Christopher nodded. “I don’t know them. I probably wouldn’t be talking much anyway.”
“What about me?” I wanted to know, since my name hadn’t come into this at all so far. “I was there, too, you know.”
“But you won’t be here for this,” Tom said. “They’re much more likely to talk freely without your presence.”
“Oh, wonderful.” I stuck my bottom lip out. “I’ll just sit at home alone and wait to be murdered, shall I? What if the killer really is Rivers, and he comes for me?”
“Evans will stop him in the lobby,” Christopher said.
“He didn’t stop anyone who wanted to come upstairs yesterday.”
“That’s true. Perhaps it’s better if you stay with us. Just not in the same room.”
“You want me to skulk next door again?”
“I’ll be skulking next door,” Tom said, “and so, I imagine, will Finchley. You’re welcome to join us.”
In that case…
“I would be delighted to skulk with you,” I said.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Once we had hashedout the verbiage (and Tom had officially approved it), Crispin penned the notes to Blanton and to the combination of Hutchison and Ogilvie and dispatched them with two of Sutherland House’s footmen, who were told to request a reply from each recipient. While we waited for them to come back, we polished off the food Rogers had brought into the green parlor earlier, and went over the plan in more detail. By the time each footman returned with the response that the recipients would be here at nine that evening, we were still sitting around the table batting about ideas for how to bring up the various subjects Tom wanted introduced.
But once it became clear that we—or Crispin—would indeed be hosting the murder suspects to Scotch and cigars—or more likely cigarettes—that evening, Tom got to his feet and stretched. “I’d better go. I’ll have to talk this plan over with Chief Inspector Pendennis before we can move forward. And he’ll need to get the commissioner onboard, I daresay. We’ll be tricking the children of some very upstanding citizens into making admissions about all sorts of illegal behavior. Wouldn’t want to do that without official approval.”
“Is there a chance that your superiors won’t allow things to go forward?” I asked, as Tom shrugged into the tweed jacket he had taken off before sitting down at table.
“They can’t do anything about St George hosting friends for the evening. Even if they’re people Scotland Yard suspects of being complicit in one or more crimes. The worst case scenario is that I’m told I can’t be here. If I can’t?—”
“I’ll take notes. And we’ll all try to remember everything we can of what they say.”
“If anyone confesses to murder,” Christopher added, “obviously we won’t forget that.”
Tom nodded. “I’ll most likely be back here by eight, at the latest. I have to check in with the boss, and with Finch on how he did on tailing Dominic Rivers, and on anything new that might have come up in either investigation. There are people going door to door in Ellery Mews and people talking to everyone who was arrested at Rectors. All we need is a single break, just one person who saw something definitive…”
He trailed off, wistfully. The three of us who were left exchanged glances.
“We’ll figure it out,” Christopher said. He cleared his throat diffidently. “Would you like me to take you to Westminster in St George’s motorcar? He won’t mind if I borrow it, I’m sure.”
The expression on Crispin’s face indicated that yes, he did mind, although to his credit he didn’t say the words out loud.
“That’s not necessary,” Tom said. “It’s not a long walk, and I daresay the fresh air and exercise will help me prepare my case for the commissioner.”
Christopher nodded. “Let me walk you out, then.”
They headed out together. Tom fetched his hat from Rogers and then the front door closed behind them.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Kit hangs on all the way to the Embankment,” Crispin said.
I wouldn’t, either, but it didn’t seem very nice to say so. “I’m sure Tom will send him back before they get that far. He’ll turn around at the next corner, most likely.”
“Would you care to make a wager?” Crispin wanted to know. “I’ll give you excellent odds on him not coming back for an hour, at least.”
“I have better things to do with my money than risk losing it to you,” I said severely, “and you should be more careful with the Sutherland fortune than that.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t see why, Darling. There’s plenty of it. More than I can use up in a lifetime, even in particularly riotous living.”
