Chapter 21

21

A fter consuming a hearty breakfast the following morning, Adrian took his carriage to Fairchild House, arriving there within ten minutes. He rapped sharply on the oak door.

It creaked open to reveal a stern-faced butler. "May I help you, sir?"

Adrian handed him his calling card and waited for him to note the name before saying, "I wish to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild on a matter of some urgency."

The butler opened the door wider so Adrian could enter. "Wait here while I see if they are at home."

Adrian crossed the threshold, his boots echoing on the cracked marble floor, and gazed at the portraits lining the walls. The Fairchilds looked like a proud family. Private, he'd learned this morning when he'd reviewed their file in preparation for the visit.

This won't be easy .

Dismissing the negative thought, he straightened his spine at the sound of the butler returning.

"Please have a seat in the parlor. Mr. Fairchild will join you shortly."

Adrian thanked him and entered the room immediately to the left of the foyer, coming to an abrupt halt on account of the bleakness he found there. Black crepe still dampened the light attempting to find its way through the windows, casting a shadow over the space. Nearly a year had passed since Miss Fairchild's death, yet the family showed no sign of moving on.

How could they?

His heart ached on account of their loss, which mirrored his own. Unlike them, however, he could not sit and wallow in misery, entombed in dreary despair. He had to move and he had to act. He had to seek justice. That was his process. Killing the bastard who'd cut his beloved sister's life short would help.

"Mr. Croft?"

Adrian turned in response to the gruff use of his name and met Mr. Fairchild's hard gaze. His wife, who'd apparently chosen to accompany him, clutched his arm. A frown puckered her brow.

"Your visit is most unexpected," Mr. Fairchild said stiffly.

"Why have you come?" Mrs. Fairchild asked. "You're not a friend or an acquaintance."

Adrian inclined his head. Had he been his father, he'd not have allowed the insult to slide.

Mr. Fairchild patted his wife's hand. "It's all right, my dear. I'm sure Mr. Croft has his reasons."

"I understand this will be difficult," Adrian said, wishing he were anywhere else and didn't have to do this. "As you may know, my sister was recently murdered."

"Our condolences for your loss," Mr. Fairchild murmured.

"Thank you. You have mine as well." Adrian took a deep breath and expelled it. "Given the nature of Evelyn's wounds, it's likely she was attacked by the same man who killed your daughter."

"I'll not be discussing Gwendolyn with a man of your reputation," Mrs. Fairchild said.

Aware of what these poor people had been through, Adrian chose to ignore the comment. "Any information you can provide will be helpful in bringing the killer to justice."

"We already spoke with the constable," Mr. Fairchild informed him.

"I understand, but—"

"There's nothing more to say," Mrs. Fairchild cried. She turned away, hiding her face and the tears she shed against her husband's shoulder.

"You may not think so," Adrian said, doing his best to infuse his voice with endless amounts of goodwill. "However, there might be a detail you failed to disclose – something you simply forgot in your moment of grief. If you could outline your daughter's final days it could offer valuable insight."

"As I've already said," Mr. Fairchild told him sternly, "we spoke with the constable."

"And where has that led you?" When Mr. Fairchild glared at him while trying to soothe his weeping wife, Adrian said, "The constable has failed in his duty toward you. I aim to succeed where he did not."

"No." Mrs. Fairchild shook her head. "We'll have no dealings with you."

"I'm only try—"

"My apologies, Mr. Croft," said Mr. Fairchild, "but I must agree with my wife."

The couple turned as one, their gazes fixed on the exit they meant him to use.

With nothing else to be gained, Adrian strode past the Fairchilds's sour expressions. He entered the foyer and stopped, surprised to find a young woman lurking near the front door. She looked to be no more than sixteen years old.

Adrian gave her a curt nod then glanced around, seeking the butler. Not finding him, he crossed to the hallway table where his hat and gloves waited.

The young woman rushed forward, beating him to the table. "Allow me."

She handed him his hat while casting a nervous glance toward the parlor where Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild remained.

"Thank you, Miss…?"

