Paige Robin: Death At Epsom Downs

“Fingerprint records aren’t much of an improvement,” Charles remarked. “And even if the Yard takes up fingerprinting, the courts will still have to accept it as evidence. And that is some distance in the future.”

Kate frowned. “It’s all well and good to have the fingerprints on the gun-they might be of some help. But isn’t the first task to match the gun to the crime? How is that to be done without-”

“Without the fatal bullet?” Charles reached into his pocket and took out a bullet, putting it on the table. “Here it is, Kate. Taken yesterday from Badger’s body by Dr. Stubbings. We’ll fire a test round and see whether we can determine any similarities.”

Murray was even more gloomy. “The experts at the Yard don’t think ballistics evidence counts for much, either. And no court in England has ever been presented with a case involving such a thing. However, it won’t hurt to give it a try. There’s a first time for everything.” He put down his teacup and stood. “I don’t imagine any of us has a.41 caliber bullet handy for a test-firing, so I’ll just pop around to the gun shop before it closes.” He bowed to Kate. “Ma’am.”

When Murray had gone, Kate turned back to her husband, feeling a surge of excitement. “Charles, this is wonderful! Now that you have these pieces of physical evidence, you can confront Lord Hunt and force him to confess to killing-”

“Lord Hunt?” Absently, Charles got up from the sofa to get his fingerprint kit out of his satchel. “But Reggie Hunt didn’t kill Alfred Day.”

“He didn’t?” Kate frowned. “But I thought Mr. Murray said that Taratula belonged to Lord Hunt. Charles, I am very confused.”

His kit in his hand, Charles sat back down on the sofa. He seemed lost in thought. “Reggie Hunt owed a great deal of money to the man Mrs. Langtry calls Spider,” he said slowly. “In payment of the debt, Spider took Hunt’s estate and half his stable-including the horse, I suppose.”

Kate stared at Charles, wide-eyed. “Then who is Spider? And how did you find him out?”

“We learned Spider’s identity from Eddie Baggs,” Charles replied. “Baggs followed Badger out of the pub and was standing in the shadows at the back of the Great Horse. He saw, and heard, the entire encounter from beginning to end.”

“But that means that there’s an eyewitness!” Kate exclaimed excitedly, “and that none of this fingerprint or ballistics evidence matters! With the testimony of an eyewitness, any jury in the land will convict the man. Who is he, Charles?”

“His name,” Charles said soberly, “is Henry Radwick. He’s a moneylender-and quite a successful one, at that, judging from those who patronize him. Half of the members of the Jockey Club have been in the man’s debt at one time or another. Lord Hunt certainly isn’t the only one who has owed him money.”

“But why did he shoot Mr. Day?”

“According to Baggs, Radwick was in a violent temper. He had discovered that Badger was attempting to blackmail Mrs. Langtry. According to Baggs, as Radwick pulled the trigger, he shouted, ‘She’s mine, do you hear? I won’t let you hurt her!’ ”

“So it was a crime of passion,” Kate said, thinking of what she had heard through the drawing room window. Yes, the man who had declared that he would not let Lillie marry Suggie de Bathe was capable of killing someone in a fit of rage. She felt sure of that. There was something wrong with that scenario, though. The crime was committed with Lillie’s gun, coolly and deliberately taken from the drawer in her drawing room.

Kate frowned. “Spider-Radwick, I mean-stole Lillie’s gun. He anticipated using it. That doesn’t sound like a crime of passion. It sounds quite deliberate.”

“You’re right, Kate,” Charles replied. “By Radwick’s own admission, which you overheard, he was involved in the jewel theft and in Edward Langtry’s death. In fact, it’s entirely possible that he masterminded both, with or without Lillie’s prior consent. I’m conjecturing that Radwick knew something of Badger’s threat-although perhaps not the entire scheme-and that he took Lillie’s gun, anticipating its possible use. After all, if Radwick allowed Badger to blackmail her, how long would it be before Badger began making demands on him, as well?”

“But why Lillie’s gun?” Kate persisted. “A man of Spider’s resources-surely he could have found a different weapon.”

Charles shrugged. “Perhaps he felt some sense of dramatic irony, using Lillie’s gun to kill the man who threatened to betray her.”

“Or perhaps he felt he might use it to gain some hold over her,” Kate said quietly. “Perhaps he thought to keep her from marrying Suggie de Bathe, and persuade her to marry him instead. I wonder whether, after I left this afternoon, he boasted to Lillie that he murdered Alfred Day for her sake. Do you suppose he opened the drawer to show her the gun he used?”

Anticipating her next thought, Charles said, with a wry smile: “If he did, do you suppose he guessed that Lady Sheridan is now in possession of Mrs. Langtry’s derringer?”

Kate gave a little shrug. “There’s one thing I don’t quite understand, Charles. Why was Radwick called Spider?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Charles said. “There might be some kind of private association, of course. But the word ‘spider’ is also a perjorative term for moneylenders.”

“Lurking in the corners, I suppose,” Kate said thoughtfully. “Weaving webs to ensnare their innocent prey.”

“Something like that,” Charles said. “Although in this case, I suspect that the innocent are not quite as innocent as they might like to appear. Certainly Lord Hunt knew what he was doing when he laid his family’s estate as a pledge against a gambling debt.”

Kate pursed her lips. “When Radwick is tried, this whole ugly business is going to come out in the courts, isn’t it? His motive, and so on, I mean. Lillie will be called as a material witness, won’t she?” She paused, as the import of this idea began to sink in. “And then the whole thing will come out, won’t it, Charles? The jewel theft, Edward Langtry’s death-” Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she began to imagine all of the consequences of a murder trial in open court, with the press and the public looking on. “She’ll be ruined, Charles! Utterly ruined! Everyone knows that she’s still close to the Prince-it will be a terrible scandal.”

With a sigh that was both regretful and ironic, Charles opened his fingerprint kit. “Somehow I doubt it will come to that, Kate. I doubt it very much.”

Charles spent the better part of an hour that evening writing a careful and fully detailed report to Admiral Owen North. When it was done, he sat for a long time thinking about the implications of what he had written, about what should happen next, and about what was likely to happen next. At last, with an ironic twist to his mouth, he sealed the envelope and sent it by Mrs. Hardaway’s boy to the Jockey Club, where North was staying. That done, he and Kate, with Jack Murray, adjourned to the Stag Hotel for a passable dinner and a bottle of champagne, after which he and Kate retired alone to Hardaway House for their first private evening together in several days. It was a renewing respite that both of them cherished.