The Thames River Murders

“Yes.” I stood up, setting the excellent port aside without reluctance. “Let us at once to Cavendish Square, truss up Be

Grenville rose quickly to his feet. “Indeed. Poor Margaret. And what will become of this Ella?”

“He will pay back every pe

“That could be,” Grenville said. “But again, we have no proof.”

“Pomeroy or Thompson can wrangle a confession from him. He will hang—after he makes restitution to his wronged wives.”

I could see Grenville thought me too optimistic, but I was happy to be able to apprehend the man at last. Judith’s bones could be laid to rest, where she might cease haunting my dreams.

***

We rode to Cavendish Square in Grenville’s luxurious carriage. Along the way, I read Denis’s succinct, precise letter, which was mostly a list of Be

My contempt for Be

Had Be

Denis’s list went back only ten years, aside from the evidence of marriage to Judith, but when he dug deeper, what would we find?

By the time we reached Cavendish Square, I was worked up into one of my fine tempers. I saw Denis’s men discreetly and not so discreetly on the lookout as I lifted the door knocker and let it fall.

I asked to speak, not to Mr. Be

The captain was in his bed still, his wasted body a far cry from the strength in his eyes. He received me politely, but I read his simmering anger, which matched mine.

I introduced Grenville as politeness dictated, but neither Woolwich nor I had patience for any niceties.

“You told me to come back when I could rid you of Andrew Be

Woolwich read them in silence. The color drained from his face, then he dropped the papers and began to cough.

I sprang forward. “Grenville. Brandy.”

Grenville already had taken out his flask. He held it to Woolwich’s mouth, and Woolwich calmed enough to drink.

Woolwich took a long breath then another sip of brandy. Finally, he nodded to Grenville that he was all right, though his face remained gray.

“At last,” he said hoarsely. “I knew he was a wrong ’un.”

“He is a fraud, a bigamist, and a crook,” I said. “Will you prosecute?”

“Oh, yes.” Red crept back into Woolwich’s cheeks. “Even if it takes the rest of my fortune to do it. Did he kill his first wife? If she was his first.”

“I believe he did kill her,” I said. “I will certainly try to have him prosecuted for it.”

“Good.” Woolwich gave me an approving nod. “Thank you, Captain.”

I sobered. “What about your daughter? Would you like me to break the news to her?”

“No.” Woolwich coughed again, but gently this time. He lifted a handkerchief from the covers and patted his mouth. “She is my daughter. I will tell her. He has ruined her, poor child.”

“Yes.” Margaret’s marriage was false, which meant she was the same as a mistress. The world would hold this against her, through no fault of her own. “I am sorry to have to reveal such a thing.”

“I’d rather she lose her character than remain living with that charlatan,” Woolwich said. “So would you. I will make sure she’s looked after all her days.”

There remained little more to say. I took the papers back from Woolwich, and Grenville and I left the room.

Be

He gave us an affable look, i

Grenville stepped between us. “Mr. Be

“Oh?” Be

“To visit a friend,” Grenville said. “I would like him to meet you.”

Grenville’s cool self-assurance moved Be

In spite of the wheeled vehicles, horses, and foot traffic surging around the square, Jackson had kept Grenville’s team quiet, the coach waiting a foot from the door. Grenville himself opened the carriage door, though the footman from the house darted forward to assist us in.

Be

“What is happening?” Be

Brewster hemmed him in, his bulk filling most of the seat. “We’re off to Bow Street,” he said.

Be

“I do not … I do not understand, gentlemen.”

He would protest to the last. I leaned forward, my walking stick between my hands. “We’ve found you out. All your wives of your so-called marriages. We have found four—perhaps there are more?”

Be

“Not at all,” Grenville said. “You tried hard to make them appear legal, at least to satisfy the ladies and their families. They were respectable women, not the sort to readily become your mistresses. And if you could convince their families that the marriages were legal, you swept in the dowry and any property.”

Be

“Of course we will,” Grenville said. “We have the records, possibly the testimony of the ladies themselves. I imagine none of them would be happy to hear of the others.”

Be

“Indeed,” Grenville said. “And a good thing—where would we all be if we picked up and discarded wives at will? You did the thing very thoroughly, Be

“But surely.” His smile incensed me. “We can come to some arrangement.”

I pressed the end of my walking stick to his thigh. “That is not all of it. Why did you murder Judith? Did she discover your cavalier approach to marriage, after you convinced her to leave her family, her friends, her entire religion behind for you? She sacrificed everything, and then no doubt discovered what sort of man you were. Is that why you killed her?”

“No!” Be

“Enough.” Grenville’s smooth word cut through Be