The Bellingham Bloodbath (9 page)

I
n spite of her having been the family's scullery maid, it is true that Mrs. Behmoth served as the primary maternal influence for Colin after his mother's death when he was seven. She was not Sir Atherton's first choice for such a pivotal role in his young son's life, but after trying one nanny after another and seeing Colin pay them little heed, he'd finally had no choice but to resign himself to the attachment between Colin and Mrs. Behmoth. I am certain it was easier for Sir Atherton to simply give in. Some things have not changed.

To this day I do not profess to fully understand the bond between Colin and Mrs. Behmoth, and yet I would have bet that Colin could never have convinced her to sully her kitchen at this hour. And I would have lost that bet. Not only did she prepare sandwiches for us, but berries and clotted cream as well. Nevertheless, the moment our plates were empty we were summarily thrown from her kitchen with warnings not to return until beckoned for breakfast.

“Now tell me . . . ,” Colin said with a yawn once we got up to our bedroom, “. . . however did you manage to find the elusive Lady Stuart?”

“A most unlikely source,” I answered as I slipped out of my clothes, carefully folding the clean things and placing them back in my armoire while my underthings got tossed into a straw basket Mrs. Behmoth had provided for that purpose. “You remember Abigail Roynton . . . ?”

“Ah.” He smiled. “The lovely widow from the Arnifour case. An inspired thought on your part.” He tugged his undershirt and breeches off, flinging them in the general vicinity of Mrs. Behmoth's basket. Before crawling into bed I ensured they completed their rightful journey. “Does she know the Stuart woman?”

“She said she's familiar with her and that she very much doubts the veracity of her title.” I went on to share what little Mrs. Roynton had told me, adding in what I'd heard from Maw Heikens about the brawl between the guardsmen at McPhee's, though I was careful not to mention Maw herself. Luckily, he did not press me on where I had learned that specific bit of information.

“You have become quite the sleuth.” He smiled as he reached out and pulled me to him. “One of these days you will be handling these cases without me.”

“I very much doubt that.” I chuckled as I rested my head on his chest. “And what did
you
learn this evening?”

“Nothing quite as useful as you,” he muttered with a great yawn.

“I should like to decide for myself whose information is the more useful,” I said, snickering, but he didn't answer and a moment later I felt his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm and knew he had drifted to sleep. I was tempted to wake him, certain I would never be able to sleep without hearing what he had discovered, but before I could rally myself to do so found myself opening my eyes to morning light and staring at Colin's side of the bed, now vacant. Wednesday had arrived.

I peeked at our bedroom clock and found that it had progressed no further than six twenty-five. An unseemly time to start a day. I heaved a heavy sigh and I slid out of bed, recoiling irritably at the feel of the cold wood floor beneath my feet. Once cocooned in my robe and slippers, I headed for the study to see what he was up to. The smell of beans, sausage, eggs, and bread drifted up from below, which markedly improved my mood.

I found Colin already dressed and hovering by a voracious fire. There was a tray of tea and milk on the table, but his attentions were absorbed by the large hunting knife he was buffing to a meticulous sheen with a soft wad of cotton. “You're up early,” I remarked with no more than a whisper of enthusiasm as I stumbled to my chair.

“I've a lot on my mind. Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn't.” I seized his cup and took a greedy sip of the musky Earl Grey, grateful to feel it warming my insides as readily as the nearby fire worked on the rest of me.

“Mrs. Behmoth . . . ,” he called downstairs, “. . . you'd best make that breakfast for two.”

“Fine!” she bellowed back. “And if the mice in the walls want somethin' ta eat in another little while you be sure an' let me know that too. I'll just stay here cookin' breakfast all bloody day if it suits ya.”

“Is there ever a time she isn't foul?!” I groused. “And just what is it you're off to so early?”

“The clock is ticking.” He set the point of the knife blade down on the mantel and spun it like a top, its freshly honed steel glinting like a jewel in the burgeoning sunlight streaming through the windows. “She's a beauty, isn't she?”

“She is almost certainly putting a hole in the mantel.”

“Are you going to be disagreeable all day?”

