Why Mermaids Sing

Chapter 30

“Your inquiries are obviously making someone nervous,” said Paul Gibson, leaning back in his chair. They were in a coffee shop near the Mall. The morning’s fog had returned to settle over the city like a cold, wet blanket that spoke of the coming end to summer’s balmy days and soft sunshine.

“Obviously,” said Sebastian with a wry smile. “The question is, who?”

The surgeon stared down at the hot steam rising from his coffee. “Are you so certain this latest killing near the river is related to the other three? The docks are a dangerous place.”

“What sort of dockside killer takes the time to stuff a mandrake root in his victim’s mouth but doesn’t bother to relieve him of his purse and watch?”

“You do have a point. But the method of killing is entirely different. And there was no draining of the blood, no butchery of the corpse.”

Sebastian leaned forward. “You talked to the surgeon who performed Bellamy’s postmortem?”

A slow smile touched Gibson’s eyes. “I thought you might be interested.”

“And?”

“The consulting surgeon found nothing beyond the stab wound. And the mandrake root, of course.”

Sebastian frowned. “Perhaps the killer was interrupted. The other young men—Thornton, Carmichael, and Stanton—all seem to have been waylaid and taken elsewhere to be killed. If Bellamy tried to resist his attacker, the murderer might have been forced to kill him on the spot. He wouldn’t have been able to butcher the body in such a public place, so he simply left the mandrake root and fled.”

The tramp of marching feet brought Sebastian’s head around. Through the paned glass of the coffee shop’s front window, he could see a troop of pressed men marching down the street on their way to the docks and a life of service in His Majesty’s Navy. Hemmed in close by their press-gang, the men looked to range in age from fifteen to fifty, their faces haggard with fear, their wrists manacled like criminals.

“Poor bastards,” murmured Gibson, following Sebastian’s gaze. “I never see the unlucky sods without thinking of that line from ‘Rule, Britannia.’ You know the one…‘Britons never, never, never shall be slaves’?”

Sebastian choked on his coffee, while Gibson leaned forward suddenly, his face intent. “That poem you were telling me about, the one by Donne. It suggests a life spent in travel. Perhaps this Lieutenant Adrian Bellamy is the key to it all.”

Sebastian shook his head. “The man was at sea for half his life, since he was a lad. What kind of contact could he have had with the other three? No, I think the answer lies with the murdered men’s fathers—or their mothers.”

“An unfaithful woman?”

“Or unfaithful women.”

Gibson ran a finger thoughtfully up and down the side of his cup. “You say Reverend Thornton, Sir Humphrey Carmichael, and Captain Edward Bellamy have all visited India. What about Lord Stanton?”

“I don’t know yet. But they’re all obviously hiding something. And at least one of them seems willing to kill me in order to conceal it.”

“What kind of man continues to hide a secret that puts his own children at risk?”

“All manner of men, or so it would seem.”

Gibson stared out at the street, empty now in the flat light of the dying afternoon. “It must be a terrible secret,” he said, draining his cup to the dregs. “A terrible secret indeed.”

Sebastian was walking up the Mall, headed for the public office in Queen Square, when he became aware of an elegant town carriage slowing beside him. Glancing sideways, Sebastian recognized the crest of Charles, Lord Jarvis emblazoned on the carriage door. He kept walking.

“My lord.” A footman descended to hurry after him. “Lord Devlin! Lord Jarvis would like a word with you.”

Sebastian kept walking. “Tell his lordship I’m not interested.”

He turned the corner. He was aware of the carriage turning with him, then heard the sound of a window being let down. Lord Jarvis’s voice was pitched low, but Sebastian had no difficulty hearing his words over the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of passing carriage wheels. “I know of your visit to Greenwich. I know Sir Henry Lovejoy asked for your assistance in solving this rather lurid series of murders, and I know that while Sir Henry has been removed from the investigation, you are obviously still determined to catch this killer.”

Sebastian swung to face him. “And?”

Jarvis gave a grim smile. “And I know something that can help you.”