I imagine Denis willingly performing these tasks in order to have a man of business in his pocket. Though Molodzinski was not wealthy, he’d have access to information, could pry information out of other men of business, and would know of dealings on the exchanges, perhaps before others became aware of them.
What Denis prized above all else was knowledge.
The fact that Denis was here now told me that perhaps Molodzinski was reluctant to give Denis this information.
“I understand your quandary,” I said to Molodzinski. “I will keep your confidence.”
Molodzinski looked surprised but grateful. “Thank you, sir. Thank you. I am in your debt.”
“It seems your debt is extending to many,” Denis said in a dry voice. “But please, do what Captain Lacey asks of you. His intentions are usually benign, even if he is insistent.”
My annoyance returned. “He is obviously an honorable man,” I said, pointing my walking stick in Molodzinski’s direction. “He defended himself against a pack of criminals—very different from him striking down an innocent. You would do a kindness to leave him be.”
Denis regarded me stonily. “My business would be in pieces if I followed your precepts. Forgive me if I do not rush to obey you. Please, continue your errand here. I will deal with Mr. Molodzinski later. I cannot hope to prevail against your tenacity when you wish to discover answers.”
I was not flattered, but glad he would not hinder Molodzinski in responding to my questions.
Denis made no move to leave, however. He stood like a monolith while I turned back to Molodzinski and explained the circumstances with Hartman and his daughter.
Molodzinski lost his fearfulness of me as he listened, and his expression changed to one of sympathy.
“I can inquire, Captain. I laughed at you when I accused you of coming to me, one Jew to track down another, but it is true that our community in London is rather small. I do not know this man personally, but I know how to find others who will. I must warn you, not everyone will welcome an outsider asking questions. I am pleased I live in this country in this time, when we are not being expelled or imprisoned simply for being Jewish, but insults come readily to Gentiles, and we are not wholly embraced.”
“I do understand,” I said. “Though you might not think it. I have knowledge of what it is to be on the outside looking in. Lack of funds has a way of separating a man, even when others pretend it does not.”
Molodzinski looked surprised. “You live in a sumptuous enough house.” He hesitated. “Though so does the Prince of Wales, and he is up to his ears in debt.”
“I married well,” I said, my smile wry. “But my station in life is below my wife’s, so I am looked at askance.”
“True, wealth will ingratiate a man when all other factors about him would normally repulse.” Molodzinski shook his head. “That is the way of the world.”
He reiterated that he’d ask about Hartman for me, and send word to my rooms in Grimpen Lane. The interview was at an end.
I was reluctant to leave him alone with Denis, at Denis’s mercy. Though I did not believe Denis would allow my presence to stop him meting out punishment as he thought fit, he might at least hesitate.
Denis, however, took up the hat he’d left on a table and motioned me to leave with him. I thanked Molodzinski again, shook his hand, and left the office.
My hackney waited, with Brewster lounging against it, talking with the coachman. Brewster went at once to Denis when he stepped outside—they exchanged a few words I could not hear, then Brewster came back to the hackney, handed up coin, and dismissed the coach.
The hackney drove on, leaving me with Denis, as Denis’s coach pulled forward to retrieve him.
In a few minutes, I once more found myself inside Denis’s austere but elegant carriage, facing the man who controlled most of the criminal element in London.
“I will not apologize for defending Mr. Molodzinski,” I said before Denis could speak. “He was in an unfortunate situation, and you took advantage of him.”
“I did indeed,” Denis said without changing expression. “But I did not bring you with me to rebuke you. I want you to tell me about the attack on your son in the park.”
I started. “Why? Brewster must have reported it to you.”
“He did. He was quite angry about it. But I would like the matter described from your point of view.”
“I saw the man coming and thought nothing of it.” I related what had happened, ending with Peter’s assessment that the horseflesh was costly.
Denis tapped one finger to the gold head of his walking stick. “A member of the haut ton attempting to knock small boys from horses? This is a strange occurrence.”
“Hardly one for humor. If his sack had hit Peter, Peter might have been seriously hurt.”
“I was not laughing. I was remarking on the incongruity. Oddities interest me. You are correct that the place to start looking for the culprit is the horse. Even if the man did not own the horse, a groom or stable lad will remember him hiring it.”
“Possibly. I have already sent Bartholomew to the stables in and about Hyde Park to make inquiries. I have no doubt that he and his brother will quickly find something for me. It was a fine hunter, and fresh—the rider could not have ridden it far that day. Likely it was cared for nearby.”
Denis gave me a nod. “I agree with your logic.”
“May I ask why you are interested? Why should an attack on my stepson distress you?”
Denis moved his hand on the walking stick, his fingers caressed by his skin-tight kid gloves. “I have become quite protective of you. A blow to your beloved family would cripple you. That would lose me a valuable asset. Also, my enemies might attempt to reach me by using you.”
My heart beat thick and hard. “Cease requesting my help, and your enemies will have nothing to hold over you. I refuse to let any of my family come to harm because of you.”
Denis flicked his fingers. “I would have considered your debt to me paid had you not sought my assistance so many times in these past few years. And I do like to keep an eye on you. However, I do not truly believe this is the work of my enemies. They are not so crude.”
“Not a thought that comforts me,” I said. “I agree, it was clumsy. Which is why I suspect one of small Peter’s relations is at the heart of it. Someone suddenly wants to be Viscount Breckenridge.”
“A comfortable and lucrative peerage,” Denis agreed. “I will assist you in unraveling that problem, but I advise you drop investigating the shopkeeper’s dead daughter.”
“No,” I said. “Her killer should not go free.”
“You are willing to let Molodzinski go free. Even when he admitted himself he’d taken a life.”
“Entirely different. I’ve done battle. I know the fear, the desperation of fighting for one’s life. In my case I was commended for my bravery. Whoever killed Miss Hartman was a coward. What could she have done to warrant such a thing?”
“Not all ladies are kind, gentle creatures,” Denis said. “Perhaps she angered her killer, threatened him in some way, with words alone. Made him fear her.”
“Why he did it is immaterial,” I said in a hard voice. “He should have found another way to resolve his quarrel with her. The blow was hard, and not accidental.”
“How can you be certain?” Denis asked, eyeing me. “Something might have fallen on her, or she hit her head as she went down.”
“Your surgeon says no. He said that her falling would have crushed her more, looked different—how, I do not know. He said it was a strike, swift and hard, with a thin, blunt weapon, like a poker or crowbar.”
Denis nodded. “He is likely correct. He is an expert on wounds.”
I studied Denis in curiosity. “And you will tell me no more about him?”
“No.” Denis lifted his walking stick, a heavy thing, its shaft of polished mahogany, and tapped the roof of the coach.