Shortly after they’d finished the last of their meal, Tim arrived from the tavern with a message from Finn, an uneasy look on his face. After reading the brief missive, Logan understood the younger man’s misgivings. Blast it, the detective who’d taken charge of the investigation had requested a meeting with Amelia. What in Hades was Finn thinking, sending for her at this hour? And after the hellish day she’d had?
“Tell him the inspector will have to wait.”
Tim shifted on his feet. “Finn said ye’d say that. He did not think that would be a wise move.”
“And if I don’t give a damn—”
“I’ll go,” Amelia spoke up, a steely tone to her words. “I need to I know whatever it is the detective has learned.”
The courage in her eyes touched him. But he had to watch out for her. “It can wait until morning.”
“I must disagree,” she said. “I simply won’t rest until I’ve heard the truth. All of it.”
“Ye’re sure?”
Her expression was weary. But determined. “I still have so many questions. Perhaps tonight, I will get some answers.”
“I’ll stay with the ladies,” Tim offered. “You’ve no worries. I’ve brought my pistol, and I’m a good shot.”
“Good enough,” he said, confident he could trust the barkeep’s capable assistant.
Keeping Amelia’s well-being in mind, Finn had wisely suggested that the detective meet with them away from the dismal setting of the jail. Inspector Herrin had agreed, and as Logan escorted Amelia into his office at the Rogue’s Lair, they found the men engaged in an animated discussion. Their conversation came to an abrupt halt as they laid eyes on Amelia.
After informal greetings were exchanged, Logan quickly got to the point. “I understand ye have news on Mansfield.”
Exuding nervous energy, Inspector Herrin paced the floor. “Cecil Mansfield deceived many in his path. His gallery served as a front for his criminal activities. We have evidence he ordered the killing of Jack Turner, the man who attacked you, as well as several other murders.”
As the detective laid out his findings, Logan observed Amelia as she took it all in. Her brother had crossed paths with an evil man whose greed had run unchecked until Logan sent him to hell.
“Inspector, it’s logical to conclude that Mansfield had Turner killed after he was in police custody to prevent him from telling what he knew.” Amelia was direct. “But the intruder seemed desperate, perhaps even frightened, when he accosted me in the library. Can you explain why he was in such a state?”
“As we understand it, Jack Turner was not acting on Mansfield’s orders that night.” Inspector Herrin’s expression was solemn. “This will be painful for you to hear, but you deserve the truth. Your brother became entangled in Mansfield’s criminal dealings. As a result, Turner and another ruffian weresent to silence him. They were also ordered to retrieve the art Mansfield had offered as a bribe.” The detective paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if to ease a sudden ache. “When they failed to recover the drawing, Mansfield suspected a double-cross. Turner’s accomplice met a rather ugly fate. When he realized he was next, Turner became desperate to find the sketch. And then, he came after you.”
Her complexion paled. Logan restrained the urge to mutter an epithet. Damn the brutes who’d dragged her through this ordeal.
Composing her features, Amelia spoke in a quiet, calm voice. “But why did Mansfield wait until after my brother’s death to come after the drawing?”
“He prided himself on his cunning and stealth. Often, his victims weren’t even aware they’d been robbed. When the Paris burglary led to murder, he blamed Turner and his two accomplices. One of them was stabbed to death the night before Turner came after you.”
Logan mulled the detective’s words. “And the other accomplice killed Turner to ensure he wouldn’t talk.”
Herrin nodded. “Frank Fincham had worked as a guard at the jail and killed Turner in his cell. Now the rotter won’t stop running his mouth. He thinks incriminating a dead man in his crimes will save him from the hangman.”
“He’ll be joining Mansfield in hell soon enough,” Logan said coolly.
“Indeed,” the detective agreed.
Finn turned to Amelia. “Do ye know a man who goes by the name of John Niles?”
Even more color drained from her face. “He was one of my brother’s associates.”
“The name is an alias. He was born John Stanton. The man’s an art thief wanted in London and Dublin for his crimes. Hewas working with Mansfield to retrieve the Caravelli sketch,” the detective explained. “He knew your brother had hidden the drawing. They searched his residence, then went after Miss Talbot with no success. So they concluded he had hidden it in either your library or your flat.”
Amelia went to the window and pulled back the curtain, taking in the cool night air. Her shoulders were taut with tension. “Are there others... who might come after me?”
Inspector Herrin did not hesitate with his response. “At this time, we believe Mansfield’s conspirators are dead or behind bars. But you would be wise not to let down your guard. Not yet.”
“Not to worry.” Logan joined her by the window, clasping her hand within his. “Yer brother trusted me to keep ye safe. Ye’re mine to watch over. As long as it takes.”
