Don't Look Back (12 page)

He had the look of a man who has just received a visitation from a siren, Lavinia thought. Tredlow was entranced.

Emeline blinked her eyes at him. "I only wish I had the time to spare for a complete tour of your collection today, sir. I know that you could teach me so much about antiquities."

"Any time, Miss Emeline." He rubbed his hands together. "I assure you it would be my privilege to instruct you in the subject. Speaking of Greek vases, I must tell you that I have an especially interesting assortment in my back room. The subject matter of the designs is most unusual. I sell them only to the most discerning connoisseurs. Perhaps you would like to make an appointment to view them?"

Lavinia had had enough. She had seen some of the Greek vases that Tredlow kept in the vast, overcrowded storage room at the rear of his shop. The subject matter of the designs was not at all suitable for young, unmarried ladies.

She cleared her throat quite forcefully. "About my questions, Mr. Tredlow."

He ignored her, evidently unable to take his eyes off Emeline.

Emeline smiled at him. "My aunt truly does have need of your professional expertise, sir. I would be very grateful if you could assist her."

"What's that? Oh, yes." Tredlow gave himself a small shake, managed to tear his gaze away from Emeline, and turned reluctantly to Lavinia. "How can I help you, Mrs. Lake?"

"As you may have heard, sir, I occasionally conduct discreet inquiries on behalf of certain persons of quality."

The last remnants of the moonstruck look vanished from Tredlow's expression. Acute disapproval replaced the lascivious warmth that had been there a moment ago. "I believe you did mention that you were attempting to make a living in that rather odd fashion."

"My aunt has taken me on as her assistant," Emeline confided. "She is teaching me the business."

Tredlow looked deeply concerned. "Not a proper occupation for a young lady, if you ask me."

"A good deal more proper than your offer to show her your private collection of Greek vases," Lavinia snapped. "Now, then, shall we get down to business, sir?"

His bushy whiskers bounced in an agitated manner. "I presume that, as you are here on
business,
you are prepared to pay for my advice and expertise?"

"Of course." Lavinia paused meaningfully. "If it proves helpful."

Tredlow rocked on his heels. "Of course, of course. Well, then, what is it you wish to know?"

"We have reason to believe that within the past few days, an ancient Roman bracelet was stolen. The antiquity was apparently discovered here in England, not brought from Italy. It is said to be a gold, pierced-work relic set with an unusual blue stone carved with the head of Medusa. There is a tiny wand cut into the stone. Have you heard about the theft?"

Tredlow's wildly overgrown whiskers jumped again as he pursed his lips in a frown of acute interest.

"You refer to the Blue Medusa?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, do you know it?"

"I have heard of it." A crafty gleam lit his eyes. "But I was not aware that it had been stolen. Are you quite certain of that?"

"That appears to be the case, yes."

"The Blue Medusa," Tredlow repeated softly, as if speaking to himself. "Stolen. Interesting. Word will no doubt spread quickly."

Lavinia did not care for the new tone in his voice any more than she had for the one he had employed with Emeline. "Mr. Tredlow, we wish to know the identity of the owner of the bracelet."

He squinted at her through his spectacles. "Obviously, as you do not know him, I must assume that you are not making these inquiries on his behalf."

"No. My associate and I have been engaged by another concerned party."

"I see. Well, now. If it has been stolen, one can assume that the thief will likely be looking for an expert in antiquities. He will need to consult with one who can properly evaluate the relic and, perhaps, assist him in arranging a discreet sale."

Sudden alarm swept through Lavinia. She exchanged a glance with Emeline and saw that she, too, had grasped the nature of this new problem.

She turned back to Tredlow. "I would strongly advise you, sir, not to contemplate for even a single second getting involved with the thief. He has already committed murder once, and I doubt very much if he would hesitate to kill again."

"Murder."
Tredlow's eyes widened. He flung out a hand and fell back a step. "Surely you are mistaken?"

"He killed a woman, apparently to silence her."

"Dear me, dear me. How dreadful." Tredlow hesitated hopefully. "I don't suppose it might have been an accident of some sort?"

"Hardly. He strangled her with a cravat."

