“Indeed.” Christian frowned. “Especially as it seems he has met them in recent times, and all live more or less in London, Swithin within a few blocks.”
“Was the will recent?” Dalziel asked.
“Two years old,” Christian replied. “Recent enough.” He looked at Justin. “Any ideas?”
Justin grimaced. “I’ve seen Randall speak with Trowbridge, and Swithin, too—I only know their names because he mentioned them in passing. On different occasions, each stopped him to have a word when he was with me—although they stepped aside, I got the impression it was simply that—a word or two. Nothing of deep import. But…” He grimaced again, and looked at Letitia. “If one goes by how people stand—how close, how relaxed they are—then it did seem as if he knew them well.”
“It sounds as if Swithin and Trowbridge go on our list of potential friends-cum-murderers.” Dalziel raised a brow at Justin. “Can you think of anyone else—anyone Randall classed as friend, whether by word or deed?”
“I’ve spent the last days racking my brains, but other than Trowbridge and Swithin, who I did recall, there’s no one else I can name, or even point to. Looking back, it’s really quite bizarre, but Randall simply didn’t appear to have the usual circle of male acquaintances all other gentlemen do.”
Frowning, as they all were, Tristan asked, “How did he spend his evenings? Surely he must have had some social circle of sorts?”
It was Letitia wh
o answered. “He spent a lot of his evenings in his study. Often to all hours. Business, he said, although I never knew what.” She grimaced. “I had no interest in knowing, so never asked.” She paused, then added, “And I’m not sure even if I had asked, that he would have told me. He was rather secretive about his financial affairs.”
“That’s true.” Justin looked at Tristan. “He probably spent half his evenings out—sometimes with Letitia at dinners, and sometimes trawling the clubs, but at least in the latter case, on the times I went with him or saw him out and about, it always seemed that he was there to see and be seen, not to do anything specific like meet someone or play cards or dice. He’d walk through the rooms, stopping and chatting with whoever was there. If you watched him long enough, you’d see him just keep walking until he’d passed everyone, and then just walk out again. Most never noticed, but I did because I watched—it always struck me as deuced strange.”
A moment passed, then Dalziel said, “So we have Swithin and Trowbridge as possibilities, and no one else. What do we know of them?”
Letitia shook her head. “I never encountered them with Randall—I never heard him mention them, nor heard that they’d called at the house. Swithin I’ve never met at all—I know nothing about him. Trowbridge I have met socially—we’ve been introduced.” She glanced around. “He’s something of an authority on paintings and sculpture, and as the latter is currently very popular with the ladies of the ton, Trowbridge is in demand. When I met him it was at a private exhibition of figurines—he was one of the critics the hostess had invited. But that’s all I know of him, although courtesy of Randall’s will, we now know he lives in Chelsea.”
“That’s more or less all that I managed to learn about Trowbridge,” Tristan put in. “As his and Swithin’s were the only names I turned up, I asked around very quietly. Trowbridge seems well established within the ton. All I heard about Swithin, however, was that he was known as a canny and very private investor.”
“Clearly we need to learn more about Trowbridge and Swithin.” Having stolen his thunder, Letitia turned to Dalziel. “I presume you haven’t heard anything from Hexham yet?”
Dalziel shook his head. “I’ve sent word to contacts I have there—they’ll visit the grammar school and see what they can find, but it’ll be a day or two yet before they send anything back. However, I also made inquiries through other, closer sources, hoping to turn up something on Randall. Unfortunately, all I turned up were negatives—he’s never been in any of the services, never attached to any government department or embassy, never had a position in any ministry, royal house, or parliamentary enterprise. Nor was he ever connected with the church—as deacon, sexton, or any such capacity.”
Letitia wrinkled her nose. “So my late husband remains an enigma.”
No one argued.
Christian broke the silence. “Have any of you heard of the Orient Trading Company?” When they all shook their heads, he went on, “Randall owned a third of the company—we should find out who the other owners are. It’s possible that company affairs provided someone with a motive for murder.” He looked down at his notebook. “Letitia and I have to visit Montague anyway, to ask what he’s learned regarding the original source of Randall’s wealth, and now also to give him the details of Randall’s estate so he can give us an estimate of its worth. As part of that, he’ll need to assess the Orient Trading Company—I’ll ask him to ferret out the other owners, and whether the company is profitable, too.”
“Do.” Dalziel looked around. “It seems we all have clues to pursue. I’ll continue to see what I can uncover regarding Randall’s background. I’ll also see what I can learn about the company.”
Tristan nodded. “The Orient Trading Company sounds like an import-export business—I’ll see what I can learn of them around the docks and through the shipping companies. Alongside that, I’ll keep pursuing Swithin—we know far too little about him.”
“Indeed.” Letitia glanced at Christian. “I’m sure I can arrange to come up with Trowbridge socially—that might be the best way to approach him about his connection with Randall. I could mention the bequest.”
Christian nodded. “Good idea. I’ll go with you. We’ll concentrate on Trowbridge. Otherwise, for the company and Randall’s finances, it’s Montague we most need to alert—we’ll do that as soon as we can.”
They all rose, pleased to have something to sink their teeth into. All except Justin, who clearly felt left out.
“You’ll just have to grin and bear it,” Letitia informed him, “for I’ll never forgive you if you give that weasel Barton the satisfaction of taking you up.” She hugged him. “Stay…where you’re told to stay, and don’t be a nuisance.”
Justin rolled his eyes but settled back into a chair to read a book readily enough. Dalziel had already departed, having ordered Justin to be ready to leave the club at two the next morning.
Letitia followed Christian down the stairs. “Dalziel at least is taking the threat of the authorities seriously.”
Christian snorted. “He should know—he’s one of the authorities’ ultimate threats.”
Gasthorpe, as ever efficient, had a hackney waiting. Letitia climbed in; Christian told the jarvey to take them to South Audley Street, then joined her.
To find her frowning at him. “What about going to see Montague?”
He shook his head. “It’s nearly five o’clock. We’d never make it in time—he’ll have left his office before we reach it.”