I heaved another sigh as he headed for the staircase where Mrs. Behmoth could be heard pounding up. Cups, saucers, silverware, and china clanged precipitously until Colin managed to swoop down and seize the tray from her.

“Ya gotta put one a them damnwaiters in,” she muttered, following along behind him.

“Dumbwaiters.”

“ 'Cause one a these days . . . ,” she kept right on prattling, “. . . somebody's gonna fall down them stairs and I think we all know who
that's
gonna be.”

He shook his head as he set the tray between us. “We'll look into it as soon as the week's over.”

She glanced at me and said, “You look like somethin' a cat hacked up.”

“Thank you!” I snarled.

“This looks delicious,” Colin interrupted as he parceled out the food. “I'll bring the remnants down as soon as we've finished.”

“I'll live fer the moment,” she muttered as she headed back with her usual indelicacy.

“Do not say a word,” he warned, handing me a plate. “There are far more important things to be discussed this morning than the state of her demeanor.”

“What is the plan for today?” I conceded.

“First we're going to Major Hampstead's office. His cat-and-mouse games are irksome and it is time I extract some elemental details about Captain Bellingham from him or I shall demand to see the captain's personnel file. After that we will meet with Mrs. Bellingham's brother. We must determine whether there may be something amiss with him and his Irish Guard.” He shoved his plate onto the mantel and took up polishing the hunting knife again. “Where did you say Lady Stuart lives?” he asked after a minute.

“Lancaster Gate.”

“Excellent. Then we shall pay a visit to the captain's muse as soon as we have finished with his brother-in-law.”

“Has anyone confirmed Captain Bellingham's affair with Lady Stuart?”

“Not precisely. All we have so far is Sergeant McReedy's assertion that Captain Bellingham had been seeing a good deal of Lady Stuart recently. He admitted that he'd not met her, nor did he know where she lived, but he did confess that the captain had spoken about her on several occasions recently.”

“What had the captain said?”

He held up a hand imploring me to wait and let him tell the story his way. “Sergeant McReedy and Captain Bellingham went off to a pub recently,
not
a normal occurrence according to him, and after they tossed back a few ales the captain started asking the sergeant about his marriages.”

“Marriages? That sour young man's been married more than once?”

“Twice. And twice divorced. The captain wanted to know why Sergeant McReedy's marriages had failed.”

“Why would he want to know that?”

“The sergeant didn't know. And while he says he didn't probe for information in return, he told me the captain volunteered that his wife had been distracted lately.
Ill
-
tempered and dismissive
were the words he said the captain used.”

“And what does that mean?”

Colin shrugged. “Hard to say. But he said Captain Bellingham credited his dear friend, Lady Stuart, with being the sole person helping him keep his wits.”

“His dear friend? Is that how he referred to her?”

“So the sergeant tells it.”

“It all sounds very odd to me. Women can be wives, acquaintances, fiancées, lovers, and the occasional dalliance, but dear friends?! What kind of thing is that to say?”

“I've been wondering myself. But I should think we will find some of these answers when we visit the enigmatic lady herself.”

“Shouldn't we
start
our day with a visit to Lady Stuart then? Doesn't it sound like she would be the person best able to comment on the state of Captain Bellingham's life?”

“Perhaps. But I doubt she would be willing to offer much usable commentary if we show up at
this
hour of the morning.” He chuckled. I glanced over at the mantel clock: quarter past seven. He had a point. “And then we simply
must
turn our attentions to Lady Nesbitt-Normand's lost pup. I quite fear for her safety with every hour that goes by. If I didn't have this damnable deadline . . .” He let his voice drift off as he snatched a coin from his pocket and began spinning it through his fingers.

I didn't have the heart to remind him that the deadline had been self-imposed. “And what about the men in Captain Bellingham's unit?” I asked instead.

He sighed. “We must interview them. With only fifty-seven hours to go we are not only at the start of this case, but very much in its middle. We must raise the stakes by noon. Now get yourself dressed, and while you're doing that see if you can remember how Private Newley referred to Mrs. Bellingham yesterday.”

“Newley?”

“Yes, yes. The eager young lad who waited with us in Buckingham's forecourt while Sergeant McReedy fetched a carriage.”