"I see." Tredlow heaved a deep sigh. "How unfortunate. Not the sort of thing that is generally good for business."

"Unless one is in my line, of course," Lavinia said. "Now, then, concerning the name of the owner of the Medusa bracelet. You were about to mention it, I believe."

"Not before we mention my fee."

Lavinia recalled Howard's anguished words:
Money is no obstacle.
"How much do you want for this tiny snippet of information that I can no doubt obtain elsewhere without too much trouble, Mr. Tredlow?"

Tredlow fell to haggling with his customary enthusiasm. It was, after collecting erotic Greek vases, his favorite sport. Fortunately, Lavinia thought, she'd had some experience in that line herself. The enforced stay in Rome a few months back had been instructive in many respects.

"Lord Banks owns the Medusa, I believe," Tredlow said when the bargain was struck. "The only reason I know that is because the relic found its way into Prendergast's shop about a year and a half ago. Prendergast very wisely consulted with me to determine a price. He is extremely weak in the field of British-Roman antiquities, you know."

"I see." Lavinia kept her voice noncommittal. She was well aware of the long-standing rivalry between Prendergast and Tredlow.

"I saw Prendergast later and asked what had become of the bracelet. He mentioned that he had sold it to Banks. I was somewhat surprised. At one time Banks was quite an active collector of antiquities, but he got rid of the vast majority of his best pieces a few years ago after his wife died. Don't know why he wanted the Blue Medusa, but there you have it."

"I wonder why Lord Banks hasn't sent word around concerning the theft," Emeline said with a puzzled air.

Tredlow snorted. "His lordship is quite elderly, you know. Both feet in the grave, as it were. I'm told he has a bad heart and in recent months his mind has become a sieve. Probably can't recall what he had for breakfast, much less whether or not he owns the Blue Medusa. I doubt that he even knows he's been robbed."

"That would certainly explain why he has not made the theft public." Lavinia tapped the toe of her kid half boot and pondered that information. "What better victim than one who isn't even aware of his loss?"

"But surely there is someone in his household who would be aware that the bracelet has gone missing," Emeline said.

Tredlow shrugged. "As far as I know, his only relation is his niece. A Mrs. Rushton, I believe. She came to live with Banks a few months ago after she learned that he was on his deathbed. Probably didn't expect him to hang on this long."

Excitement brushed across Lavinia's nerves. Tobias had told her that an impatient heir made a lovely suspect.

"This Mrs. Rushton is in line to inherit Banks's fortune?"

"So I'm told."

"Is she a collector?" Lavinia asked, trying not to give away her growing anticipation.

Tredlow grunted. "If the lady had a serious interest in antiquities, I would have seen her in my shop by now. As I have not made her acquaintance, I think it's safe to say that she is no collector and would have no notion at all of the value of an item such as the Blue Medusa." His brows rose in speculation. "I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she is still unaware of the fact that the bracelet has been stolen."

"Yet the rumors are out in the underworld," Emeline observed.

Tredlow dismissed that with a shrug. "Probably initiated by the thief in his efforts to attract a potential purchaser for the relic."

"Do you happen to know Banks's address?" Lavinia asked quickly.

"His lordship has got a crumbling old mansion in Edgemere Square, I believe."

"Thank you, Mr. Tredlow." She retied her bonnet strings. "You've been very helpful." She swung around and made for the door. "Come, Emeline, we must be off."

Tredlow scurried after them and politely opened the door. He swept a deep bow and then fixed Lavinia with a darkling gaze. "When should I expect my fee, Mrs. Lake?"

"Don't worry." Lavinia lifted one gloved hand in airy farewell. "You shall receive it just as soon as my client pays me for my services."

"Now, see here—"

Lavinia went smartly through the opening, forestalling further conversation. Emeline gave Tredlow a sweet smile and followed. The door closed behind them.

Out on the street in front of the shop, Emeline looked at Lavinia. "I saw a certain shrewd gleam in your eyes when Tredlow mentioned Banks's niece, Mrs. Rushton. I am coming to recognize that expression. What were you thinking?"

