name,” he said, and stuck out his hand.
Cooper gave his hand a wrench. “Pleased to meet you. Name’s Cooper.”
“A bookkeeper, you mentioned?” Coffen said. “That’s your line of work?”
“Yes, I work for a living. A mere mortal, unlike that lying, cheating scoundrel — Ah well, he’s dead now.” He shook his head in angry frustration.
“Really? You don’t say. Got what was coming to him, eh? What happened?”
“Shot to death, as he deserved.”
“Murdered! That’s a caution. Who did it?”
Cooper let go of his ale long enough to toss up his hands. “I don’t know, Mr. Prance, and I don’t care. He’s dead, and she still won’t have me.”
“Word to the wise, Mr. Cooper, you mustn’t rush your fences. Give her time to settle down, get over him. Er, about who did him in, he had a host of enemies I fancy, a cur like that.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, Mr. Prance. I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t take a shot at him yourself.”
Cooper’s shoulders sagged. “If I was a better man, I would have called him out. He lied to her, Mr. Prance. He wasn’t a rich man, as he led us to believe. Oh he had some way of getting money, but it wasn’t a regular income that came on quarter day, like a gentleman. Cards, I’d say, by his collection of IOU’s. He knew nothing about business or investments. I tried to tell her no safe investment paid ten percent, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Thank goodness she did speak to her own man of business and he advised her against Russell’s trumped-up investment plan. Something to do with shipping. But Russell didn’t give up. He explained that away and came up with some other havey-cavey business to get his hands on her money.”
Coffen nodded, thinking of that house on Grosvenor Square Miss Fenwick had mentioned. He took note as well that it must have been Cooper who called at Russell’s flat posing as his brother, or how did he know about those IOU’s?
“I tried to catch him at it, but he was too sly for me,” Cooper continued. “I’m too timid. I should have charged him to his face, but that would have meant a duel. Shooting and duels — that’s no work for a bookkeeper. He’d have killed me. And she wouldn’t have liked it.”
“Any idea where he was getting this money, Mr. Cooper?”
Mr. Cooper’s close-set eyes glinted with malice. “ Cherchez la femme, Mr. Prance,” he said. “I’d wager that was his line of business, diddling women out of their money.” He lifted his glass and found it empty.
“Have another,” Coffen suggested. “My treat.”
“Best not or I’ll be no good at work tomorrow. Nice chatting to you, Mr. Prance.” He stood up, took his modest greatcoat with only one cape from the back of his chair and put it on, picked his curled beaver up off the floor and walked away on steady legs, not a bit bosky.
Coffen waited a moment and followed him out. Cooper was half a block away, just turning a corner. Coffen followed him at a discreet distance, having trouble to keep up with him. He soon realized Cooper was heading in the direction of Russell’s flat. P’raps they were neighbors. Cooper turned the corner again and by the time Coffen got there, Cooper had disappeared, probably into one of the small houses on the street. He wasted a few minutes walking up and down, trying to decide which house — they all had lamps lit — but decided it didn’t really matter.
Nothing to do but head home. Now where the deuce was he? He turned around and headed for North Audley, where he hoped to hail a hackney. After two blocks he realized he was going in the wrong direction and reversed his direction. This route took him past Russell’s building again and as he approached it, he saw someone turn in. One of the lodgers, no doubt. If he hustled he could have a word with him. He might have something to say about Russell. He increased his pace, and saw the man was not only wearing a hat but
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