Tom Wasp and the Murdered Stunner by Myers Amy

Author:Myers, Amy [Myers, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-04-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

In Which I Advance up the Chimney

‘I must confess, Mr Wasp—’ Mr Mudgwick turned a blind eye to the amount of sugar I was taking off the cone with his sugar-cutters for this cup of coffee—not a drink I am accustomed to. ‘—that I am at a loss.’

A gentleman of lesser breeding than Mr Mudgwick would have set a glass of beer before me. ‘At a loss,’ he repeated, in case by that method I might understand his drift without his saying more. He had summoned me to Lincoln’s Inn a week after our last meeting, and knowing he had the intention of speaking to the Angels about Valentine’s sad case, I was eager to hear his news. It was as clear as a dewdrop that if Valentine believed one of his fellow Angels guilty, if not of murder, then of being the father of Bessie’s boy, he had a point. Would Bessie have given herself to any other than this man she believed truly loved her? Had she visited him on the night she was murdered?

I myself had something to report to Mr Mudgwick, having taken it upon myself to visit Sergeant Wiley in the last few days. This had been a move of which Mr Mudgwick had been doubtful, as Scotland Yard had put one of their eight detective policemen on the case, once they realised a touch of quality was involved. To my mind, however, they would have little inclination to seek for a villain to prove Mr Drake innocent, since it doesn’t look well to arrest innocent gentlemen of Valentine’s standing. Sergeant Wiley, on the other hand, had every reason to want to find the true murderer himself, because of his indignation at the way his case was taken from him, first by Chelsea’s V Section, and then by Scotland Yard. It was not easy to converse with the sergeant, however, despite our common interest.

‘Not you again, sweepie. I thought you said you was only coming back to bring me the murderer.’ Loud guffaw. ‘What yer want this time?’ He held his nose delicately, an insult I ignored, as I explained what I’d come for. After he’d stopped laughing over my role as Mr Mudgwick’s private investigator, he finally gave some thought to the interests of Sergeant Wiley. His nose was left to sniff what it chose, a good sign that the sergeant agreed these interests could very well coincide with those of poor Valentine Drake. He even became quite cordial.

‘What sort of a bloke is this Moonman then?’

‘Fiftyish, big man by all accounts, round face, pulled down at one side. Occupation butcher in the Clare. Last known address the Brill. Bunting by name, but may not be using it.’

Sergeant Wiley smirked. ‘I’ll find him by suppertime,’ he says, using an ironical tone of voice.

‘I’ve faith in you, sergeant.’ So I had. He wouldn’t want to fail in front of a chimney sweep. ‘He’s known all right,’ I continued. ‘The problem is no one will talk, owing to the fact they have an objection to being garrotted for their pains.

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