“Newcombe,”
I corrected. “His name is Private Newcombe.” I recalled the slender young man with the tight, curly brown hair. He, of everyone we had met, had been the most pleasant. “I certainly don't remember him referring to her in any particular way—”

“Well then,” he challenged as he shooed me off to the bedroom. “Let us see if you notice today.”

B
y the time we got outside the day revealed itself to be bright and warm. Anything feels possible when the sun is out, which contributed to a renewed sense of optimism for me. Yet, as we pulled up to Buckingham's massive gates for the second day in a row, I stared up at the crystalline sky and could not help but remember that this was another day Captain Bellingham and his wife would never see. The sun's generosity would have no impact on them.

This time we were ushered in with little scrutiny and escorted back to Major Hampstead's office. As before, the major's youthful attaché, Corporal Bramwood, expressed great enthusiasm at having Colin pay another visit. The corporal was clearly more keen about Colin's involvement in the case than his superior officer was. It left me suspicious of the major, and as we took the seats offered by his corporal I knew Colin felt the same way.

Corporal Bramwood fussed over tea and a tray of scones before informing us that the major would join us shortly. He stepped back to the door with a smile for Colin and said, “Let me know if you need anything,” hanging on Colin's gaze as though he were Sarah Bernhardt herself.

“You have been most solicitous,” Colin answered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I cannot imagine another thing you could do.”

I wanted desperately to roll my eyes but managed to restrain myself. The corporal nodded and pulled the door shut. I glanced over at Colin and found a wide, sloppy grin covering his face. “He seems to be quite the fan of yours. It's a wonder your reputation has gotten down to his generation.”

Colin's smile curdled. “Oh, thank you ever so—”

Before I could taunt him further the door burst open and Major Hampstead stepped in, resplendent in his full red and white dress uniform with his great white plumed helmet seated atop his head. “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said, pulling the helmet off and setting it on the corner of his desk. “I always inspect the troops first thing.” He unbuttoned his tunic and heaved a sigh as his soft middle sprang free, settling behind his desk and suddenly looking much more the middle-aged man he was than the military officer who had just entered. “Do you have news for me?” he asked, and I would have sworn I heard a note of trepidation in his voice.

“Not just yet.” Colin offered a thin smile.

The major returned what I thought was meant to be a look of disappointment but was undercut by the contented way in which he suddenly leaned forward and slathered strawberry jam onto a scone. “It does seem a fat lot to accomplish in three days, Mr. Pendragon. I don't envy you. I don't envy you at all.”

“I shouldn't worry for me, Major.”

“Of course not,” he muttered as he devoured the scone.

“But as we are conscious of time, I would ask you for some assistance.”

“Anything at all.”

“I should like a letter of introduction compelling each member of your regiment to cooperate fully with my investigation, no matter the time of day or their present duties.”

“Ah.” He seemed to consider it a moment. “You're lucky the Queen's at Balmoral or I would never be able to agree to such a thing. But as it is”—he waved a hand dismissively, crumbs raining down from his lips—“I shall have Corporal Bramwood prepare something for you. What else?”

“I need for you to arrange a time for Mr. Pruitt to meet with Captain Bellingham's lad, Albert. It shouldn't take long and they can do it right here, but I should feel ever better to cover all ground. Perhaps this afternoon . . . ?” His voice trailed off as my heart ratcheted up. I had been hoping Colin might have given up that notion, but it was clear he meant to make me do this.

“Of course.” The major waved a hand again. What did he know of my discomfort or that boy's horror? “Will that be it then?”

“No. There is one other thing. I would very much like to see Captain Bellingham's record of service.”

The major paused in the midst of a bite from a second scone and stared at Colin. “You mean his personnel record?”

“I do.”

Major Hampstead took his time dabbing thoughtfully at his mouth before answering. “I'm afraid that would be out of the question, Mr. Pendragon. A man's file is never privy to the civilian population. It is simply not done. I trust you understand.”

“Not seeing that file could impede my investigation.”

“That
would
be a pity,” he sniffed, his voice dense with mock concern.

“I'm glad you understand. . . .”

