Highgate Rise - Anne Perry [119]
“Did anyone else know about her?”
“No idea. He may have told Shaw. I suppose you ’aven’t arrested him yet?”
“Papa!” Flora spoke for the first time, a cry of protest torn out in spite of herself.
“An’ I’ll not ’ave a word about it from you, my girl,” Lutterworth said fiercely. “ ’E’s done enough damage to you already. Your name’s a byword ’round ’ere, runnin’ after ’im like a lovesick parlormaid.”
Flora blushed scarlet and fumbled for words to defend herself, and found none.
Murdo was in an agony of impotence. Had Lutterworth glanced at him he would have been startled by the fury in his eyes, but he was occupied with the irresponsibility he saw in his daughter.
“Well what do you want wi’ me?” he snapped at Pitt. “Not to hear about Amos Lindsay’s dead wife—poor devil.”
“No,” Pitt agreed. “Actually I came to ask you about what properties you own in the city.”
“What?” Lutterworth was so utterly taken aback it was hard not to believe he was as startled as he seemed. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about, man? What property?”
“Housing, to be exact.” Pitt was watching him closely, but even Murdo who cared more intensely about this case than about anything else he could remember, did not see a flicker of fear or comprehension in Lutterworth’s face.
“I own this ’ouse, lock, stock and barrel, and the ground it stands on.” Lutterworth unconsciously stiffened a fraction and pulled his shoulders straighter. “And I own a couple o’ rows o’ terraced ’ouses outside o’ Manchester. Built ’em for my workers, I did. And good ’ouses they are, solid as the earth beneath ’em. Don’t let water, chimneys don’t smoke, privies in every back garden, an’ a standpipe to every one of ’em. Can’t say fairer than that.”
“And that’s all the property you own, Mr. Lutterworth?” Pitt’s voice was lighter, a thread of relief in it already. “Could you prove that?”
“I could if I were minded to.” Lutterworth was eyeing him curiously, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. “But why should I?”
“Because the cause of Mrs. Shaw’s murder, and Mr. Lindsay’s, may lie in the ownership of property in London,” Pitt replied, glancing for less than a second at Flora, and away again.
“Balderdash!” Lutterworth said briskly. “If you ask me, Shaw killed ’is wife so ’e could be free to come after my Flora, and then ’e killed Lindsay because Lindsay knew what ’e was up to. Give ’imself away somehow—bragging, I shouldn’t wonder, and went too far. Well ’e’ll damn well not marry Flora—for my money, or anything else. I won’t let ’er—and ’e’ll not wait till I’m gone for ’er, I’ll be bound.”
“Papa!” Flora would not be hushed anymore, by discretion or filial duty or even the embarrassment which flamed scarlet up her cheeks now. “You are saying wicked things which are quite untrue.”
“I’ll not have argument.” He rounded on her, his own color high. “Can you tell me you haven’t been seeing ’im, sneaking in and out of his house when you thought no one was looking?”
She was on the verge of tears and Murdo tensed as if to step forward, but Pitt shot him a stony glare, his face tight.
Murdo longed to save her so desperately his body ached with the fierceness of his effort to control himself, but he had no idea what to say or do. It all had a dreadful inevitability, like a stone that has already started falling and must complete its journey.
“It was not illicit.” She chose her words carefully, doing her best to ignore Pitt and Murdo standing like intrusive furniture in the room, and all her attention was focused on her father. “It was … was just—private.”
Lutterworth’s face was distorted with pain as well as fury. She was the one person left in the world he loved, and she had betrayed herself, and so wounded him where he could not bear it.
“Secret!