He was sitting in Robert’s study, which was an oasis of gentlemanly pursuits. It was late afternoon and he was still uncomfortably full of food. He was barely able to sip at his wine. There was a roaring fire, and the curtains had already been drawn. He was very warm, and almost half-dreaming.
Robert was sitting in the other leather armchair, drinking hot mulled cider from a thick cup. “There is more money because there are more people; and more people come here because there is more money.”
“The crime is different to the countryside.”
“Of course it is. The business is different.”
Theodore frowned. “I thought I had the start of a very erudite and clever observation but I seem to have lost my train of thought.”
“Are you still concerned with the matter of the murder?”
“No. I’ve thought about what you said. Perhaps it is the alcohol talking but at the moment I am inclined to say that I am letting that drop completely – if you are sure?”
“Yes,” said Robert firmly. “I am very sure.”
“Adelia wants her answers, though.”
“She is a determined woman.”
“Charlotte is almost equally so...”
Robert smiled. “Charlotte is a great help to me. She backs me up in all things though sometimes I wish...”
They were interrupted by a light tap at the door, and a maid who didn’t usually have to leave the kitchen curtseyed at them. “Begging your pardons, sirs, my lords, there’s a man in some distress who’s insistent that you are at home to see him but I didn’t think you were at home but he said that you had to be and that he’d wait until you were back at home, which won’t work as you aren’t out. Sir.”
Robert smiled indulgently. “And his name?”
“Oh! My lord! Sorry! It’s a Mr Wiseman.”
Robert sat forward and nodded at Theodore. “Well. How curious. I suppose we ought to see what the fellow wants. Is he in the downstairs receiving room?”
The maid looked startled. “He’s on the front doorstep, my lord.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Bring him in and ask cook to sort out a tray of refreshments – no, don’t do it yourself, we don’t want to offer our guest three half-peeled carrots and a mousetrap. Thank you, Lily.”
“Perhaps this is not over,” said Theodore as he got stiffly to his feet.
“I hope it’s just a case of having our final questions answered. As to the murder itself, we will never see justice done. But it is what it is. Let us go down.”
“MR WISEMAN! HOW WONDERFUL to see that you are looking so much better! I trust you are now fully recovered?” Theodore said as they all got shown into the receiving room at the same time by the confused maid.
“Thank you, yes. Lord Calaway, Lord Lassiter; thank you so much for seeing me, and I bring the compliments of the season to you.” He handed over a small gift, a bottle of rather good whisky, to Robert. “No one can visit empty-handed at this time.”
“Goodness. A very nice vintage. We’re not worthy. Please, sit down.” Robert played maid, sorting the chairs around the fire and prodding it with a poker to stir the embers into more life. “Mr Wiseman, what can we do for you? This is an unexpected call.”
“Yes and I apologise for the intrusion, hence the whisky. It’s about Digby Nettles. I am sure that you guessed that already.”
“Go on.”
“And it’s about the note that you found ... and that I lied to you.”
Robert exclaimed, “Ha!” and then apologised for his outburst.
“Did you realise?” Mr Wiseman asked.
Theodore nodded. “Yes. Your reaction, when we challenged you, gave you away. You did indeed send the note to Mr Nettles, saying you should meet to discuss the common enemy you both shared. Why did you send that note?”
“It wasn’t to murder him! It was exactly as it appears. There are many people jostling for dominance in all businesses, and crime is no exception. Indeed, as one looks more deeply, there is barely a clear line between what counts as crime and what is merely a very successful company or ruthless businessman. Or, in this case, woman.”
“Woman?” said Robert, gripping the arms of his chair. “But...”
Mr Wiseman nodded. “Oh, you already know her and indeed I suspect this will not surprise you in the least when you consider the matter. I speak of Lady Purfleet, of course.”
“Of course,” said Theodore, nodding. No, he was not surprised, now it had been spoken in the open. Adelia had been suggesting as much for a few days. Her name was the first on everyone’s lips when they spoke of the business of buying and selling paintings, after all. What did surprise him, however, was quite how she managed it.
Such a thought had also occurred to Robert, who said, “But how exactly could she possibly be an enemy of yours, or of Mr Nettles? Both of you are – in his case, were – recognised dealers. She is merely the patroness of many a salon, and keen supporter of the arts, but she cannot possibly sully her hands with the actual buying and selling of works.”
“And yet that is exactly what she does,” said Mr Wiseman. “Oh, I have had my suspicions for many years but never any proof. She is a puppet-master, controlling sales and managing imports, paying bribes to officials, facilitating the transfer of goods and paperwork. And more; it is at her word, I truly believe, that those who get in her way are despatched.”
“Despatched?”
“You know what I mean. They are dealt with. She is ruthless. Now, I am a small dealer, and our paths did not often cross. I have lost a few deals to her machinations but as she works through proxies, I was often unaware of the person behind it. A few months ago, a painting by a celebrated artist of
