Pentecost Alley - Anne Perry [23]
“So I imagine,” Pitt agreed. “Do you still have your badge?” He overlooked Helliwell’s uncertainty as to whether there had been one at all.
“No idea.” He looked startled and even slightly amused. “Shouldn’t think so. Why? Look, you’d better explain what this is all about. So far you haven’t said anything remotely urgent or important. You told the doorman it was a matter of unpleasantness. Either come to the point or I shall have to leave you.” He took out a heavy gold watch on an equally heavy gold chain and looked at it ostentatiously. “I must go in three minutes anyway.”
“A woman was murdered last night, and a Hellfire Club badge was found underneath her body,” Pitt replied, watching his eyes, his face.
Helliwell swallowed convulsively, but he did not lose his composure. It was a moment or two before he answered.
“I’m very sorry. But if it is my badge, then I can assure you I had nothing whatever to do with it. I was dining with my father-in-law and went straight home in the carriage. My wife will attest to that, as will my own servants. Who was she?” His voice was growing firmer as he continued. His color was returning. “Was it my badge? The least I can do is to determine where I lost it, or if it was stolen. Although I doubt it will be much use. It could have been years ago.”
“No sir, it was not your badge. But …”
Helliwell rose to his feet, anger flushing his cheeks. “Then what in the devil are you doing bothering me?” he demanded. “This is outrageous, sir. So whose—” He stopped abruptly, one hand in the air.
“Yes?” Pitt enquired, rising to his feet also. “I’ll walk with you. You were going to say …?”
“Whose …” Helliwell gulped. “Whose badge was it?” He went a step towards the door.
“I understand there were only four of you,” Pitt continued. “Is that correct?”
“Ah …” Helliwell quite transparently considered lying, and then abandoned it. “Yes … yes, that’s right. At least in my time! I left, Inspector … er … Superintendent. More could have joined after … of course.” He forced a smile.
Pitt went to the door and opened it, holding it for him. “I mustn’t delay you from meeting your wife and mother-in-law.”
“No. Well … sorry I couldn’t help.” Helliwell went through and continued on across the hallway to the front door, nodding to the doorman.
Pitt followed him, half a step behind. “What can you tell me about the other members in your time?” he asked.
Helliwell went through the door and down the steps.
“Oh … nothing much. Decent fellows. All a bit older and wiser now, of course.” He dismissed the whole idea. He did not ask again whose badge it had been.
“Mortimer Thirlstone?” Pitt increased his step to keep up with him on the pavement as Helliwell strode out in the sun along Albemarle Street towards Piccadilly, walking so fast he all but bumped into passersby. A landau with three ladies taking the air did not outpace him.
“Haven’t seen him in a dog’s age,” Helliwell said breathlessly. “Really couldn’t say how he’s doing.”
“Finlay FitzJames?”
Helliwell stopped abruptly, causing a gentleman in striped trousers two paces behind him to trip and cannon into him.
“I’m sorry!” the man said, although it was manifestly Helliwell’s fault. “I say, sir, do take a little care!”
“What?” Helliwell was startled. He had been unaware of anyone but himself and Pitt. “Oh. In your way? For heaven’s sake, go around me!”
The man set his hat straight, glared for a moment, then, swinging his umbrella, proceeded on his way.
“Finlay FitzJames?” Pitt repeated.
“You’ll have to speak to him yourself,” Helliwell said, swallowing again. “I daresay he lost his badge years ago. No need to keep it. Now you really must excuse me. I can see my family on the corner there.