D. Jackson - Thieftaker

He had never met Cyrus Derne or his father, but he knew them as soon as they turned a far corner onto Bennet’s Street. They were both well-dressed in ditto suits as was the current fashion. The younger Derne’s was beige; Derne the Elder wore dark blue. Both men sported dark cloaks and black tricorn hats with elaborate black cockades, and both carried canes tipped with brass. The men were of medium height, the father thicker in the middle and heavier of face. The son was lean, the long gray hair of his wig framing a square chin and high cheekbones. Ethan could see how a young woman might be drawn to him.

Father and son spoke in low tones as they walked, oblivious of all around them. When they were only a few paces from where Ethan stood, he cleared his throat loudly to draw their attention.

The older Derne halted immediately, a frown clouding his face. The son slowed, but put himself between Ethan and his father, firmly gripping his cane.

“Is there something I can do for you?” the younger Derne asked in a strong, cold voice.

“I hope so,” Ethan said, smiling so that his lip and cheek hurt. “I’m looking for Cyrus Derne.”

The younger man hesitated for only a moment, although the knuckles on the hand holding his cane whitened even more.

“You’ve found him.”

“Forgive me if I’ve alarmed you, Mister Derne. My name is Ethan Kaille. Abner Berson has hired me-”

“Of course, Mister Kaille,” the younger Derne said, striding forward and offering a hand. “Mister Berson told me he intended to hire you. Terrible business. I’m still…” He shook his head. “Well, I’m at a loss for words. Jennifer was quite dear to me, as Mister Berson might have told you.”

“He did. I’m terribly sorry for you loss.”

“Thank you.”

The elder Derne joined them and offered a hand as well, even as he examined Ethan’s face.

“You look like you’ve had quite a day, Mister Kaille,” the older man said.

“Yes, sir, I have.” He was growing weary of hearing comments on his cuts and bruises, and he had yet to see Diver or Kannice. “If I may, Mister Derne,” he said to the son, “I would like to ask you a few questions. I won’t keep you long.”

Cyrus and his father exchanged glances.

“Of course,” the young man said. “Would you mind if we walked? I’ve spent most of my day in our offices; I wouldn’t mind a bit of air.”

“That’s fine, sir. Thank you. A pleasure meeting you, sir,” Ethan said to the elder Derne, “despite the circumstances.”

The elder Derne smiled coldly, glanced once more at his son, and then walked toward the house.

“Shall we?” Cyrus said, gesturing with an open hand for Ethan to lead the way. “I take it you’ve already spoken with Mister Berson.”

“I’ve just been at his home.”

“And you came straight to me.” The younger Derne’s smile was much as his father’s had been a few moments before. “Should I make anything of that?”

“I assure you it was simply a matter of convenience. I don’t spend much time in the North End. And with the Berson home so close to yours-”

“It’s all right, Mister Kaille. I was attempting a joke. Apparently I failed.” They came to a corner and continued down Fleet Street toward the wharves. “You have questions for me,” Cyrus prompted.

“Yes, sir. When did you last see Miss Berson?”

“Yesterday,” the man said. “I had some business elsewhere in the city that required my attention, but I wished to see her. I try-” He winced. “I tried to see her each day, even when we hadn’t made plans as such. I stopped by late-several hours past midday. We spoke briefly in the sitting room. She wanted to go for a walk, but by then it was growing late, so we sat and…” He paused, looking thoughtful. “And then I left.”

“Did she mention that she intended to leave the house?”

Cyrus shook his head. “No.”

“So you don’t know why she would venture out after dark.”

He stared at the street before them, shaking his head again. “For the life of me, I do not.”

“Do you often have business that takes you into the streets at night, sir?”

Cyrus smirked. “You’re bold, Mister Kaille.” He looked away, so that he was staring straight ahead. They turned another corner and walked past a line of warehouses. The smell of the harbor was heavy here. Flocks of gulls perched on rooftops, preening and crying out mournfully, and a lone osprey circled overhead. “Occasionally, yes. I’m a merchant, from a family of merchants. The Dernes have business in every part of Boston, as well as in Newport, Providence, Norfolk, Newbury, Hartford, even Halifax. And our business doesn’t always end with the setting of the sun.”

“Can you tell me where you were last night?”

“I’m not inclined to, no,” Derne said in a flat voice, his expression unchanged. Still, Ethan could tell that the merchant’s patience had started to run thin.

Ethan said nothing, allowing the silence to stretch on until Derne seemed to grow uncomfortable.

“If you must know,” Derne said at last, “I was home. My father will confirm that if you ask him.”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t think I need trouble him.”

“Have you asked similar questions of the brutes who were abroad last night, behaving like savages and showing themselves capable of the worst kind of violence and mischief?”

“Not yet,” Ethan said. “But I will.”

“Good,” Derne said brusquely. “It seems to me more than coincidence that poor Jennifer should be killed the same night that rabble was rampaging through the streets.”

“Yes, sir. Do you know if Miss Berson had any other suitors-anyone who might have been angered by how close the two of you had grown?”

Derne halted and faced him, forcing Ethan to stop, too. “Are you trying to offend me?” the merchant demanded, his voice low. “Do you find all of this amusing?”

“Neither, sir,” Ethan said evenly. “But Mister Berson is paying me a great deal, and I believe that obligates me to explore every possibility. I’ve no doubt that Miss Berson was devoted to you. But would it be so surprising that a woman of beauty and intelligence and, yes, means, might attract men possessed of less honor than you?”

Derne regarded him a moment longer, and then began walking again. Ethan fell in step beside him. They walked in silence for some time, turning another corner, so that the waters of the harbor were now behind them.

At last Derne exhaled softly and shook his head. “Is it your profession that makes your mind work as it does?”

“Sir?”

“Looking for betrayal and falsehood. Thinking the worst of people. I would think that spending your life among the criminal element would color your perceptions of everyone, even someone like Jennifer.”

“I think no ill of her, sir.”

“Perhaps,” Derne said coldly. “But your questions can hardly be deemed flattering.” He looked at Ethan briefly. “You’re right, of course. It is conceivable that she had other suitors of whom I knew nothing, and that one of them did her harm. It’s not a possibility I’ve considered. I would like to tell you out of hand that there was no one, but I don’t know for certain. Satisfied?”

“I take no satisfaction in offending you, sir. You have my word on that.”

Derne appeared unconvinced. “Did you ask her father about any of this?”

“I did. He said he knew of no one. But I thought perhaps he sought to protect her, or that maybe she had hidden such things from him.” Ethan shrugged. “There probably was no one. I apologize for upsetting you.” This last he added for Derne’s benefit. In fact, angering the man had served its purpose. He now knew Cyrus Derne’s composure could be shaken. That knowledge might eventually prove valuable.