Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] by Princess Charming Page B

He’d known better than to wait till morning before making his report. Gerrard was so obsessed about the damn portrait that he’d given orders that he was to be informed of any new development at any time of the day or night.
    “Well?” prompted Gerrard irritably.
    Wheatley swallowed a sigh. “I had Bloggs and Kenny on shifts watching Rowland’s place of employment. He’d given notice, but he had wages to collect. When he came to collect them, Bloggs spotted him and followed. But Rowland didn’t lead him to the maid. He went to Sackville’s house, and there are no maids in Sackville’s house.”
    Gerrard interrupted with a small sound that spoke volumes, thought Wheatley. A very moral man was Gerrard, or so he liked to think—no smoking, no drinking, and no fornicating except as necessary to keep a man healthy. He regarded Bertie Sackville as beneath contempt. Anyone who was anyone knew about Bertie’s parties.
    Yes, a very moral man was the Right Honorable Hugo Gerrard. The only thing was, morality was whatever he decided to make it. Wheatley had no illusions about himself. He was a thoroughgoing villain, but at least he knew it.
    Gerrard was watching him, so he went on, “When they got to Sackville’s house, Rowland entered it through a basement window. Bloggs followed, but Rowland must have spotted him at some point, because he was waiting for him. There was a scuffle andRowland came off the worse. Bloggs applied pressure, you know what I mean, and asked about the maid and the portrait, but Rowland denied knowing anything. As I told you, Bloggs didn’t mean to kill him, but Rowland wouldn’t talk. All he would admit to was that he was the man in the boat and he’d only agreed to help Lady Mary for the money. It seems she promised him a fat purse if he would get her away.”
    At the mention of Lady Mary, Gerrard linked his fingers and squeezed till his knuckles showed white. That small gesture convinced Wheatley that once the portrait was recovered, Lady Mary’s days were numbered. He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand why Gerrard couldn’t break her so that she would tell him what he wanted to know. She was like a whipped cur to begin with. Where had she got the courage to turn on her master?
    “Why did Rowland go to Sackville’s house?” demanded Gerrard.
    Wheatley shrugged. “Bloggs never got around to asking him that.”
    “There must be a reason. What do you think?”
    “To see or speak to someone who he knew would be there. I really don’t know. But first thing tomorrow, I’ll get onto it. It probably has nothing to do with the portrait or the maid. Maybe someone owed him money and he went to collect it. There could be any number of reasons. We may never know why.”
    “What about the maid, Gracie?” asked Gerrard.
    “She may have left the city by now. She must know we’re after her. If I were her, that’s what I would do.”
    “And if she hasn’t?”
    “There’s an Open House at the library on Friday. We think she may try to contact one of the ladies then. The place will be crowded with people and we’ll be there.”
    “You think, but you don’t know?”
    Again, Wheatley shrugged.
    Gerrard suddenly leaned forward, making Wheatley straighten in his chair. The older man’s eyes were bulging and his breathing was audible. “This is not a game we’re playing,” he said. “This is in deadly earnest, and you’d better remember it. I want to know why Rowland went to Sackville’s house. I want you to find the maid. I want to know who has that portrait. You’ve had a whole week, and all you’ve given me so far is a footman who expired before he could tell us anything.”
    He was breathing hard now, sucking long breaths through his teeth. “Now you listen to me. Rowland was murdered. I’m not sorry he’s dead, but if we don’t find the maid soon, she could make things very unpleasant for us. I want her found. I want her dealt with. And I want that portrait, and