Acceptable Loss - Anne Perry [32]
They were all around him, laughing too loudly, the women too brightly colored.
In all of it Monk could sense a pervasive loneliness, a compulsion, not an enjoyment.
He approached a man selling tickets to one of the dance floors.
“I want to be discreet,” he said with a very slight smile. “There are gentlemen here who would rather not have it known that they take their pleasures in such a place. Or should I say, they perhaps prefer the darkness, if you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said guardedly. “Can’t say as I can do anything about that.”
“Yes, you can. I am from the Thames River Police. I can come back here in uniform, with a lot of assistance, also in uniform, if you make that necessary. I’m hoping to find a little cooperation that will very quietly embarrass a few, rather than more publicly embarrass many.”
“I see, sir,” the man said quickly. “Which ‘few’ did you ’ave in mind? I’m sure as I can ’elp yer.”
“I thought you might.” Monk pulled out the drawing of the cravat. “Specifically, whoever wears a tie like this one.”
The man regarded it with disinterest. Then something in it struck a chord of memory. Monk saw it in his face. The man flushed, weighing the chances of lying and getting away with it. He looked at Monk’s eyes, and made his decision. “Looks like the young man wot comes with Mr. Bledsoe, sir. Not that I could say for sure, like.”
“Describe him,” Monk said curtly.
“Tall, fair ’air. ’Andsome. Full o’ charm. But, then, them gents is. Born to it. I guess it comes on the silver spoon they got in their gobs.”
“I imagine so. Tell me about Mr. Bledsoe. How do you know his name?”
“ ’Cos I ’eard ’im called by it, o’ course! D’yer think I’m a bleedin’ mind reader?”
Monk ignored the challenge. “What does he look like?” he asked curiously.
“Shorter. Dark ’air. Eyes a bit close tergether. Always wears a top ’at. S’pose it makes ’im a bit taller.” He snickered at the idea. “Big ’ands. I noticed as ’e ’ad great big ’ands.”
Monk thanked him and left.
It did not take him long the next day to look up the Bledsoe family, and make a few inquiries at police stations in Mayfair, Park Lane, and Kensington. He mentioned that a piece of jewelry had been lost and he wanted to return it to its owner discreetly. No one argued with him, and he had no conscience about lying.
He found the Honorable Alexander Bledsoe, who answered the description of the man in Cremorne Gardens with extraordinary accuracy. His well-cared-for but unusually large hands removed any doubt. He chose to see Monk without family or servants present.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” he said with carefully judged casualness.
“I’m looking for the gentleman who lost a rather fine silk cravat,” Monk replied smoothly. “I believe he might be a friend of yours.”
“Not that I know of.” Bledsoe smiled slightly, his shoulders relaxed, and the uneasiness vanished. “But if anyone mentions it, I’ll tell them it’s been found. Leave it at the local station, there’s a good fellow. Someone’ll pick it up.” He seemed to consider looking into his pocket for a coin. His hand moved, and then stopped. He turned as if to leave.
Monk pulled the picture of the cravat out of his pocket and held it up. “It’s rather distinctive,” he observed.
Bledsoe glanced at it and frowned. “What the hell is this?” he said sharply. “If you’ve found the thing, where is it?”
“At the police station, in safekeeping,” Monk replied.
“Well, get the damn thing and bring it to me. I’ll see that it’s returned,” Bledsoe said irritably.
“It’s important that I return it to the right person. Do you know who that is, sir?” Monk persisted.
“Yes, I do!” Bledsoe snapped. “Now go and fetch it! Dammit, man, what’s the matter with you?”
Monk folded the picture and replaced it in his pocket. “Whose is it, sir?”
Bledsoe glared at him. “Rupert Cardew’s. At least it looks like one he wore. For God’s sake, why are you making such a hell of a fuss about a damn cravat?”
Monk felt a void open up inside him. He knew how much Hester liked Rupert Cardew, and how he had helped the clinic. His generosity