Free Rosemary Stevens by Murder in the Pleasure Gardens Page A

glanced up from the carrots. Today she wore a blue cotton gown, her dark red hair tied into a severe knot on the top of her head. “That was good of you, Mr. Brummell. The poor young man should not be made to suffer for a crime he didn’t commit.”
    “I did what I could, but I want to do more. Molly, did you go to Bow Street this morning to give your statement?”
    “Yes.”
    “Were you able to find out anything more?”
    “Not a thing,” she said, putting the bread into a baking tin. “That Mr. Read was there, as well as Miss Lavender’s father. I told them what happened, over and over. They kept acting like there was something I wasn’t saying, but there wasn’t.”
    “I can imagine,” I said.
    Molly turned her almond-shaped dark eyes on me. “What’s going to happen to Nicky, Mr. Brummell? How are we going to get him out of prison?”
    “We must find someone else who wanted Mr. Jacombe dead,” I told her.
    The knife Miss Lavender had been using to slice the carrots fell to the kitchen floor with a clatter.
    “You did not cut yourself, did you?” I asked in concern.
    “No, I am just clumsy today, it seems,” Miss Lavender said. Then she picked the knife up from the floor, put it in the sink, and got out a clean one. She resumed chopping the vegetables in a methodical fashion.
    “As to having the lieutenant released from prison,” I said, “I went to see his grandfather. The man was not very helpful, I am afraid.”
    “He’s a bitter, unfeeling old man,” Molly replied hotly. “He thinks only of his precious money.”
    “And of his lost son,” I reminded her.
    “It’s all the same, isn’t it? Mr. Nevill’s son, Nicky’s father, was involved in some banking deal that went bad. It almost cost old Mr. Nevill his fortune. Nicky told me all about it. His grandfather had to help his father, Mr. Nevill junior, out of it. In fact, I forgot all about this before, but I’m pretty sure Mr. Jacombe was involved somehow.”
    “Mr. Jacombe?” I said, instantly alert.
    Molly narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Yes. Yesterday at the prison, Nicky told me that the only time he’d even heard the name Jacombe, before he met the man at your club, was in a conversation he overheard between his father and his grandfather years ago. He thought it may not have even been the same Jacombe. At any rate, it all had to do with a bank Mr. Jacombe was operating at the time. This was all years ago. That’s all I know.”
    “I wish I had known this before I went to see Mr. Nevill. It might be important. But no matter. I shall find out more about it.”
    Molly shrugged. “I don’t see how it can matter now. Miss Lavender, I’ve finished with the bread. Can I go see Nicky?”
    “Sure you may,” Miss Lavender said with a faint smile.
    Molly took off her apron, thanked me for my help with the lieutenant, and hurried from the room, leaving Miss Lavender and me alone.
    “Miss Lavender, how are you today?”
    “I’m fine,” she said. “Anxious about the lieutenant, like everyone else.”
    I sensed there was more going on than worry over the lieutenant, but I could not put my finger on what it was. “I wonder what Bow Street found out about the operator of the Cascade.” I threw this out, not expecting the investigator’s daughter to share any Bow Street secrets.
    “Seamus O’Toole. A known drunk. He didn’t see or hear anything, including the gunshot, he was in such a drink-induced fog. Father had to bring him round to consciousness when he found the lieutenant holding the gun. O’Toole’s been employed at Vauxhall for two years and hasn’t caused any trouble, despite his propensity for drink. Apparently he has his drinking timed well so he can still perform his duties before becoming oblivious.”
    I stood stunned. Miss Lavender never reveals anything in regard to her father’s work. Yet here she was, telling me everything her father had apparently shared with her. Even her desire to see Nevill freed