Page 24 of Her Beast

“Why was he in New York?”

“He was workin’ for Harlow’s shipping line in some capacity.”

Harlow’s shipping line.

Malcolm shook his head in grim amusement. Well, he could hardly blame Harlow for stepping into the partnership with Leeland once the shipyard and iron hull ship had been destroyed and Malcolm was lying in a hospital bed on the verge of death.

“Why’d Sheehan come back to England?” he asked.

“About six months ago he got in trouble and Harlow brought him home.”

Malcolm glanced up from the photo of Carl Sheehan to find Joe watching him with a pensive expression on his homely face.

“This picture of Sheehan is from a newspaper,” Malcolm said. “Where’d you get it?”

“It’s the only one of him I could find. It’s from an American paper and was taken about two years ago when he joined some club or other.”

Malcolm nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the slightly blurry photograph.

Where have I seen you before, you big bastard?

Joe cleared his throat and Malcolm looked up. “What?”

“I found a story mentioning him. It was published about six months ago.”

“And?” Malcolm prodded. “Is it in here somewhere?” He riffled through the photos and other bits of paper.

“Er, no, sir. It would ‘ave drawn notice if I’d taken it, but I can get you a copy, it’ll just take some time.”

Malcolm lifted his eyebrow at that but didn’t press the issue. Joe’s sources were his own business.

“What was this article about?”

“It mentioned Sheehan in connection to a crime in New York and I reckon it’s why he came back home.”

Malcolm frowned. “Are you going to make me pull each piece of information from you, Joe? What crime?”

Joe’s eyes flickered over Malcolm’s mask. “It was an arson investigation, sir.”

Even the wordarsonwas enough to cause a spike of nausea. Malcolm swallowed down the bile and panic that rose in his throat and said, “Go on.”

“Harlow’s company made an offer for some warehouses on the waterfront in New York City but the seller refused. A month later the building went up in flames. It was supposed to be empty at the time, but there were squatters and a family of five died in the fire.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the temple that wasn’t covered by his mask as Malcolm stared at Sheehan’s picture.

“So,” he finally managed. “Sheehan’s a fugitive from New York?”

“Ah, no, sir. Seems the charges were dismissed when Mr. Harlow gave him an alibi. Apparently, he and his wife go to visit once a year so she can see her brother and he can check on the business.”

“How fortunate for Sheehan that his brother-in-law happened to be there just then.” Malcolm turned back to the photograph of Tommy and Nadine Harlow. “Christ, she looks like a hatchet-faced bitch.”

“By all accounts she is one, too, sir.”

“Do her and Tommy have children?”

“Twin boys who are eleven, sir.” He flipped through his notebook. “The boys split their time between some fancy school and Mrs. Harlow’s mother’s place in Brighton. Seems Mrs. Harlow takes after the aristocracy when it comes to child raising, so she doesn’t see the brats but once or twice a year. Mrs. Harlow and her mother—Mrs. Sheehan—don’t get along.” He scratched his temple. “I’ve not yet learned why they fell out with each other, but it Mrs. Sheehan doesn’t talk to her sister Annette, either. For some reason, Mrs. Harlow allows her mother to take the boys on holidays, which the servants say is strange given how much Mrs. Harlow despises her mother’s common manners.”

“What a charming woman,” he muttered. “What’s the relationship like between Julia and her stepmother?”

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