Paragon Walk - Anne Perry [55]
“Quite,” Pitt agreed. “So having searched everywhere I can to find him, I am obliged to come back here to see if I can deduce where he might have gone, or if not where, at least why.”
“Why?” Freddie’s face fell. “Well, I suppose he was—well—no—I don’t know what I suppose. Never really thought about it. Didn’t owe money, did he? Nashes have always been well off, so far as I know, but he is the youngest brother, so maybe he hadn’t so much.”
“We thought of that, sir, and we checked. His bank gave us access to their records, and he is in good funds. And his brother, Mr. Afton Nash, assures us that he had no financial problems. We have found no mention of any debt in any of the usual gambling clubs.”
Freddie looked worried.
“Didn’t know you people could get into that kind of thing! What a man gambles is his own affair!”
“Certainly, sir, but where a disappearance is concerned, possibly a murder—”
“Murder! Do you think Fulbert was murdered? Well,” he pulled a terrible face and sat down rather abruptly. He looked at Pitt through his fingers. “Well, I suppose we knew that, if we were honest. Knew too much, Fulbert, always was a bit too clever. Trouble is, he wasn’t clever enough to pretend to be a little less clever.”
“Very well put, sir.” Pitt smiled. “What we need to know is which of all his clever remarks was the one that backfired on him? Did he know who raped Fanny? Or was it something else, possibly even something he didn’t actually know, but implied he did?”
Freddie frowned, but the high color in his face fled, leaving the broken veins standing out. He did not look at Pitt.
“Don’t know what you mean! If he didn’t actually know it, why should anyone kill him? Bit risky, isn’t it?”
Pitt explained patiently. “If he were to have said to someone, I know your secret, or words to that effect, he would not need to have spelled it out. If there really were something dangerous enough, the person would not wait to see if Fulbert would tell it or not.”
“Oh. I see. You mean, just kill him anyway, be on the safe side?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Rubbish! Few odd affairs, maybe, but no real harm in that. Good God! Lived in the Walk for years, every Season, of course, not in the winter, you understand?” The perspiration was standing out on his forehead and lip. He shook his head, as if he might at once clear it and drive out the loathsome idea. After a moment his face lit up. “Never thought of anyone like that. You’d better look at the Frenchman; he’s the only one I don’t know.” He waved his hand as if he could wash Pitt away like a petty annoyance. “Seems to have plenty of means, and decent enough manners, if you like that sort of thing, bit too precise for me. But no idea where the man comes from, could be anywhere. A sight too easy with the women. And come to think of it, he never told us who his family was. Always be spacious of a fellow when you don’t know who his family is. Look him up, that’s my advice to you. Try the French police, maybe they’ll help you?”
It was something Pitt had not thought of, and he mentally kicked himself for the oversight, the more so because it had taken a fool like Freddie Dilbridge to point it out to him.
“Yes sir, we shall do that.”
“Might have been a rapist in France for all we know!” Freddie’s own voice lifted as he warmed to the subject, pleased with his own sagacity. “Maybe Fulbert discovered it. Now that would surely be worth killing him for, wouldn’t it? Yes, you find out about Monsieur Alaric before he came here. Guarantee you’ll find the reason for your murder there! Guarantee it! Now, for heaven’s sake, let me go and have some breakfast! I feel perfectly awful!”
Grace Dilbridge had an entirely different outlook on the subject.
“Oh no!” she said immediately. “Freddie is not himself this morning, or I’m sure he would not have made such a suggestion. He is very loyal, you know. He would not wish to think of any of his friends as—as more than a little— indelicate. But I assure you, Monsieur