Page 58 of Murder in Blackfriars

I needed to speak to Daniel. I knew the minute I told him about Mr. Naismith’s visit, he’d do something extremely foolish, like rush after the man and try to pound some respect into him. Again, this might only result in his arrest but not stop Mr. Naismith or his gang.

It was infuriating.

Daniel would also want me to have nothing to do with discovering who had killed Mr. Banks, but I still wanted justice for the man. He’d endangered himself for queen and country, had been given a medal for his troubles, and, according to all, had been a mild-mannered and kindhearted man.

I was certain now that Mr. Banks had sought out Daniel because he thought he could do Daniel a good turn. Mr. Naismith had said Mr. Banks was involved in something spurious, but I wasn’t about to believe Mr. Naismith unwittingly.

I had other reasons to speak to Daniel, but I had no scheduled deliveries today, nor did the dratted man invent a reason to visit the house. When I had a free moment, I went upstairs to see if James lurked, but he’d made himself scarce as well.

I took out my frustration on the bread dough, kneading it in a quick frenzy. I wisely gave Tess the scones to finish, because overhandling that dough would ruin them. Yeasty breads were more robust.

When Lady Cynthia came down the back stairs and into the kitchen, searching for a tidbit, I nearly fell upon her.

“Good heavens, Mrs. H., whatever is the matter?” Cynthia asked as I rushed to her. “Are those fresh-baked scones I smell? Couldn’t see your way to tossing me one, could you, Tess?”

She’d dressed in her trousers and coat today, which meant she’d be visiting her friends, Miss Townsend and her friend Lady Roberta, referred to as Bobby, not Mr. Thanos at the Polytechnic.

I dashed back to the oven, snatched a scone from the tray the startled Tess had set on top of the stove, and hastened with it back to Cynthia. I grabbed a napkin from the table as I passed it, so Cynthia wouldn’t burn her fingers—I never felt the heat.

“Cynthia, would you, or Miss Townsend, or Lady Roberta,please take a message to Daniel, at both of his abodes, that I need to speak to him? I doubt I’ll be able to get away long enough to hunt him up. Also to Mr. Fielding, if you can.”

Cynthia’s eyes widened, not only at my request but because I’d left theLadyfrom her name. That delighted her, I could see, but this was not the moment for discussing her egalitarianism.

“If you’d like,” Cynthia said. “Clearly something is the matter.”

“Everything is the matter, but I can’t explain now. Please. And do take care when you are out. Use a hansom, and do not descend anywhere but Miss Townsend’s front door. Her footmen can run with the messages.”

“Gracious.” Cynthia looked me up and down. “Well, I am agog with curiosity, but I’ll do as you ask. I will make you tell me later.” She took a bite of the scone, briefly closing her eyes to savor it. “I say, this is wonderful. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Tess put them together,” I said. “The praise is hers. Wait a moment.” I seized a small basket, hurried back to the stove, wrapped six more of the scones in a towel, and carried them to Cynthia. “Take these to your friends. I’ll make more.”

Tess watched in bewilderment, but Cynthia grinned. “You do know how to raise the morale of your troops. Fear not, Mrs. H. We will have McAdam and Fielding informed as swiftly as possible.”

“Thank you.”

Cynthia saluted me with the rest of her scone and skimmed out, the basket firmly on her arm.

“Forgive me, Tess,” I said once Cynthia was gone. “I am most agitated.”

“Anything I can do?” Tess asked, watching me carefully.

“Perhaps.” I’d been contemplating many different avenuessince Mr. Naismith had stopped by for his chat. “Can you ask Constable Greene—discreetly, of course—what has happened with the murder of Mr. Banks? And also what is known at Scotland Yard about an East End villain called Naismith?”

Tess’s eyes widened. “Naismith? Even I heard o’ him. You don’t want no truck with him or any of his lads.”

“I might not have a choice, and I still wish to know. No need to rush off to find him—asking him on Sunday will be good enough.”

“Caleb says the police have been at sixes and sevens lately.” Tess returned to the table and began measuring out more flour for another batch of scones. “He won’t tell me everything, but they’ve been uneasy since the dynamite went off right under their noses. If not for you and McAdam, things would have been much worse, and they know it. Then McAdam leaves the Yard, when they need him and his clever brain. There’s been a lot of arguing in the halls, Caleb says.”

If they’d treated Daniel better, he’d have happily stayed, I thought with derision. Served them right.

I wondered if more was going on than Caleb knew, or at least would tell Tess. Daniel had pretty much put Mr. Monaghan in his place before he left them, and I wondered if there would be a shuffling of leaders in departments. Had Sergeant Scott’s inspector truly taken leave or was Sergeant Scott being put in his place?

And if the police were at odds with themselves, how could they help with a man like Naismith?

“Whatever Caleb can tell me, without risking his post, will be welcome,” I concluded.

“I’ll ask him,” Tess promised.