Chapter 30 – Haley and Massey

Haley tracked Massey down at the Swineherds Club. Garrod led him to the private room and knocked, but there was no answer.

“He’s in there?” Haley asked.

The manager nodded.

Haley opened the door and went inside.

Ryder Massey was sitting at a small dining table with the remains of a modest lunch pushed off to the side. There was an untouched glass of wine in front of him, and a cigarette smoldered in his hand.

He’d heard the door open and raised his eyes. When he saw who was there, he leaned back in the chair.

“You.”

It was a simple statement; Haley was recognized.

The inspector tried to size up Massey’s condition. He was unhappy—that was obvious—but he didn’t seem drunk. It was more like he was hungover. When the earl turned his head, the light from the window landed on his face. Haley could see some fading bruises and scratches along his cheekbone.

“You didn’t answer the knock,” Haley said.

“I didn’t want to see anyone,” Massey said.

“You’ll see me, my lord.” Haley walked over and sat down in the chair across from him.

“Are you here about Dominic’s murder?”

The inspector nodded.

Massey rubbed his forehead. “How can I help you, Inspector?”

“I have some questions for you.”

“I didn’t do it. There. Now that’s out of the way.”

“Everyone says that. Most people are telling the truth.”

“What kind of questions could you even have for me?”

“I’m exploring possible motives for Winfield’s murder. It helps to know about him and his life. You were a friend of his.”

“Yes. Or, rather, I liked him, and he set me up with dinner and a drink every now and then. Maybe that’s good enough.”

“Did he confide in you?”

“Some.” Ryder smirked. “Not much. We talked, but he was a private man. Still, I was around him a lot, so I might know him better than most people.”

“You were around him because of the broken hearts club?”

A faint smile touched Massey’s lips. “Ah. You’ve been talking to Edward, haven’t you?”

Haley nodded.

“And what did that beloved skunk of a friend tell you? Did he mention the ancient Greek chorus lines where we’d join arms and wail together over our sundered futures?”

“I understand you attended regularly. Why did you go?”

“They needed a tenor.” The earl lifted the cigarette to his mouth.

“And the real reason?”

There was a quiet determination in Haley’s voice that made Massey glance at him. The inspector was sitting back with his arms folded, watching the earl’s face.

Ryder looked away. “I enjoyed it. I told you I liked Dominic. Edward is a good friend of mine, and Fitzmon isn’t bad company. Look—Haley, isn’t it?—is this important? Aren’t you supposed to be going after Winfield’s murderer?”

“I am. Was Winfield in love with Eleanor Serrs?”

Massey’s hands started shaking. When the earl saw Haley’s eyes drop to the trembling cigarette, he stubbed it out.

“Inspector, I don’t know how you can expect me to answer that question. You know why it was called the broken hearts club. Do you honestly think that if he loved her, he would confess his tender adoration to us?”

“You’re saying you don’t know?”

“He didn’t tell me anything.”

“That’s not what I asked, my lord.”

Once again, Massey lost the staring contest.

“He fell in love with her somewhere along the way. You could tell. He tried to act natural, but you can’t really hide something like that. If I’m being honest, I found it rather sickening. Even the great men fall, apparently. I wept for him then, and I’ll have to weep again for him now.” Massey added, almost under his breath, “What a waste.”

“Do you know how long Winfield knew Lady Serrs before he asked to court her?”

The earl shrugged. “I think Edward had introduced them once or twice.”

Haley’s mind shifted around that idea. Something wasn’t right, but Massey was unaffected, and it didn’t look as if he was lying.

“I thought you said he was in love with her,” Haley said.

“I did.”

“And my understanding was that Duke Aubrey-Serrs didn’t seek Winfield out.”

“That’s correct. Dominic went to him. At first His Grace”—a slight sneer accompanied the title—“turned him down flat. Then, for whatever reason, the duke reconsidered and magnanimously gave him permission to try his hand.”

Massey pulled out his cigarette case and opened it.

Haley watched without seeing him. In his mind, the inspector was busy going over everything he remembered, everything he’d heard, about Dominic Winfield. The man had seemed sensible and pragmatic, almost to the point of cynicism. It didn’t make sense.

“How did Winfield fall in love with Lady Serrs if he’d only met her once or twice?”

Every once in a while, Massey had an ugly smile. It usually appeared right before he said something sarcastic, but this time it appeared because he could gloat over the fact he knew something that Haley didn’t.

“I think we’re talking at cross-purpose,” Massey said. “I never said he loved her before he asked to court her. He fell in love with her as they spent time together. Dominic Winfield courted Eleanor on a bet.”

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“What?”

“Oh, you heard me right.”

“That seems like a bit high of a wager—a man gives away his whole life?”

“Not really. You have to understand the circumstances.” Massey pulled out a cigarette, closed his case, and put it back in his pocket. “You see, Dominic wanted to get married. He approved of the idea of it—I don’t think he ever would have accepted the wager otherwise—but he wasn’t in love with anyone, and he thought that most women were pretty much the same.”

The earl reached for the matches he’d left on the table. As he lit one and put it to his cigarette, he said, “We were relaxing here at the club, and I was moaning about what a frigid bitch Eleanor was—”

The earl was waving out his match, so he missed the change in Haley’s expression.

“—and the others started to tease me—great friends—saying that it wasn’t that she’d turn down everyone, only that she had the excellent taste to turn me down. Well, Dominic was about as different from me as it’s possible for a man to be, so we bet him he couldn’t woo her to the altar.”

“And he accepted?”

“If we’d had a knife handy, I think Edward would have had him take a blood oath he’d follow through—”

“Edward? Edward Comtess?”

For a maddening three seconds, Massey sat there with his cigarette in his mouth and said nothing. Then he slowly removed it and blew out a hazy cloud.

“Did you think I meant Fitzmon?”

Haley didn’t answer.

Massey smiled again. “Yes. It was the Right Honorable Lord Edward Comtess. One hundred and fifty dollar wager from me. One hundred fifty from Edward.”

“Who else knew about this?”

“I told Fitzmon about it when they started courting. I don’t know if Eddie told anyone.”

“Did you ever tell Lady Serrs about the bet?”

“No! God! That would have been cruel.”

“I thought you didn’t like Lady Serrs.”

Massey waved his hand. “It wasn’t like that—”

“‘Frigid bitch’—wasn’t that your phrase?”

“Look, Inspector, Eleanor is a nice girl. I didn’t like being turned down, but I wouldn’t tell her something like that.”

The earl’s indignation seemed authentic.

He went on, “Dominic swore on his life he’d follow through, and things were going so well, I started wondering how much time I had to pull together the money. Then he showed up one day and handed us a stack of bills without a word. So he became an official member of our club.”

There was a brief silence, then Haley said, “What did you think of Eleanor Serrs?”

Massey reached for the glass of wine and took a large swallow. “I told you last time I had the honor of talking to you, I don’t love her.”

“I’m not asking about now. I’m asking about when you were courting her.”

“I thought I had made that clear.”

“You insulted her using a term that most men wouldn’t apply to a whore, and then you said you thought she was a nice girl. Forgive me if I’m confused.”

Massey took another swallow, made a face, and put down the glass. “In my experience, most women flirt. They give some sign—some indication—that they appreciate your attention. Eleanor couldn’t be coy if her life depended on it, so I had no way of knowing that she wasn’t interested in me until she rejected my proposal. That’s a very uncomfortable place to be.”

“Were you interested in her?”