***
“The guv’s asking for you,” Sergeant Pierce said to Fellows, looking apologetic. “Says now, sir.”
Damnation. Fellows looked up from the fifty statements he was going over again, meticulously, trying to decide who was telling the truth. They were all lying—people did that to the police—but usually for reasons that had nothing to do with the case. Fellows had to sift through and pick out the important lies from the unimportant ones.
He’d been here since the early hours, after going home last night and trying to sleep. Not possible. Fellows had lain awake, staring at the whitewashed ceiling above his bed, which reflected every passing light, the moon, streetlights.
In the reflections he saw Louisa, her red hair coming down, the sultry look in her eyes when he’d lain her back on the desk. He heard her voice, low and vibrant, saying his name. Lloyd.
He’d do anything to have her say it to him like that again.
Sleeping being out of the question, Fellows had come in to see if he could make sense of all this mess.
“Now?” Fellows repeated irritably.
“Yes, sir. Says it’s urgent.”
Fellows heaved an aggrieved sigh, slammed papers aside, got to his feet, and headed out of the room. Constable Dobbs was just coming in with cups of tea, and the two met in the doorway. Fellows turned sideways to move past him. Dobbs turned red. The constable’s hands shook so hard that tea sloshed from the full cups and splashed to Fellows’ shoes.
“Watch yourself, Constable,” Fellows snapped, then he was past and striding down the hall.
Detective Chief Superintendent Giles Kenton had been Fellows’ superior for nearly five years. It had been Kenton who’d lifted his former superior’s restrictions on Fellows’ promotions, put in place when Fellows had been fanatically pursuing the Mackenzies for murder.
Kenton had made clear that Fellows needed to have a care in who he offended with his obsessive investigations. Kenton was a good man to work for, though, because he recognized that Fellows had a unique way of solving his cases and that his clear-up rate was better than most.
Kenton waved Fellows to the only other chair in his office, keeping his attention on the papers that littered his desk. That was a good sign. No sitting upright, hands on the desk, gaze trained on Fellows. Just Kenton doing what he usually did.
Kenton signed a piece of paper, blotted the paper, and clattered the pen to a tray, spraying a few ink droplets to his desk. Finally he pushed aside everything and looked up at Fellows.
Not so good. Kenton had a sharp light in his eyes that came from anger. “I’m pulling you and your team off the Hargate case,” he said.
Fellows’ answer was abrupt and instant. “No. You can’t. I mean . . . No, sir. Please don’t.”
“I can and I will. Hargate was powerful, and his family is powerful, both his father’s and his mother’s. His friends are powerful. They are all busily screaming for our blood, wondering why we haven’t closed this case yet.”
Fellows couldn’t stay seated. He was on his feet, fists clenched. “It’s been less than a week. Cases like this can take months. Years. You know that.”
“Yes, I know that. Civilians don’t, especially posh ones. They either want the police to work miracles or else they complain we’re a bloody nuisance.”
“Then they should let me get on with my job. Having my chief super pull me in to twit me is wasting time.”
Kenton gave him a severe look. “Are you finished?”
Fellows leaned his fists on the desk. “You can’t take me off this case, sir.”
“Listen.” Kenton’s voice lost its edge. “Fellows, you are the best detective on the force. I don’t even qualify that by saying you are one of the best. You truly are the best. You’ll make detective superintendent in no time, probably chief super beyond it, and likely higher than that. You’re the best because you not only have good instincts, you’re also careful and thorough. You follow up on everything. Unfortunately, Hargate’s family wants a quick arrest. And they’re wondering why the devil you haven’t made one.”
“Because I haven’t found a culprit yet,” Fellows said, trying not to shout. “As soon as I get a lead on the man seen crawling out from under the tent, I’ll bring him in.”
“Hmm, yes. Very convenient this bloke is, isn’t he? He gives you a good excuse not to pull together the evidence to arrest Lady Louisa Scranton.”
“Because she didn’t do it.” The shout came then.
“Maybe not. But consider—once she’s arrested and examined by a magistrate, and the magistrate determines her innocence, she’ll be let go. End of the matter.”
Fellows shook his head. “For God’s sake, you know she can’t afford to appear before a magistrate. He’ll be compelled by Hargate’s family to push her through to a trial, and they’ll make sure the very best prosecutor in the country gets her convicted. The Scrantons haven’t been well liked since Louisa’s father ruined half the aristos in Mayfair. No one would fuss much if a Scranton was buried for this.”
“Then Lady Louisa’s family will come up with a barrage of solicitors to help her. You know that. Her ties to the Mackenzies will help too. And those ties are the exact reason I’m taking you off this case.”
Fellows stood up, his fists tightening. “What the devil does that mean?”
“It means that you are the finest detective on the force—until you have something to do with the Mackenzie family. Then your common sense takes a dive out the window. You break rules, you don’t sleep, you focus your energy on them and everything about them. Five years, wasn’t it, that you tried to pin a murder on them? The duke had to threaten gents in the Home Office to get you to stop. And then you went behind everyone’s back, chased Lord Ian Mackenzie to Paris, and tried a number of ways to get around the rules to land him.”
“But I got to the bottom of the problem,” Fellows said, voice stiff. “Murders solved. Case closed.”
“You’re quibbling, Fellows. You solved them, all right, but a woman died, and another nearly died in the process. I’m taking you off the case, because I can’t explain to Hargate’s father—an earl—and his mother—the daughter of a marquis—why you haven’t arrested Lady Louisa Scranton by now. I imagine you don’t wish me to tell them it’s because she’s your mistress.”