A Murder on London Bridge by Susanna Gregory

Author:Susanna Gregory [Gregory, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780748124565
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2011-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Frustrated that he had been unable to exact more information from Phillippes, Chaloner went to the Bear tavern to consider what he had learned. He was inclined to believe Phillippes’s testimony regarding Blue Dick, because his description of the killer’s clothing and demeanour matched what he has witnessed himself. So that, combined with what the Earl had seen, meant Edward probably had stabbed Blue Dick. And Thurloe had been right about Kaltoff’s drawing – even if it did depict Blue Dick, it meant nothing other than that Kaltoff had thought him a good subject to caricature.

He rubbed his chin. So Phillippes – and Kaltoff by extension – were innocent of Blue Dick’s murder, and it was for some other business that they had not wanted to be watched in the Beggar’s Bush. Was it the gold in Chapel House? He recalled Phillippes’s words to Kaltoff: ‘you know what is at stake’ and ‘you know what we stand to lose, should we be found out’. He might well have been referring to the discovery of a fortune, and his nervousness derived from that fact that the Dowager was probably after the same thing. In other words, he did not want her to know that he and Kaltoff intended to have it first.

Thoughts of Chapel House led Chaloner to consider Junior Warden Scarlet and Jane. Was treasure the reason the Dowager had ordered the building’s refurbishment, obliging them to take lodgings elsewhere? Did the couple know what was in their home, and Jane had been assaulted because they refused to share the secret?

Knowing he had been remiss in not speaking to Scarlet sooner, Chaloner left the tavern, and headed for Bridge House. But his journey was in vain, because not only was Scarlet not at his place of work, he was not at home, either – Hussey had sent a servant to find out why he had failed to arrive that morning. No one knew where he was, although Chaloner learned from the Bridge clerks that the hapless man had taken to wandering off alone since the attack on his wife.

Feeling the need to discuss the case with someone whose opinion he valued more than any other, Chaloner headed for Lincoln’s Inn and Thurloe. He nodded a friendly greeting to the porter on the gate, then made his way to Chamber XIII.

He loved the ex-Spymaster’s rooms. They overlooked a pretty yard called Dial Court, and had a familiar, comforting odour of beeswax and wood smoke. Full of oak panels, sturdy furniture and books, they were the one place in London that Chaloner felt truly safe.

He knocked on the door, but Thurloe took a long time to answer, and when he did, he opened it only a crack. The ex-Spymaster’s face was flushed, and he had abandoned his customary sober browns for a suit of pale blue. Usually, he preferred the simpler styles of the Commonwealth, but that day, his falling band boasted an impressive amount of frill, and the lace at his cuffs was pure elegance.

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