"Edwina Fairchild," she whispered. Her throat contracted as she swallowed, and then she was pressing his gloves into his hands along with a piece of paper.

Pleading eyes held his for the briefest of moments before she turned and darted upstairs. Adrian frowned, then lowered his gaze to the note she'd slipped him. He read the brief missive quickly, shoved it in his pocket, and left the house, putting his gloves on as he walked.

Tomorrow would hopefully lead to more answers regarding Miss Fairchild. For the present, however, he meant to learn more about Lundquist and Walker – information Kendrick was sure to possess.

He strode into Bow Street half an hour later, ignoring the curious glances of constables who knew his reputation all too well.

It took a while for the clerk to inform Kendrick of his presence and even longer for Kendrick to step from his office. When he finally did, his displeasure showed in his expression and the sharp clip of his heels against the tiled floor as he crossed to where Adrian stood.

"Mr. Croft." The chief constable's voice was curt, though not entirely impolite. "I never thought you'd come here of your own free will."

"Whyever not?" Adrian asked, refusing to let the likes of Kendrick make any presumptions about him. He smirked – noted how this seemed to increase Kendrick's annoyance – and told him, "I have a question regarding your murder investigation."

Kendrick clenched his jaw. "Any information I have on that matter is classified until the case is closed. If that is all, I a—"

"Why did you release Lundquist and Walker?"

"I have my reasons."

"And what are they, if you don't mind my asking."

"As a matter of fact, I do mind. You have no business knowing."

Adrian shifted his weight, bringing his mouth level with Kendrick's ear. "Your inability to track down the man who murdered my sister makes it my business. So indulge me, or I will see to it that a more agreeable man acquires your position."

Smiling, he leaned back and waited for Kendrick's response.

The constable shifted his gaze to one side, his mouth set in a stubborn line before he eventually shook his head and hissed out a breath. "Damn you, Croft. I had no choice. Walker has an alibi for the time of Miss Irvine's death, verified by multiple witnesses. He left Vauxhall at eight with a number of friends. As for Lundquist, the chief magistrate has personally vouched for his character."

"Lundquist's a lucky man," Adrian drawled, "to have a relation who's able to clear his name."

Only a quick twitch of the lips suggested Kendrick was taken aback by Adrian knowing there was a family tie between the two men. "He would have been let go regardless. There was nothing to justify holding him."

"A mistake on your part. Wouldn't you say?"

Kendrick's eyes flared with anger. "If that is all, I'd like to get back to work."

Adrian snorted and turned for the door. "Don't waste your time. I'll track down the killer myself."

He stalked from the station and headed home. There, in his study, he found Edward waiting in one of the armchairs. A decanter of brandy and two glasses sat on Adrian's desk.

Edward turned in his seat at the sound of Adrian's entrance, concern etched on his face. "You look as though you could use a drink."

Adrian crossed the floor, filled both glasses, and sank into a chair with a weary sigh before sharing his recent findings with Edward.

"Walker had an alibi and the blasted chief magistrate vouched for Lundquist. Turns out they're related. Second cousins." He downed a measure of brandy and savored the burn as it slid down his throat.

Edward frowned. "Sounds like corruption to me."

"Indeed." Adrian shifted his glass so the light from the fireplace caught the cut crystal. "Miss Fairchild's sister slipped me a note this morning when I went to call on her parents. She wants me to meet her in Green Park tomorrow. Looks like she might be willing to help."

"Are you sure it's wise of you to be getting involved?" Edward tilted his head. "If I were to catch the bastard who did this, I'd have a hard time restraining myself. I'm sure the same goes for you, which makes me worry. You don't want to be the one ending up behind bars, Adrian."

"There's no need for concern. I'm only trying to piece everything together so I can point Kendrick in the right direction." A lie, but a necessary one.

"In that case, I hope Miss Fairchild's sister has something useful to share." Edward's gaze hardened. "I want the killer to hang."

Adrian had no intention of letting him face a judge. A hanging would be too kind. But he didn't argue. Instead, he took another sip of his drink.