agreed, “and I doubt he can anyway, since all he’d know is what the Schlomskys told him, and we’ve already spoken with them.”
“And if they did anything to Flossie, they aren’t any more likely to admit it to him than they were to us.”
“No.” Christopher tucked his hand through my elbow. “Let’s find a telephone box and contact Crispin, and then I wouldn’t say no to a spot of tea.”
I wouldn’t, either. We had missed luncheon in our dash to and from St Olave’s and then to Scotland Yard and Chelsea and back to the Savoy. “There’s a Lyons a block down.”
“That’ll suit me fine,” Christopher said.
Me, as well. “St George can wait until we’ve had our fill of tea and buns.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Christopher agreed, and led the way.
We founda table by the window and ordered tea and cream cakes. And then, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the Strand, we settled in to have a serious conversation about what we had discovered in our wanderings.
“Whoever took Flossie,” I said, “do you suppose they live in Southwark, if they know about the church?”
“I know about it,” Christopher answered, “and I don’t live in Southwark.”
“You only know about it because you studied history at Oxford. It’s not likely that whoever snatched Flossie did that.”
Individuals with university degrees from Oxford don’t have to kidnap young American women for money, one would assume.
Christopher shrugged elegantly. “It’s hard to say. But it’s easy to speculate that they do. Know about it because they’re familiar with that area, I mean. While I’ve heard of it, I hadn’t seen it before today. Now that I know it isn’t there anymore, I wish I had gone sooner.”
“At least you got to see the tower,” I said unsympathetically. “Fewer people live in Southwark than used to, I suppose.”
Christopher nodded. “It was all residential at one time. Now it’s turning more industrial every day. Which makes it a good place to keep someone you’ve kidnapped, I suppose. Fewer people around to notice what you’re doing.”
Of course. “And they do have to keep her somewhere, don’t they?”
It wasn’t really a question, but Christopher answered it anyway. “Unless they have already disposed of her.”
“Killed her, do you mean?” I made a face. “You don’t think they have done, do you?”
“It’s not for me to say,” Christopher said, “but let’s hope not.”
Definitely let’s hope so.
“As long as they’ve kept their faces covered, she wouldn’t know who they are. And if she can’t identify them, there would be no reason to kill her.”
“One would think,” Christopher said and took a sip of tea.
I peered out the window at the hustle and bustle of the Strand. Pedestrians flowed past the Lyons at a steady clip, while motorcars rolled by beyond them. Just a few evenings ago, Flossie might have passed this window on her way to the Savoy. “It’s quite an easy trip from here to Southwark. Just five minutes, and one could be on the other side of the river. Although I still find it hard to believe that they managed to snatch a fully grown woman off the street in view of everyone.”
“You and me both,” Christopher agreed. “But as we discussed, she might have gone with them willingly, if they were people she knew. I don’t know how they could have managed it otherwise.”
We sat in silence a moment while the cream cakes arrived. When the Nippy walked away, black skirt swinging around her calves, we got back to it.
