Page 91 of Evil at the Essex House
“And then we’ll fetch Hiram and go to Thornton Heath,” Sarah said.
I nodded, still distracted with my thoughts. We’d send a message to Tom, fetch Hiram, and go to Thornton Heath. And then we’d see what was what.
Ten minutes later,we were in a Hackney on our way to the Savoy. Our shared flat had been empty when I went to fetch my handbag, so Christopher must still be with Tom, wherever that was. We’d get to Whitehall eventually, and it wouldn’t be too long, but the Strand was on the way, and so we stopped there first. Sarah asked the driver to wait, and I stayed with the cab while I waited for her to fetch Hiram and come back.
And so it was that I was leaning against a Hackney on Savoy Court when I heard my name spoken in a German accent. “FreuleinDarling.”
“GrafWolfgang.” I put on my best smile as I turned towards him, all the while wishing that I had put on a slightly nicer frock this morning. At that time we had been headed to the mortuary, though, to identify a dead body, and so I hadn’t wanted to put on anything I really liked, since there was a chance that I might have to throw it away afterwards. I already had a hard time with the evening frock I had been wearing last night. I had loved it when I bought it, but after what had happened, I was ambivalent about wearing it again. It would always now remind me of Flossie, and of a woman with her face beaten to unrecognizability by a blunt instrument.
At any rate, there was Wolfgang,Grafvon Natterdorff, in a stylish blue summer jacket, with a yellow patterned necktie and yellow pocket square. The combination played up both the blue of his eyes and the gold of his hair. He was carrying a walking stick, as well, a bit less ornate than the one Hiram Schlomsky habitually held—no buffalo head on this one, just a simple silver grip at the top—and he looked very handsome indeed, as evidenced by the many eyes that lingered upon him.
His lingered upon me. “Are you looking for me?”
There was just a hint of self-satisfaction in the question, as if it wasn’t really a question at all.
“I’m afraid not,” I said apologetically, “although I’m always happy to see you.”
I simpered. He simpered back, and I added, “I’m waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Schlomsky to come back downstairs. We’re on the trail of a criminal.”
The smirk dropped off his face. “A criminal?”
“Their daughter was killed last night. We’re going to her country cottage to see if we can find a clue to her killers’ whereabouts.”
Wolfgang blinked. “Alone?”
“There will be the three of us. And we’ll stop by Scotland Yard on the way, to leave a message for Detective Sergeant Gardiner. It’s his case.” And if he was there, we’d take him with us. Naturally.
“And how will he feel about you chasing down clues on your own?” Wolfgang wanted to know, severely.
I imagined I would be hearing about it later, if Tom wasn’t accessible and the Schlomskys and I ended up going to Thornton Heath by ourselves. But Tom wasn’t in charge of me—I was a grown woman in control of my own destiny, not to mention my own safety—and it wasn’t as if I wouldn’t have tried to let him know.
“I’ll go with you,” Wolfgang said, just as the Schlomskys passed through the revolving doors and came into view. He didn’t wait for me to agree, just turned to them with that formal little bow. “Madam.Mein Herr. May I introduce myself? I amGrafWolfgang Ulrich Albrechtvon und zuNatterdorff, and I am this lady’s protector.”
Oh, was he really? As if I didn’t already have more than I wanted of those.
Hiram eyed him shrewdly for a second before— “Hiram Schlomsky. My wife Sarah.”
Wolfgang clicked his heels. “A pleasure.”
“Likewise,” Hiram said, although with the way he looked at Wolfgang, bright-eyed and with his head tilted to the side, I thought he seemed more fascinated by Wolfgang’s essential foreignness than he was strictly pleased at making the acquaintance.
“I shall accompany you on your quest,” Wolfgang informed him.
It was presented as a fact, not a request at all, and Hiram’s eyebrows arched at the high-handedness. He didn’t quibble, however, just grunted, “Suit yourself,” before handing his wife into the motorcar.
“Come along, Miss Darling,” Sarah said, and her tone also brooked no interference. I slid into the backseat after Hiram. Wolfgang climbed in beside the chauffeur, and off we went.
Scotland Yard was next, ten minutes or so later, and as expected, Tom and Christopher were not sitting around waiting for me. Nor were Detective Sergeant Ian Finchley or Chief Inspector Pendennis. They were all off in a group somewhere, investigating, I assumed. I asked the constable on duty to pass along a message to Tom should he appear, and then we headed south.
The mews house in Southwark was also empty, except for a uniformed bobby standing guard outside the door. He informed us that the on-site investigation had concluded, but the crime scene had not been released, and so it would be guarded twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, until Chief Inspector Pendennis decided that he was done and could let it go. The Schlomskys both looked gratified about this, and I guess that made sense, seeing as it was the place where their daughter had died.
I told this constable, too, to pass on a message to Tom should he return, and then I got back into the Hackney again for the journey to Thornton Heath.
It isn’t a long drive,and a shorter one when you’re in South London to begin with. It was less than forty-five minutes before we were rolling slowly through the hamlet of Thornton Heath, keeping our eyes peeled for the cottage the Schlomskys had been paying for since Flossie stepped off the boat in Southampton ten months ago.
“There.” It was Sarah who spotted it first, perhaps because she was the most motivated to find it. “The small brick house over there. Is that it?”
“That must be it,” I agreed, while the Hackney driver turned the Austin towards the curb outside.
