The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [9]
By mid-afternoon Pitt could no longer bear being on the sidelines. He collected his hat from the elegant stand by the door. He adjusted his jacket without making it hang any better, and decided he should take out of his pockets at least a ball of string which he no longer needed, two pieces of sealing wax and a rather long pencil, then he went out onto the landing and down the stairs.
“I’m going to see the widow,” he informed the desk sergeant. “What is the address?”
The sergeant did not need to ask him which widow he meant. The whole station had been buzzing with the news since morning.
“Twenty-four Curzon Street, sir,” he said immediately. “Poor lady. I wouldn’t like to ’ave bin the sergeant wot ’ad ter tell ’er. Any death is bad enough, but that’s the kind o’ shock no one should ’ave ter take.”
“No,” Pitt agreed, ashamed of himself for being so grateful he had not been the one to bring the news. That was one benefit of promotion. Now Tellman would do the wretched duties that had been his only a few months ago. Then he shuddered. Tellman’s lantern face was not the one he would have wished bearing tidings of bereavement. He looked too much like an undertaker himself, at the best of times. Perhaps Pitt should have gone after all.
He went out onto the pavement of Bow Street and started north towards Drury Lane and a hansom cab. But whatever he thought of Tellman, unless he proved himself incompetent at the task, he must not rob him of his stewardship. He lengthened his stride with a haste he could not explain.
In Drury Lane he hailed a cab and gave the driver the Winthrops’ address, then settled back for the ride. He was not sure what he could add to the information Tellman would already have gathered, except his own impressions. But sometimes personal judgment was the most valuable element, the one thing no one else could give you, the small voice in the back of the mind which warned to look beyond the obvious.
No one had reported back yet, which did not surprise him. Tellman would leave it till the last possible moment that bordered on insolence but avoided outright insubordination. And Pitt was obliged by honesty to admit he had reported to his own superiors only when he felt he could evade it no longer. He disliked being told how he should conduct his case by someone behind a desk, who had not seen the faces of the men and women involved and knew nothing of their emotions. Much as it annoyed him, he could not justly blame Tellman for doing the same.
So now he was going to do what Micah Drummond had never done; he was on his way to interview the widow on the first day of the case. But it was a sensitive matter. This was the very reason he had obtained preferment instead of Tellman or some other officer brought in from another station. He knew how to treat the gentry with courtesy, and yet still to read their emotions, detect their lies and persist until he found the truth hidden beneath the layers of politics, ritual, subterfuge and pride.
Not a little of his past success was due to Charlotte’s help, and he admitted it freely to himself, if not to the assistant commissioner.
The hansom drew up in Curzon Street, Pitt alighted and paid the driver, then taking off his hat in preparatory courtesy, he mounted the front door steps to number twenty-four and pulled the brass bell knob.
It was several moments before a white-faced butler answered and looked at Pitt almost expressionlessly.
“Good afternoon,” Pitt said very soberly. “Superintendent Thomas Pitt, from Bow Street. I should appreciate a short interview with Mrs. Winthrop.” He produced his card, now with his rank engraved on it as well as his name, and dropped it on the butler’s silver tray. “I understand this is a most distressing time, but she may be able to help find the man who has brought about this tragedy, and speed is of the essence.”
“Yes, sir,” the butler conceded reluctantly. He looked Pitt up and down from his untidy hair to his beautiful boots. At any other time, when not suffering from shock, he might have been harder to override,