Chapter 26

26

L undquist House was teeming with people when Samantha stopped by to pay her respects. Servants hurried about, attending to guests and family members while Kendrick spoke with Lundquist in the hallway. A steady stream of Runners moved up and down the stairs, the overall look about them suggesting they were terribly busy and important.

Samantha stepped aside to let one past her as she entered the house. News of Lady Lavinia's death had reached her the previous evening when Harlowe brought it up over dinner. She'd thought of it at great length since and knew she had to learn more.

Another death meant another chance at catching the killer.

The bouquet of lilies she'd purchased on her way over weighed heavily in her hands. Despite the resolve with which she'd come, melancholia crawled through her veins like a sickness attempting to find a foothold.

This had to end, but a year had now passed since the first murder, and it didn't look as though Bow Street was closer to catching the killer than they had been then. As for Mr. Croft's own attempts, they'd clearly led him astray. He'd been so certain the man he hunted was Lundquist, but that seemed highly unlikely now.

Hopefully, by coming here, Samantha would discover something more useful – a piece of information to aid the investigation and bring these pointless deaths to an end.

"The parlor is fully occupied at present," said the butler, his lifeless eyes a perfect match for the somber mood. "Please wait here a moment. I'm sure a seat will be made available shortly."

The butler vanished, leaving Samantha alone, save for an elderly man who also waited. She nodded a greeting at him, then glanced along the length of the hallway to where Lundquist stood with Kendrick. Neither man had noticed her yet, and since they spoke in muted tones, it was impossible for her to hear what either one said.

A nearby clock chimed the hour. Four in the afternoon.

Another Runner descended the stairs and went to join his colleagues outside. The man who waited with her proceeded to study a painting, his disinterest in chatting with her made all the clearer when he turned his back.

Just as well.

Intent on finding her own answers, Samantha took a deep breath, placed her bouquet on a nearby table, and climbed to the first-floor landing with confident steps.

A swift sweep of the hallway assured her she was alone. Conscious of her limited time, she moved with purpose, striding directly toward the only door that stood open. Taking a quick look inside, she confirmed it must have belonged to Lady Lavinia. The Runners had not been considerate in their search, which appeared to have been quite thorough.

There wasn't a mess as such, just an overall sense of things having been moved.

Samantha walked to the center of the room and turned around slowly, assessing every surface, each drawer, cupboard, and corner until…

She approached the windowsill. The slight misalignment would have escaped her notice had she not been searching for something unusual. Her hand slid over the wood, adding pressure until it rocked ever so slightly beneath her touch.

Sliding her fingertips under the windowsill's lip, she gave it an upward nudge and was unsurprised when it opened toward a hollow space beneath.

A collection of letters were hidden within.

Samantha grabbed them, stashed them in her skirt pocket, and closed the windowsill so it looked just as undisturbed as when she'd found it.

The sound of approaching footsteps reached her. A woman's voice followed.

Samantha crossed to the door and peeked out into the hallway just in time to see a maid disappearing into another room.

Although she did have an explanation at the ready if anyone found her up here, she'd rather avoid the altercation and chose therefore to slip from Lady Lavinia's room with a silent tread.

She descended the stairs to the foyer where the man no longer waited, sent the lilies she'd brought a quick glance in passing, exited the house, and climbed into her awaiting carriage.

The conveyance took off at once, allowing her to relax against the squabs without the fear of discovery.

* * *

Adrian had begun reviewing what little he knew from the very beginning, this time with the idea of Mr. Walker being the killer. Considering Walker's alibi on the eve of Miss Irvine's murder, he would have had to have found a way to return to Vauxhall and kill her without those vouching for him being any the wiser.

If such a thing were possible, Adrian meant to find out.

To do this, he'd need to visit Vauxhall. The pleasure park was walled in, but maybe a tree could be climbed to allow easy access. He'd have to check, so he told his driver to take him straight to the front entrance. There, he paid the small admittance fee, then a slightly larger fee for the information he needed.

The park attendant who welcomed the coin he offered showed him to the spot where Miss Irvine was found. The area was perfect for all manner of mischief. Cut off from the main pathways and filled with vegetation, it felt like a woodland scene instead of a place in the City.

Adrian stepped between the trees and bushes, moving deeper into the brush until he arrived at the boundary wall. A few nearby trees could have been climbed to escape unnoticed. But what about getting in?

He'd have to check the opposite side, and since it was too high up for him to mark the location, there was no other choice but to measure the distance to the next corner. Not a straightforward feat when bushes interrupted his path in numerous places. The result was an estimation. Give or take a few yards either way, he should get a sense of where the culprit had entered the park if he'd climbed over the wall.

Once he knew this, he'd have a much better sense of whether or not Walker could have parted ways with his friends, doubled back, and killed Miss Irvine without anyone knowing.

It seemed like a stretch, but it was the best lead he had at the moment.

