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There was an acrid scent on the air, which made Charles’s eyes tear up. This was it. He entered the tanner’s shop, at the very front. It was filled with bolts of leather. It smelled strongly. He knew, out back, there were vats, filled with all manner of vile mixture, for curing the hides that were sold in the front.
“What can I get you, My Lord?” the man behind the counter asked. He was a coarse-looking individual, dressed in plain clothes and a leather apron. He had mistaken Charles for one of the ton. Something which Charles meant to use to his advantage.
“I’m looking for a Matthew Rapson,” he replied, letting the man think him a lord, if only for the moment.
“What do you want to see Matt for?” the tanner asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.
“I’m a barrister,” he replied. “I need to ask him some questions in regards to a case.”
“One moment,” the man said, disappearing through a curtained doorway. Charles waited patiently, his hands still in his pockets.
The man returned with another coarse-looking young man, who looked no more than one-and-twenty at most.
“I imagine you’re here on behalf of His Grace?” Matthew Rapson asked. There was the slightest hint of anger in his tone.
“Yes,” Charles replied.
“He still mad? I told him I didn’t mean to do it,” he explained. “It was an accident.”
“Is there somewhere private that we could talk?” Charles asked, smiling at Rapson.
“Ain’t nothing I got to say that Mr. Gagney can’t hear,” Rapson replied, folding his brawny arms.
“You trust him?” Charles asked.
Rapson nodded. “I do. He’s been looking out for me in the time I’ve been here.”
Charles wanted Rapson to feel comfortable sharing information with him. He knew better than to intimidate him. It would get neither of them anywhere.
“There was a recent break in at the Duke’s estate in the country,” Charles said. “The Duke mentioned that you might have been upset at your firing.”
“I can tell you, now,” Mr. Gagney said. “He’s been here, working. He’s not left a single day since he’s started with me.”
“Have you sent the Duke any letters, of a threatening nature to his life?” Charles asked. The two eyed him in surprise. “I just need a simple yes or no. As soon as I’ve got it, I’ve done my job, and I can leave you be, Mr. Rapson.”
“I don’t wish him well, but I don’t wish him dead,” Rapson replied, shaking his head. When he said it, he looked Charles in the eye. Charles held his gaze, which was unflinching. Rapson wasn’t lying.
Charles nodded. “I believe you. Please understand that I needed merely to check. Since you have an alibi, I can assure His Grace that you are not at fault.”
“Anything else, then?” Rapson asked, visibly relaxing.
“Is there anyone whom you believe to have had reason to do something of the sort?” Charles asked. Now that they had rapport, perhaps Rapson could provide him with a clue.
“You said there was a break in?” Rapson replied. He was squinting as he thought.
“Yes. They painted a threat on the wall of the dining room.”
“What’d it say?”
“You’ll be dead by winter’s end,” Charles replied.
“Not much of a clue,” Rapson mused. “As you likely know from working for him, the Duke has wronged many. He believes that even God himself can’t touch him. He’s got enough money to make it seem so.”
“Anyone specific?”
“I’d start with the butler. He knows everything. He’s the one that arranges things for His Grace, if you know what I mean.”
“I will. Thank you for your help. The both of you.” Charles touched the brim of his hat. He pulled a business card from his pocket. “If anyone comes to mind, I would sincerely appreciate it if you could let me know.”
