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Hooper did not argue with that. He knew it was true. The Thames yielded up many bodies, but no one knew how many it kept.
“They called the police,” Monk went on, still standing in the same spot. “Runcorn. He’s going to help us with the case. I told him she was connected with the bank that Doyle works in, and she was bringing me some papers. Of course, they’ll be sodden now, but perhaps still legible. Runcorn has them, as he’s taken on investigating Bella’s death.”
“You think they might prove Doyle has the money?” Hooper said doubtfully. “Surely he wouldn’t put it in his own bank? And why kill Kate in the first place?” But the answer was obvious. “You think she saw him, and of course she’d recognize him immediately. That was stupid of him. If she hadn’t, they would have given her back and got clear away.” It made no sense to him. “Something happened…”
Monk moved at last. He walked over to the pot of tea sitting on the hob and poured himself a mug, then came back to Hooper, carrying it in his hand. “I don’t think Doyle took all the money. Maybe some. Payment for his part in it,” he went on.
“What? As extra muscle for the fight on Jacob’s Island?” Hooper said with open disbelief. “A local bank manager?”
Monk was too tired for sarcasm. He sat down in the second chair and sipped at his tea, not even noticing how stewed it was. “No, and the risk of being seen was obvious. I think he found the ideal victim for the kidnappers—that’s what he was paid for—and of course maybe by Exeter, too, for help with the ransom…” His voice trailed off, heavy with disgust.
“Kate Exeter? Why?” Although Hooper thought he knew.
“Harry Exeter. A man who had a lot of money in liquid assets that he could lay his hands on in a matter of days, without having to sell anything, which takes time and draws attention. And Exeter is a man who loved his wife to the degree that he wouldn’t try to bargain or trap them. He’d just do it, no questions asked,” Monk explained.
Hooper weighed this in his mind. “Then it was Doyle who knew Bella Franken had seen the books and worked out how he fiddled them, and he who followed her and killed her. Have you told Exeter yet?”
“No, but I think he won’t be surprised. He lost his wife, a friendship he trusted, and his money, all in one night.” Pity appeared naked in Monk’s eyes for a moment. “And we still don’t know who betrayed us. That can’t have been Doyle. We were the only ones that knew exactly what we were going to do, where we were going in, what route. He’s probably never been to that part of the r
iver in his life. How many men have? Most avoid the place like a plague pit!”
Hooper did not reply immediately. What they had deduced made sense, but it was very far from being enough to arrest anyone. There were pieces missing that could be any shape, any size, and alter the meaning in almost any way at all. The papers Runcorn had taken from Bella’s drowned body were now in the hands of an accountant.
“We’re going over to Greenwich to see Runcorn,” Monk interrupted Hooper’s thoughts. “See if he’s got anything at all.”
* * *
—
IT WAS A SHORT trip over the river and then a quick walk up from the pier to the Greenwich Police Station. It took them well over half an hour, even at a brisk speed, and the watery sun was rising in pale colors across the river as they arrived at the door. Runcorn was waiting for them, as were several other men. Greenwich was on the river, so the River Police and the regular police quite often cooperated with each other; only occasionally was there a clash of jurisdiction. Today was going to be one of the better collaborations. Everyone knew of the Jacob’s Island kidnap case, and of the critical things the newspapers had said of the River Police’s failure to capture the men responsible. Everyone received such blame at one time or another, but it never got any easier, particularly when you felt the fault yourself most clearly of all.
Hot tea was handed round, and thick slices of bread were toasted at the open door of the stove.
“Right,” Runcorn began. “Police surgeon doesn’t have a lot to tell us. Healthy young woman, poor soul.” His voice caught for a moment and he swallowed and moved on. “Neck was broken. No water in her lungs. I assume that was a mercy. No other damage that he could see, so it looks as though she never put up a fight. Caught unawares, like—”
“Or it was somebody she trusted,” Monk cut in.
“That’s interesting, sir,” Hooper replied. “?’Cos if she was bringing the papers she said she was, she couldn’t have trusted Mr. Doyle.”
Most of the half-dozen men in the room twisted round to look at him. He had spoken out of turn, but he was right.
“Took her from behind?” one of the men suggested. He looked at Monk. “Was he the sort of person to trust someone else to do his dirty work—hands-on stuff? Got to trust a man a lot to give him that kind of knowledge over you.”
Hooper stared at him. Something of the inflection in his voice started a memory, but he could not place it. He looked at the man’s face and could recall nothing. He was blunt-featured, with sandy-colored hair and deep-set eyes. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken and not properly set.
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Monk replied. “But then, I didn’t think he had anything to do with it at all, until a few days ago.”
“What happened to change your mind?” Runcorn asked.
Monk answered immediately. “I realized how ideally Doyle was placed to know exactly who could pay such a ransom. He could handle it himself, so he would know precisely how the deal was to be done. And I think Exeter saw that for the first time also. The whole case is riddled with betrayals.”
No one argued with him.
“All to do with money, or do you think there were emotional issues as well?” The man looked first at Monk, then at Hooper. He was the same man who had caught Hooper’s eye before, the man with the crooked nose. Had he worked with him at some time?
Hooper waited to see if Monk would answer. Meanwhile his mind raced. He thought of what Celia Darwin had implied about Kate’s feelings.
They were waiting for Monk to answer, the man with the crooked nose in particular.