The major affected a look of consideration as he downed the rest of the second scone and followed it with a sip of tea. “I'll tell you what. . . .” He stood up and headed for the door. “I shall personally check Captain Bellingham's record to see if there is anything that might prove of value to you. If there is”—he gave a wink as though sharing an intimate secret—“then I will get you a gander at that specific bit. If there is not”—he spread his arms wide at the sheer simplicity of it all—“then no harm will have been done.”

“But you won't know what to look for,” Colin answered flatly. “I hardly know myself.”

He laughed. “Then I can certainly do no worse than to search for something you yourself are uncertain of.” He yanked the door wide and bellowed to Corporal Bramwood, “I need you to put a letter together!” as he passed into the anteroom, effectively ending the matter.

Within ten minutes Corporal Bramwood had provided the promised letter and escorted us to a small conference room in which Major Hampstead agreed we could interrogate whomever we wished. To my amazement Colin selected Sergeant McReedy first, stating that he hoped to find him more willing with a clear head, though that seemed less likely to me.

“What do you make of Major Hampstead?” I asked once Colin and I were left alone. “Do you believe that twaddle about civilian access to personnel records?”

“I suspect it's true, though conveniently so,” he answered as he blithely rolled a crown through his fingers. “It seems to me he's hiding something.”

“And what do you suppose that could be?”

“Something to do with the Guard's reputation, I would guess. Just imagine if the captain and his wife were killed by a member of the Guard itself . . . or perhaps a cadre of them? Now
that
would be something he would be anxious to keep from the press.”

I wrinkled my nose. “A conspiracy?”

“Be careful of dismissing what we have yet to prove false.”

“But really, murderous vigilantes in the Guard? Do you really think such a thing could be credible?”

“Anything is credible.”

“You suspect no one yet?”

He scowled. “I suspect everyone. Haven't you been paying attention?”

I was on the verge of an exceedingly arch reply when Sergeant McReedy burst into the room with an expression of unmistakable gall. He stood at attention, his powerful chest straining against his red tunic as he held his plumed helmet in the crook of one arm. His eyes were riveted on nothing, staring vacantly behind our heads, and his lips were pinched so tightly that they appeared to be receding from his face.

“Sit down, Sergeant.” Colin gave a quick smile as he slid the crown back into his pocket. “There's certainly no need for formalities.”

“I would rather stand,” he shot back.

“Is there something preventing you from joining us or have you decided our company is only acceptable after dark?”

“I have already said everything I have to say. If you persist in singling me out then you will have succeeded in nothing more than earning me the distrust of my men. I cannot do my job under such conditions.” He held his gaze rigidly forward as Colin stood up and moved around behind him.

“Really now, Sergeant—”

“I wouldn't expect you to understand,” he hissed with quiet force.

“Very well. Then I shall need to see every man who was serving directly under Captain Bellingham at the time of his death. How many would that be?”

“About a dozen. But there were over four hundred under his command.”

“I'll start with the dozen.” He circled back by me. “Did you count yourself in that number?”

“Am I a suspect?”

“Everyone is a suspect.”

“Is that why you plied me with ale? To see what stories I might let slip?”

“Is that what I did?”

“I'm not daft, Mr. Pendragon.”

“I never thought you were. Just tell me one thing. Why is everyone in the Guard so unwilling to see me solve these murders?”

“Because we take care of our own. We don't need
you
to settle our business.”

Colin leaned across the table, his voice low and hard. “The slaughter of a captain and his wife in their own home while their young son cowers nearby is hardly taking care of your own. And I find your sudden change of attitude most disturbing, Sergeant McReedy. So you will bring me those dozen men in quick succession or you can tell your major I will be going to the press to divulge how the Queen's Guard refuses to cooperate in the resolution of these murders. Do not trifle with me.”

Sergeant McReedy sucked a breath in through gritted teeth before turning and stalking out.

“Why is he being such an ass when he was so accommodating last evening?” I asked.

“Either your reference about a brawl between the captain and his Irish Guard brother-in-law has permanently set him off or the disingenuous Major Hampstead has rolled out a fresh edict this morning. I wouldn't be the least surprised if he has instructed his men to cooperate only so far as they must in order to keep us mollified.”