Turning, he prepared to head back to the main entrance when he spotted Miss Carmichael out for a stroll. She was accompanied by Miss Violet Greene and Lady Octavia Burley, Lady Heathbrooke's companion, Miss Roberts, and the same woman he'd seen her with at Reed's Boxing club. Her name escaped him at the moment.

Unable to resist, he called out Miss Carmichael's name to draw her attention. A smile lit up her face when she saw him. "Mr. Croft. What a lovely surprise."

"I couldn't agree with you more," he said as he walked toward her and her friends.

"You remember Miss Stevens?"

"Of course." He bowed toward the red-head.

"And are you acquainted with Miss Roberts, Miss Greene, and Lady Octavia?"

"We've seen each other in passing," Miss Roberts answered, "though we've never been formally introduced."

"It's a pleasure," Adrian told her. He greeted Miss Greene and Lady Octavia next, then directed his attention back to Miss Carmichael. Her smile had faded a little, but that didn't make her any less radiant. He cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and gestured in the direction the ladies were heading. "Shall we?"

A bit impertinent of him to force himself into her company, but he'd always been driven – the sort of man who went after what he wanted as soon as he figured out what that was. Right now, he wanted to learn if he and Miss Carmichael had a chance at more than friendship.

He offered his arm and felt the space behind his ribs expand the moment her hand touched it.

They proceeded at a casual pace, allowing her friends to take the lead while they followed behind. It was odd seeing the pleasure garden during the light of day. The place lacked the vibrance found after dark when lackluster objects were cast in shadow and lanterns spread a magical glow across every path.

"Do you come here regularly?" Miss Carmichael asked while they strolled. Wisps of her blonde hair curled from beneath her bonnet, falling against the curve of her neck. It was rather distracting.

Adrian tore his gaze away when she sent him a questioning look. "I tend to frequent Hyde Park since I prefer riding when time allows. However, I did feel the need to stretch my legs today, and this seemed as good a place as any in which to do so."

Not a lie, exactly. Moving helped ease the tension that gripped his nerves these days, when he stayed home too long with his own thoughts.

A soft smile captured Miss Carmichael's lips. "I visited Lundquist House earlier. It seems you made a mistake regarding the marquess."

Adrian nodded. "I apologized to him this morning when I went to pay my respects."

The marquess had accepted his apology with grace. Truth be told, he'd looked too exhausted for feelings of anger or resentment.

"That was very good of you."

"It was the right thing to do." Even if Adrian still believed the marquess had deserved to be punished for striking a woman, he'd not killed anyone and would now have to bury his sister.

They continued in silence for a while before Miss Carmichael asked, "Are you looking into anyone else?"

Adrian paused. There was Mr. Walker of course, but nothing had come of that yet. Besides, he was wary of making another mistake. If he was to mention someone's name in connection with the murders, he had to be sure of the man's involvement this time.

"Not really. But the nature of Lady Lavinia's death compels me to warn you. You must be extra careful when venturing out. Promise me you won't go anywhere alone. Especially not at night."

"Of course."

Relief poured through him, but it wasn't enough. He had to make sure she'd stay safe. So he gritted his teeth and told her bluntly, "Whoever the murderer is, it would seem he's evolving."

Her beautiful eyes filled with endless concern. "How do you mean?"

"Lady Lavinia's murder was different. I saw her body and…" He paused to consider his next words. However important the subject he wanted to broach, he could not forget with whom he was speaking. Miss Carmichael was still a young lady whose sensibilities had to be taken into account. And yet, there was no delicate way around it. "He's no longer killing for the sole purpose of ridding the world of unworthy women. It would seem he's…begun enjoying the act."

"In other words, it's not just a mission for him anymore but also something he craves?"

"In a manner of speaking." It was as close as she'd come to comprehending the horror with which Lundquist's sister had met her end.

"Then I shall be sure to heed your warning, Mr. Croft, and will warn other women to do the same."

"Maybe encourage them to join you at Reed's." It couldn't hurt for them to learn a few tips on how to defend themselves.

"I'll be sure to do so."

Neither said anything more after that. Sensing he ought to leave so she could enjoy the rest of her walk with her friends, Adrian drew to a halt after a few additional paces. "I believe I ought to get going."

"Very well." Was that a hint of regret in her voice? "It was lovely to see you again, Mr. Croft."

He tipped his hat. "Likewise, Miss Carmichael. I look forward to lunching with you tomorrow."

He wished both her and her friends a good afternoon and then strode for the exit, arriving on Kennington Lane five minutes later. Heading east, he paced the length of the wall until he'd taken ninety-two steps.

Here he stopped to inspect the masonry and quickly decided that finding a foothold on the brick wall would not have been easy. Scaling it would have been impossible without a ladder.

Not exactly the most inconspicuous item.

Adrian shook his head. It didn't look like Walker could have committed the crime either.

Unless...

