Page 7 of Infernal Vices

“Do you have enemies, Mr. Hannan? Failed business pursuits, or pursuits of a more…intimate nature?” The way his gaze bored into me made my skin crawl.

“No, and I object to this line of questioning. I am growing tired of this interrogation while this heinous culprit is at large.”

“Very well. I shall…wrap things up. But there is something niggling at me.” Dancer paused, his right thumb and forefinger clutching his chin, his lips pouting in thought. He then said, “How did the thief get into your home? You see, we have a witness to his escape, and yet no evidence of how he got in. Isn’t that strange? There is no sign of damage on the window locks, or scuff marks on the wall outside. The front and back doors are sound.”

What a schoolboy error! Of course the thief would have to be inside my home to escape. Damn it! Sebastian and I had not thought this through. I would need to think on my feet, and think fast! “Is that so? What are you saying, detective? I’d be grateful if you would also be frank,” I replied dryly as if this questioning was tiresome.

Dancer spoke on with more venom in his tone. “What I’m saying is that, unless he had a key to let himself in, the thief was assisted by someone in this very household.”

I could feel the blood run from my face and an icy chill come upon me. I wiped a hand over my brow, “This is unconscionable!”

“I will speak with your Mr. Troy again, and then to the other members of your household,”

I was appalled that my servants were under suspicion when I knew for certain they were all innocent of any wrongdoing. I prided myself on being a good, kind employer. I paid well and even gave my servants time off for holy days. We were a family of sorts and there was no reason for any to betray me. I hoped Troy could hold his nerve.

“Detective Inspector Dancer. My servants are beyond reproach. I will vouch for each of them. They are trustworthy and loyal.”

Dancer’s tone was patronizing in the highest as he opined, “I can see you are god-fearing gentleman, Mr. Hannan, if not a tad naïve.” I was aghast at hearing such impertinence from this stranger. I did not care if he was the son of a Duke, or the bally Queen of England, he was a guest in my home, and I demand to be treated with respect, but before I could object to the offensive statement, he held up a hand to still me.

“No offence intended; you understand. In my years with the Metropolitan Police I have seen the darkness of the world, Mr. Hannan, the belly of the beast, so to speak—skulduggery hiding beneath an innocent face,” he wheedled “You would be appalled by what the desperate and ungodly will do for a coin.” He leaned forward and fixed me in place with his amber gaze.

“What I learned very quickly is, where there’s money to be made there will always be a fellow who’ll smile politely…as he cuts your throat,” he said coldly, miming the throat slitting action across his own throat. “This cracksman could have killed your household in their beds, sir. Does that not worry you?”

I shuddered, and burning bile rose from my stomach and made me cough.

“Of course, it worries me!”

“I can feel it in my bones that someone in this household is in cahoots with the thief. I will find him, Mr. Hannan, you mark my words. I would very much like to show this thief the rope!”

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