Roscoe’s eyes were watchful. “And what’s your interest in the sale?”
“I’m acting for Lady Letitia Randall née Vaux, Randall’s widow.” Christian waved at Justin. “Lord Vaux is here as her surrogate.”
Roscoe’s gaze flicked to Justin. “The one with a warrant sworn against him for Randall’s murder?” His gaze shifted to Dalziel. “But of course, you’d know that.”
“Indeed,” Dalziel replied. “We also know someone else murdered Randall.”
Roscoe’s brows rose. That was news to him.
“We’re currently pursuing the avenue,” Christian smoothly went on, “that Randall was murdered because of the proposed sale.”
Roscoe met his eyes, then dropped all pretense of nonchalance; leaning his forearms on the desk, eyes narrowing, he was suddenly all business. “If that’s the case, obviously the murderer wasn’t me.”
Christian inclined his head. “Just so. But we need to learn all we can about the proposed sale in order to identify those most affected-at present there’s possibilities aplenty as to who might actually have done the deed.”
Roscoe’s gaze turned inward.
They waited.
“First,” he eventually said, his gaze lowering to fix on his hands, clasped on the desk, “I should clarify that, as matters stand, at some point I would, almost certainly, have made an offer for the Orient Trading Company-an offer Randall and his partners wouldn’t have been able to refuse.” Lifting his gaze, Roscoe met Dalziel’s eyes, then looked at Christian. “Randall and the others had worked diligently to establish themselves. They’d come a long way.”
“All the way from Hexham,” Christian said.
Roscoe smiled; that had indeed been the information he’d been probing for. “You discovered that, did you?”
“Indeed. And you?” Christian asked.
“Only recently.” Roscoe met Dalziel’s eyes. “I make it a point of learning all I can about those I propose to do business with.”
“So you approached Randall?” Dalziel continued the interrogation.
Roscoe shook his head. “I would have eventually-there’s many who’ll tell you that. But I didn’t have to make overtures. Randall came to me-or rather, he let it be known in the right quarters that he and his partners were interested in selling the Orient Trading Company, lock, stock, and barrel.”
“There were other potential buyers,” Dalziel remarked.
“True, but none with pockets as deep as mine. And I was prepared to pay well-acquiring the company was always a part of my long-term strategy.”
Christian could well imagine it. And there were few who would or could effectively stand in Roscoe’s way. Although the acquisition and the merging of the company’s gaming hells with his own would make him extremely powerful, as Gallagher had intimated, even the underworld czars would nod and let him be. Roscoe was regarded as a stabilizing influence at the interface between legal and illegal activities. He refused to allow any underhanded practices in his establishments, and by and large, all was kept strictly aboveboard.
He held no truck with crime, and with his views so widely known-and so rigidly enforced-even the czars preferred the devil they knew, even if he marched to a beat not their own.
“Apropos of which”-Roscoe’s dark eyes turned to Christian-“I’m willing to tell you all I know about Randall’s proposed sale in return for an agreement to be presented, at the appropriate time, to the new owner and the other two partners, as Randall’s chosen buyer.”
Christian held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “We’re prepared to give you an assurance to that effect.”
Roscoe inclined his head. “Very well. On that basis…in response to Randall’s fishing for buyers, I contacted him by letter. He came here…” Roscoe paused, then went on, “It was two days before his death. We discussed the sale-he’d had offers from others, Edson, Plummer, and Gammon, that I’m sure of, but none of them would take all the properties. They each wanted only certain ones, and there was overlap, so, quite aside from the price, if Randall went with any of them, things were going to get messy. So he and I sat and talked-we worked out an offer that satisfied us both. I agreed to take the entire company for a price he thought reasonable. Once the others heard I wanted the whole company, they would back off. Any further interest from them would only result in Randall making more, and while there’s no love lost between them and me, there was even less goodwill for Randall-essentially because he pretended to be something he wasn’t.”
“We’ve heard you had conditions,” Christian said, “and that you and he hadn’t yet shaken on the deal.”
Roscoe nodded. “I had two conditions Randall had to meet before I was prepared to do more than talk. The first is an obvious one-I wanted to see the books from each of the hells. I’m sure that wouldn’t have been a problem. The other condition was one peculiar to the situation.” Roscoe met Christian’s eyes. “As I’m sure you’ve discovered, Randall was the active partner of the three. Because of that…” Roscoe paused as if considering, then continued. “…and because of another piece of information which I suspect I was one of the few privy to, I asked Randall to provide a signed written statement from each of his partners to the effect that they were willing to sell their shares at this time.”
Trowbridge’s written statement. “Why insist on that,” Christian asked, “and what was the piece of information?”
Roscoe tapped a finger on his blotter. “I insisted primarily because I don’t have partners. I don’t have time for them-having any sort of partner would slow me down and generally get in my way. Although the Orient Trading Company is structured so it’s supposedly all or none for any sale to proceed, there’s ways around that, namely for the buyer-me-to take on one of their partners as my partner in a new company. That wasn’t going to happen. I made it clear I was only interested in acquiring the Orient Trading Company if I could buy it outright.”
“So it was all the shares in one deal, or no deal?” Dalziel asked.
“Just so.” Roscoe paused, then went on, “Obviously I would have asked Randall for those declarations anyway, but the reason I haven’t bothered to make any appointment with my bankers regarding the deal is because…well, frankly, I had serious doubts it would proceed.”
Justin’s eyes had narrowed. “You thought one of the other two wouldn’t sell?”
Roscoe nodded. “I made my offer for the company primarily to ensure it wasn’t sold to anyone else.” He paused, then went on, “That piece of information I mentioned came to me in a roundabout way. I was approached about an investment-it sounded an excellent prospect, but instinct reared its head and at the last I didn’t buy in. Naturally I kept an eye on what happened. The investment was a swindle, a very sophisticated one but a swindle just the same. Everyone who’d invested lost every penny they’d put in.”
“Swithin,” Christian guessed.
Roscoe met his gaze. “He was mentioned as one of the principal investors. The gentlemen behind the scheme specifically targeted the knowledgeable investors-they courted us, pandered to our vanity. That was what made me suspicious, but in Swithin’s case it apparently played into his hubris. His reputation went to his head, and he risked…a very great deal.”
“So, he’s what?” Justin asked. “Ruined?”
“No, but my sources suggest he’s very close to it, and he’s taking extreme care to hide the fact. He knows money, how to move it around, how to practice sleight of hand with it to conceal his state. But he’s already liquidated most of his other investments, and even his new wife’s portion is gone. He still owns two houses, one in London and one in Surrey, but when it comes to cash, he’d be lucky to lay his hands on two pennies to rub together.”