"It occurred to me that, as Banks's heir, Mrs. Rushton may be involved in this affair in one of two ways. Either she had some part in the theft—"

"That seems unlikely, if you ask me. After all, she was set to inherit the bracelet, together with the rest of Banks's fortune."

"Or she is every bit as much a victim as Banks himself. As you just pointed out, she was due to inherit. His loss is her loss."

"Which means?"

"That she may well be a potential client for Lake and March."

Emeline looked at her with gratifying admiration. "Aunt Lavinia, that is positively brilliant. You may well have uncovered a second client in this affair."

"Indeed." Lavinia tried to remain modest. It was not an easy matter. Two clients would mean double the fees.

"Mr. March will be very pleased," Emeline said.

"It will be interesting to see if he is properly appreciative of my initiative." Lavinia frowned. "Lately he has begun to take a distinctly proprietary air toward my business."

"Proprietary?"

"Yes." Lavinia paused in the street to wait for a farmer's wagon to move past. "One might even call him dictatorial. He is forever telling me what I should and should not do. He even had the nerve to tell me that I had no business placing an advertisement in the newspapers."

"Oh, dear."

"As if it was any of his concern how I choose to advertise my business."

"I'm sure he means well."

"Rubbish. He means to discourage me from pursuing a career as an investigator. If you ask me, he does not like the fact that, when we are not working together as partners on a case, I am, in effect, his competition."

"Come now, Aunt Lavinia, it is natural that he feels a duty to advise you in matters pertaining to your business. After all, he has had a great deal more experience than you have had."

"He is doing his best to keep my experience quite limited."

"Why do you say that?"

"As an example, he refuses to introduce me to his connections in the criminal underworld. Just this morning, I suggested that he introduce me to that tavern owner he calls Smiling Jack. He refused."

"I see what you mean," Emeline said. "I suppose Mr. March feels that it would be inappropriate for you to consult with the owner of a tavern."

"In my experience, Mr. March has never been overly concerned with the niceties of propriety," Lavinia declared. "I do not believe for one moment that he is attempting to protect me from unsuitable connections. It is far more likely that he wishes to keep Smiling Jack to himself."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do. As proof of that conclusion, I must tell you that he also made excuses not to introduce me to Lord Crackenburne."

"Hmm."

"Some nonsense about Crackenburne never leaving his club."

"Well, that does seem a bit strange."

"In addition to offering opinions regardless of whether or not I have requested them and refusing to introduce me to some of his acquaintances, you will also note that Mr. March has taken to appearing quite regularly at breakfast."

Emeline nodded. "We do seem to see a lot of him in the mornings."

"It is exceedingly expensive to feed a man of his size and appetite on a regular basis."

"Mr. March does enjoy his food, does he not?"

"It is not his food, Emeline," Lavinia said with grave precision. "It is
our
food."

"I think I understand what is going on here," Emeline said gently. "You feel that Mr. March is crowding you."

"On the contrary. Mr. March is not content to merely crowd one. His ambition is to trample one into the dust and leave one lying flattened on the roadway."

"Lavinia, I hardly think—"

"All in all, it is imperative that I show him that I am perfectly capable of handling my own business affairs without his constant supervision, and that I can come up with clues and suspects without his assistance. Which brings us back to Mrs. Rushton."

Emeline looked intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"Edgemere Square is not far from here. We shall pay a call on her on our way home."

"Excellent. I shall look forward to watching your interrogation techniques."

"Speaking of techniques," Lavinia said.

"Yes?"

"I must tell you that I was impressed with the manner in which you employed that extremely syrupy smile and that blatant flattery to Mr. Tredlow. Your approach rendered him quite cooperative. Very efficient work."

"Thank you." Emeline was pleased. "My particular method of conducting inquiries may be somewhat different from your own, but I feel it has possibilities."

"Indeed, especially when one is interrogating gentlemen. Is it a difficult technique to master?"

"It comes quite naturally to me."

Tobias stretched out his legs, steepled his fingers, and regarded Crackenburne. The club was quiet at this hour. The only sounds were the snapping of the flames in the fireplace, the clink of coffee cups on saucers, and the crackle of newspapers.