He turned to stare back along the length of the street. All this time, he'd dismissed the killer's use of the entrances. He himself had concluded that the one leading through the Proprietor's House would have been an unlikely choice for anyone needing a quick in and out. Not only was it farther from the crime scene but accessing it required the use of a boat.

The Kennington Lane entrance, however, was easily accessible by carriage or on foot. He just hadn't considered it after Kendrick claimed Walker hadn't been in the park at the time of Miss Irvine's death.

But the admission clerk didn't take names and wouldn't have known if or when Walker arrived or left. So how could Kendrick be certain of his absence from the park during this timeframe?

Returning the way he'd come, Adrian spotted a tavern directly across from Vauxhall's main entrance. He proceeded toward it as soon as a break arose in the traffic. The dimly lit venue was only half full at this hour, its patrons clustered into small groups around a few tables.

As afternoon turned to evening, the place would likely begin to fill. Men would engage in card games and dice, laughter and conversation would make for a noisier atmosphere than what was presently found.

Retrieving his calling card from his jacket pocket, Adrian crossed to the counter and slid it toward the barkeep who busied himself with drying a glass. "I'd like to test your memory if you've a moment to spare."

The barkeep glanced at the card and nodded. He set the glass aside and braced both hands on the counter. "I'll do my best, Mr. Croft."

"A murder took place in Vauxhall last September."

"Aye. Bow Street sent a constable here around that time. Wanted to know who was here that night."

"Did they inquire about anyone in particular?" Adrian collected a couple of coins from his pocket and placed them on the counter. He waited until the barkeep grabbed them before leaning closer. "A Mr. Walker, perhaps?"

Recognition flashed in the barkeep's eyes. A slow nod followed. "A man who fit his description was present that evening between the hours of eight and midnight. He came with friends – a raucous bunch who were all deep in their cups by the time they left."

Four hours. From before Miss Irvine was reported missing and a good while thereafter. Kendrick must have interviewed Walker's friends, then stopped by here to double check their statements in order to determine the veracity of his alibi.

It seemed fairly solid. Walker had been here during the time of the murder. Enough people had seen him to ascertain his presence. Which made it impossible for him to be the culprit.

Adrian surveyed the space. According to the barkeep, Walker's group had enjoyed their fair share of drinks. They'd been foxed by the time they departed. Perhaps a bit sooner. Would such men even have noticed if one of them disappeared for a spell?

Frowning, Adrian made a quick calculation. The scene of the crime could likely be reached in about five minutes, provided one ran. But that would have drawn attention. As would a hurried stride.

A moderate pace should cover the distance in roughly ten. That made twenty for a round trip, plus whatever time was needed to commit the murder.

Half an hour, Adrian decided. That was the minimum Walker would have required. And since it had been a masquerade, he could have returned to the park unnoticed. Especially since the direction he would have been headed was off to one side, away from the popular paths.

But he'd still have had to sneak away without detection.

Adrian glanced at the barkeep. "I don't suppose you recall if Walker was gone for a lengthy duration that night?"

"Afraid not. This place gets pretty busy late in the evening. There's enough to see to without paying close attention to where all the customers are at a given moment."

"Of course." Adrian gave the barkeep a few additional coins. "Thank you for taking the time. Do you mind if I use your privy before I go?"

"Not at all." The barkeep gestured toward the left back corner. "It's straight through there."

The door he indicated led into a courtyard where two narrow structures with green wooden doors offered privacy to anyone needing to heed nature's call.

Adrian pulled one door open and scrunched his nose in response to the stench of piss that assailed him. At least the privy was clean besides that. The wooden seat above the cesspit even appeared to be newly lacquered.

After completing his errand, he found the pump in the courtyard and used it to rinse his hands. Which allowed him the time to stop and notice the gate in the fence sealing off one side of the courtyard.

He wiped his hands on the back of his trousers and went to undo the latch. Beyond was a narrow alleyway where the tavern kept its rubbish. It was no more than a couple of arms lengths wide, but it did provide a walkway between the tavern and the next building. One that led straight to Kennington Lane.

Adrian blinked. Walker could theoretically have left his friends inside, come through here, returned to Vauxhall wearing a mask, then rejoined his friends after killing Miss Irvine.

Could he have accomplished the feat without his friends questioning what would have been a lengthy absence?

Possibly, if they'd been as foxed as the barkeep suggested.

But what about bloodstains? The murder had been messy. If Walker had done it he would most likely have needed to clean up afterward, perhaps change his clothes, before returning to the tavern.

Unless he'd been calculating enough to remove his jacket and shirt first so he'd only had to wash the blood off his hands. That could have been done with the very same pump Adrian just used.

He pondered all this for a moment, then shut the gate and returned the way he'd come. His theory, while a stretch, did mean that Walker's alibi didn't hold up as well as Kendrick might think. The opportunity, however cumbersome, was there and as such, it could not be fully dismissed.