As he stopped in front of The Shifty Bandit tavern, the door was thrown open and a man was thrown out, landing in a heap in front of him.
“Don’t you come back, you hear?” the man shouted before slamming the door closed.
Greydon went to assist the man in rising but he yanked back his arm. “Leave me be, Bloke,” he ordered, his voice slurring.
Rather than fight with the man, he sidestepped him and headed into the tavern. He opened the door and was greeted by a short man with a round belly.
“How can I help ye?” he asked.
“I am meeting someone here,” Greydon said, his eyes roaming over the few patrons in the hall. His eyes landed on a shadowed figure in the corner and he knew he had found his man.
The barkeep put his hand up. “If ye want to stay in here, ye got to order something to drink. We ain’t a tea shop.”
“Bring me a pint of ale.” Greydon brushed past the man and headed towards the corner.
His informant didn’t stand but instead remained in the shadows, sipping his drink.
Greydon pulled out a chair and tipped his head. “Wilson,” he greeted. “What do you have for me?”
Wilson smiled, revealing missing teeth. “What? No pleasantries?”
“Why did you bring me out here?” Greydon asked.
“I didn’t dare go to your townhouse,” Wilson replied. “It is far too posh for the likes of me.”
The barkeep placed a drink in front of him. “Will there be anything else?”
“Fetch me another drink since my friend is buying,” Wilson said.
Greydon reached into his jacket pocket and removed a few coins. He placed them on the table and the barkeep snatched them up.
“I will return shortly,” the barkeep said.
Once the man had stepped away, Greydon pushed his drink towards Wilson. “You can have mine as well.”
Wilson chuckled. “Is this watered-down ale not to your satisfaction, my lord?”
“We both know it is not.”
Reaching for his drink, Wilson brought it up to his lips. “I didn’t bring you here to chat, though. I have the information you requested.”
Now Wilson had his attention. “What did you discover?” Greydon asked.
“On the morning your brother was murdered, his wife went to visit him at the apartment,” Wilson shared.
“How can you be certain?”
“A shopkeeper informed me that a beautiful woman with black hair arrived in a crested carriage, bearing your coat of arms, and she parked in front of his store until half past the hour,” Wilson revealed.
Greydon leaned closer. “Did he say anything else?”
“The only thing else that he noticed was that the lady seemed agitated when she left the building,” Wilson responded.
“Did the shopkeeper happen to notice anyone else approach or depart from the building?” Greydon asked.
“No, but it wasn’t long after that he heard screaming from your brother’s apartment,” Wilson said. “And he was one of the first people up to see Lady Eugenie standing in front of the late Lord Rushcliffe’s body.”
“Why didn’t he tell the coroner this?”