“That would be a travesty.”

Captain Bellingham's aide-de-camp, Corporal Blevins, abruptly rapped on the doorjamb. He had shown me around the Bellingham flat the day before until Inspector Varcoe's arrival had put us all off. But before the skinny black-haired corporal could join us, Major Hampstead appeared behind him in the doorway and quickly shooed the young man out, pulling the door closed behind him.

“I have just been told the most disturbing thing, Mr. Pendragon,” the major said in a tone that sounded very much like scolding. “I thought we agreed your investigation was to be conducted with the utmost discretion. That no statements would be released until Friday evening with my express input.”

“Unless I solve it before then,” Colin corrected.

“Solve it?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you think you have solved these murders in a single day?”

“Had I solved them”—Colin folded his arms behind his head—“would I be on the verge of torturing that young corporal with questions?”

“Of course.” I could feel the major's demeanor ease. “We also agreed you would report any findings to me before you engaged the press, did we not?”

“Yes, Major.”

“Very well then.” He smiled. “As I said yesterday, my desire is solely to protect the reputation and honor of both Her Majesty and the Guard.”

“Noble.” Colin's smile was rigid and forced. “May I get on with my investigation now?”

“Of course.” The major turned and yanked the door wide, but before he stepped out he paused and with his back still toward us said, “I will have Corporal Bramwood set up Friday's conference.” He glanced back at Colin. “I look forward to having this behind us.”

“Yes . . . ,” Colin said to the major's disappearing back, “you smarmy ass.”

“Now, now . . . ,” I cautioned, “don't let him get to you.”

He glared at me foully and called out, “We are ready, Corporal Blevins!”

“Yes, sir.” The thin young man entered the room but remained hovering by the door.

“It seems your major believes the Guard's business should be kept out of the papers even at the cost of a truthful resolution.” Colin waved him to a seat.

“Thank you, sir. The Guard will find the truth. We take care of our own. It is the honor of being in Her Majesty's service.”

“Do you believe the perpetrator is a member of the Guard?”

He blanched. “No, sir.”

“As the captain's aide, is there anyone who gives you pause?”

“No one, sir.”

Colin stood up and moved toward the young man, taking a circuitous, sauntering tack. “How long did you report to him?”

“Five months, sir.”

“Ample time for a bright young corporal to see and hear things. Whom was he having problems with?”

“No one, sir.”

“Who complained to you about him?”

“No one, sir.”

“Whom was he angry with . . . ? Whom had he recently disciplined . . . ? Whose character was he worried about . . . ?”

“No one, sir. There was no one. No one at all.”

Colin stopped behind Corporal Blevins and leaned in close, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “What about his wife's brother, Corporal?”

He sat motionless, not even drawing a breath as he answered, “I don't know him, sir.”

Colin remained as he was a minute, looming over the young man's shoulder, before abruptly pulling away. “Thank you,” he said warmly.

Corporal Blevins nodded as he jumped up and hurried from the room.

In quick succession we met a Second Lieutenant Dwight Hanover followed by two more second lieutenants, three lieutenants, two sergeants, another corporal, and two lance corporals. The verdict of the men was unanimous: Captain Bellingham had been a first-rate leader who inspired his troops, treated his men fairly, provided clear direction, and never asked anything he himself was not prepared to do. He seemed a man without enemies or conflict, other than the fact that someone had murdered him in the most brutal way.

“Are they all lying?” I couldn't hide my frustration after the last man said his final memorializing words and took his leave.

“They can't be. They had no idea whom we would want to speak with until we got here.” He dropped to the ground and hastily knocked out a dozen push-ups before springing back to his feet. “I'd say most of these men believe exactly what they're telling us: that Captain Bellingham truly was a man of virtue and substance. But I suspect we are being led astray in what they are
not
telling us.” He turned and strode to the door with fresh purpose.
“Sergeant McReedy!”
he hollered down the hall. “I should like to speak to Privates O'Fallon and Newcombe, and to Corporal Bramwood, in that order, please.” He turned back to me. “Did you bring Lady Stuart's address?”