P. Elrod - The Hanged Man

“Mr. Jones is unavailable.”

She didn’t believe him. No need to tap into her ability to know that. It made no sense. “There’s something serious afoot.”

Lord Richard’s expression did not change, but neither did he contradict her. “Every murder is serious. Please report your initial impressions.”

“But-”

“I’m aware of regulations, but there is no reason to think you had anything to do with the crime. Please report to me the same as you would to Mr. Jones.”

So she did, beginning with her arrival. She felt as though another person had taken over to use her voice to speak. Alex recognized it as a means of getting through the unpleasantness without breaking down. That could come later, if it did come. For the present the emotional recusation was a comfort. She covered everything, even those horrid moments in the foyer until Fingate had gotten her away.

Lord Richard was silent for many long moments. Sleet ticked persistently on the roof and sides of the coach, and she felt the cold seeping into her limbs.

“I would hazard to think,” he said, “that you are wondering why Gerard Pendlebury was posing as a certain Dr. Kemp.”

“Indeed, sir, I want to know everything.” She hoped Lord Richard would respond to that, but he did not. “I last saw him-”

“A decade ago in Hong Kong. I am aware of your personal history, Miss Pendlebury, but so far as your father is concerned, I have no more information than you and am also mystified.”

“Perhaps my uncle Leo may be of help. He’s the elder brother.”

“Do you think your father communicated with him?”

She hesitated. “Not to my knowledge, sir.”

“A carefully chosen phrase. Why do you use it?”

“My uncle is at the Home Office.”

“A branch of government not given to sharing information.”

“None of them are. Father was once attached to the Foreign Office. When my mother died, he resigned and collected me, and we traveled, usually calling on embassies. I believe he was an unofficial envoy of some sort-or so I concluded years later. I must stress that if his trips were of a sensitive nature, Father never said anything to me. Neither has my uncle.”

“Do you think he would have not passed word to you about your father?”

Leo had his limits. “Family concerns come second to his duty. I don’t think he would, he is absolutely dedicated to his work.”

“Your uncle could be accused of being overly diligent.”

“Relations between myself and Father’s family have always been difficult, sir.”

Lord Richard’s mouth thinned ever so slightly. “It is their loss, then.”

Just how much did he know of her private life? She felt discomfited under the press of that unblinking gaze. A change of topic was overdue. “Sir, my father’s valet may be of immediate help in this inquiry. His name is Percival Fingate. He’s been in my father’s employ since before I was born. He’ll know everything.”

“Of that I have no doubt. One cannot keep anything from one’s servants.”

She’d planned to be at the Serpentine at nine of the clock, but this would make it unnecessary. Lord Richard had the authority to question the man. Alex was certain Fingate would be forthcoming in her presence. If allowed to stay, that is. She would argue for it.

Lord Richard tapped the door with his cane. The driver climbed down. Instructions were given to fetch Dr. Kemp’s valet; the driver passed the word, then returned to his bench. Shortly afterward Inspector Lennon could be heard bawling orders. A good deal of activity took place between the houses as the constables rushed about.

Lord Richard remained quiet, but Alex sensed his growing anger.

Both buildings were turned inside out. Fingate was gone. No one had noticed when. Alex guessed that it had been right after he’d given her that note.

“Why would he leave?” she wondered aloud.

Lord Richard said, “You tell me.”

“I can’t think why.”

“Do so, Miss Pendlebury. It is your job, after all. Remove your feelings from the facts and tell me why.”

She felt her face turn hot and red. “One might conclude he had something to do with the crime-which I will not believe. The man’s character is above reproach.”

“When you last saw him. Time changes people, twists them out of shape, turns saints into monsters, monsters into saints. You have no reason to assume-”

“Your pardon, sir, but neither do you. For all we know, Fingate might have been forced away against his will by the murderer and be lying dead in an alley hereabouts.”

“Then he will be found.” Lord Richard seemed to be unused to interruptions, staring in such a way as to make her feel like a bird under the hungry regard of a cobra.

But she did not back down. “If Fingate had a hand in this then I want him brought to justice, but I believe him to be the same honest and loyal man I once knew. I would urge … prudence.”

Who was she to make suggestions to the likes of Lord Richard? He could twitch his little finger and swat her sideways into the Psychical Fraud Section to catch out mediums at séances.

In a mild tone he asked, “Is precognition one of your gifts?”

“Not that I’m aware, sir.”

“Then the source of your recommendation would be…?”

“My instincts, sir.” She refused to feel foolish for stating the truth.

“Just so,” he murmured. “I am inclined to trust instinct in most situations. Whether this is such a situation is yet to be determined. Why prudence?”

A good question, and the answer required cold logic. “If treated as a fugitive rather than as a resource, he could be hurt. Fingate is clever and capable and I’m sure he’s aware that his departure will look bad. If he left of his own volition, then I have absolute confidence that he had an excellent reason.” She was risking much on that confidence by not mentioning the note; she should do so now. She really should. He’d clearly planned from the start to get away and meet her later. “Perhaps Fingate has knowledge of a suspect. His temper is such that he would go after that person himself rather than wait.”

“Seeking revenge?”

“Oh, no, sir. He would turn the other person over to the police. If he has taken himself away of his own accord, then he has done so as a hunter, not as a guilty man avoiding capture.”

“Or a fearful man avoiding the fate of his master. It has been ten years, Miss Pendlebury, since you last saw him.”

“Some people do not change, sir. Mr. Fingate is as constant as the north star.”

“In which case, his motives are well obscured by fog.”

“Which will clear, given time and more facts.”

Good God, the man cracked a smile . It had the quality of an involuntary facial tic, but Alex was heartened by his response. He seemed to be listening. She kept quiet, taking care not to open herself to catch a hint about his internal feelings. The temptation was there, but it was unconscionably rude, and, if he sensed it, unforgivable. She had no idea if Lord Richard possessed psychical talent, but it was best to not test things.

“Or,” he said, after some thought, “he is guilty and could not allow himself to be in the same room with a Reader once suicide was discounted in favor of murder. Or he knows who did the deed and is protecting that person. Perhaps he knew he would be unable to successfully lie to you and concluded his best course was to leave. There are a number of reasons to explain his actions.”

She wanted to protest, to defend Fingate, but Lord Richard’s tone, so soft that she could barely hear him, was speculative rather than accusatory. His colorless eyes were focused inward.

Then his attention was full on her again. “Whatever the causes, Mr. Fingate is required to aid the police in their inquiries. I will make sure Inspector Lennon understands that caution must be exercised in the search.”