His sorrow was genuine, I thought, but faded now. He remembered Judith with regret, but I did not read in him a lingering rage at Bennett or grief at Judith’s death. She was gone, had been for a long time, and he had a new family, a new life.
Had this man struck her down? Had Stein, with his calf eyes, been unforgiving when Judith eloped? Perhaps Judith had come to meet him somewhere near Aldgate High Street—she might have been unhappy with Bennett and thought she could speak to Stein about it. Maybe she hoped Stein might forgive her and help her get free of Bennett. Or simply came at his summons. Stein might have walked her nearer the river, argued with her, struck her, pushed her in.
Devorah had caught sight of her by chance, and Stein had become worried when she reported Judith missing. He’d reported her missing as well, because that is what a man who’d cared about a woman would do, jilted by her or not.
For whatever reason those reports and Judith’s bones found five years later had not been connected. Remembering the sea of papers under the Bow Street house, I was not terribly surprised.
Stein had strong hands and a solid build. He’d have been even more strong and agile in his twenties. A quarrel gone wrong? Or had he planned to kill Judith for disgracing him?
Proof. I needed proof. A confession would be fine as well.
Stein regarded me calmly. I read in him no urge to confess his great sin to me. I would have to trick or frighten it out of him.
Or, Stein might have had nothing to do with it, had only made the best of his life after his disappointment. I hoped, for his wife’s sake, that he’d found a friend and helpmeet in the current Mrs. Stein, and appreciated it.
Stein tipped his hat. “If that is all, Captain, my wife expects me home.”
“Of course,” I said. “May I call upon you if I need to speak to you again?”
“Send word,” Stein said quickly. “I will meet you.”
He did not want me at his house, speaking to him of the past. If he were innocent, I could understand. If guilty—well, I’d make certain he paid.
Judith might have been like a butterfly, flitting after happiness as she saw it, hurting those she left behind, but she shouldn’t have been killed. Her family had known her as the young, rather silly thing who wrestled herself from the perceived confinement of her life.
I’d seen her as a collection of bones, lost, forgotten, an object of pity. I’d pot who killed her, never mind the trouble I’d cause.
“I will send word,” I responded. “Good day, Mr. Stein.”
We shook hands again, and parted.
“You never said you were coming to dwell among the Hebrews,” a voice at my back remarked.
I turned without much surprise to find Brewster. Likely, he’d seen me leave Bow Street and followed. Bartholomew lounged near the hackney I’d hired for the day, waiting for me.
“Are you converting?” Brewster asked when I turned to him.
“Trying to solve a crime,” I countered. “Tell me, did you ask your footman friend to infiltrate the house in Cavendish Square?”
“I did. And he did. He’s chuffed at the job. Says they took him on at once. Pay is decent, though the others there warned him servants don’t stick it long. They can’t stand that Bennett chap.”
I imagined I wouldn’t stick it long either.
I sought Molodzinski and thanked him for his trouble.
“Glad to help,” Molodzinski said. “I have been asking about Hartman and his family, but I haven’t learned much more than you have. Hartman is one whose father, and his father before him, embraced Englishness only reluctantly. Hartman is happy to live and work without impediment, but he yearns for the old ways. Me, I like the new days.”
“The new days are dangerous,” I pointed out, with a glance at his bruises.
“Ha. So were the old, Captain. At one point in history, and not so long ago as all that, it was a crime to be a Jew. I like the new, enlightened days.”
I agreed he had the right of it, and took my leave of him.
“Bartholomew,” I said as Brewster and I approached the hackney. “Would you like to do some covert investigation for me?”
Bartholomew brightened. “Of course I would, Captain. As I said, I’m your man.”
“Good. Then take yourself to Cavendish Square and become acquainted with the servants below stairs in Captain Woolwich’s house. Any time Mr. Bennett leaves that house, follow him and report to me what he does. I’ll give you some money so you can stay at a public house—I want you to observe him for some days.”
Bartholomew’s eyes lit, then he frowned. “If I’m following this gent about, who will look after you at home?”
I waved that away. “I will manage—as I did for many years.” I took coins from my pocket and dropped them into his hand. “Do not let Bennett see you. He has met Matthias, and you two are much alike.”
“He’ll never know I’m there,” Bartholomew promised. He touched his forehead in salute and jogged away.
“You know, my bloke Jack will find anything wrong going on in that house,” Brewster said, sounding the slightest bit hurt.
“Inside,” I said. “Your man won’t be able to invent enough excuses to leave the house to follow Bennett every day. Believe me, I will be agog to hear Jack’s reports.”
Brewster looked mollified. “Where to now, Captain?”
“Home,” I said. “I have promised my wife to take great care when I am out. Although I need to look into two houses in Oxford Street, exact addresses vague. Damn it all, I wish my information wasn’t from so many years ago—if Bennett had been visiting a mistress, I might never find her. He might have long ago finished with her, or she has left London, or died, or she was not his mistress at all.”
“Tall order,” Brewster agreed.
“Hence, I asked Bartholomew to watch him. I am interested in what Mr. Bennett does with his day.”
Brewster grunted. “I understand. I might not be able to help you with this much longer, I have to warn you. Mr. Denis has suggested that, as he puts it, my talents be employed elsewhere, and another of his men set to watch you.”
My brows rose. “Truly? But you are excellent at it. I never know when you are going to pop up.”
Brewster’s cheekbones stained red. “Hap-parently, I am looking after you too well. His nibs wants no harm to come to you, but he’s not happy that you talk to me, like, and stand me drinks. Or that I took you to visit my missus for tea. Says I can’t intimidate you if I let you speak with me.”
“In other words, he wishes to protect me but also keep me in my place.”
“Somefink like that.”
I hid my annoyance. “Would it be helpful if I had you knock me about a time or two? I could show him my injuries as proof you are sufficiently intimidating.”
Brewster grinned. “Then your missus would light into me. Think I’ll risk the displeasure of his nibs, instead. But I’d be sorry to lose the post,” he said. “It’s not dull, following you about.”
He closed his mouth over this declaration and shoved me up into the hackney. Declaring it was overly hot inside, Brewster elected to ride on the box with the coachman.
I reflected, as the hackney pulled away and headed for Leadenhall, that with Brewster I’d begun to forge an unlikely, but not unwelcome, friendship.
***
I could do little myself to investigate Judith’s murder over the next few days, much as I longed to drag Bennett from his home and beat answers from him.
When I returned home Saturday afternoon, I found Lady Aline closeted with Donata. Both ladies pounced on me and recruited me to do errands that had left them in despair.
The come-out was to be held at Lady Aline’s very large house in Berkeley Square. When I’d asked, in all innocence, when that decision had been made, why it could not be held in Donata’s house, I was given stares that told me I was a blithering fool. Not enough room, Donata had said crisply. And this house was pokey, not like Aline’s lofty grandeur.