Chapter 34 – Haley and Fitzmon

The next morning, Haley went to the office where Fitzmon worked. Either the marquess was a busy man, or he had a well-trained staff that knew how to help him dodge calls and appointments. The inspector thought an unannounced visit might be harder to avoid.

He walked in and presented himself to the man at the front desk. The secretary paled when he heard Haley’s name.

“I’ll be a moment, sir.”

He returned with a tall, skinny man behind him. From the immaculate suit and confident smirk, Haley thought he could guess who he was about to meet. Very few people feel confident when they’re faced with a policeman.

“Good morning, Chief Inspector. I’m Ryan Geary. We’ve never talked, but perhaps you’ve heard my name. I work as the legal adviser to Duke Aubrey-Serrs and Marquess Fitzmon.”

Haley said “good morning” because telling a lawyer to fuck off was a bad idea.

“Now,” Geary said, “if I may inquire—”

“You may not.”

The lawyer let out a dry laugh. “Now, Inspector Haley, you know that, as a lawyer, I have the right to ask—”

“Neither of your clients are under arrest. If I do arrest one of them, I’m sure you’ll receive a call. In the meantime, I will be speaking to Marquess Fitzmon about the murder of Dominic Winfield, and if you really are representing him, maybe you can tell me if he’d rather do it here or down at the station.”

“Inspector, you’ve already spoken to my client—”

“That was on a different matter. You can’t bluff me, Mr. Geary.”

“And we won’t be threatened!”

Haley pulled a paper out of his jacket pocket, opened it, and held it up. The lawyer stared.

Haley said, “I didn’t realize a presumably innocent man would find answering a few questions so threatening. Judge Honeysett was a little surprised too, but when I explained the circumstances to him, he agreed that it would be important for me to talk to the marquess and issued a warrant to exactly that effect.”

The inspector handed Geary the paper.

“He included his number on the bottom in case you wanted to call to verify its authenticity.” The inspector leaned in and muttered, “For your sake, Mr. Geary, I hope that Fitzmon doesn’t get arrested. I can’t imagine how bad it would look to a jury that I had to present a warrant before he’d even talk to me.”

“It isn’t like that,” Mr. Geary mumbled as his eyes scanned the page. “The marquess is an important man. If any policeman could walk in off the street and demand to talk to him—”

“I had no idea His Lordship had that many run-ins with the law.”

The lawyer glowered at him.

“Now,” Haley said, “is someone going to take me to the marquess, or are you going to continue impeding my murder investigation?”

Geary nodded to the man at the front desk, and Haley was led inside.

In all fairness to Fitzmon, Haley had to admit the place looked busy. People walked around with earnest expressions on their faces. Groups of men were gathered around various tables, looking down at papers and arguing. The people still at their desks were so focused on their own work, they didn’t seem to notice the clamor around them.

Haley’s escort led him over to a side office, knocked, then opened the door.

Haley stepped inside and realized he’d interrupted a small conference.

There were three men in the room, aside from the marquess. They all stared at Haley, as if waiting to hear what he had to contribute, but Gervase Fitzmon frowned and looked back down at the huge map laid over his desk.

With strained civility, he said, “Good morning, Chief Inspector. I presume you’re here to talk to me?”

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

“Can you wait? This won’t take long.”

Haley found a chair off to the side and sat down. Two minutes later, the map was rolled up and the three men left the office. Fitzmon followed them to the door. He leaned out to say something to his secretary, then came back in and threw the lock.

“There. That will give us some privacy.”

Fitzmon motioned for Haley to join him over at his desk.

As the Inspector switched to a closer seat, he said, “A new construction project?”

“Yes.” Fitzmon settled into his chair. “It’s rather important to me. Aubrey-Serrs is still the major investor, but he’s left me in charge of overseeing the project.”

“Is the company always so hands-on?”

“Very much so. That’s why I asked to work with the duke. He and I share the same philosophy when it comes to investing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t invest in something you can’t see or touch, don’t invest in something you know nothing about, and no one takes better care of your money than you do.”

“Then I take it you didn’t invest in the Russian diamond mine that wiped out Lord Massey?”

Fitzmon abruptly stopped and stared at the inspector. “Does this have to do with Winfield’s murder?”

Haley was surprised by the question, but he did a better job hiding his reaction. “Did Mr. Winfield invest in that?”

“I think most of Massey’s friends did. Winfield and I fluttered a little on the chance it might be something, but we were skeptical. I don’t think either of us were surprised when it didn’t pan out.”

“Was it a blow to either of you?”

“I didn’t like it, but it did help reinforce why I do things the way I do.”

“And Winfield?”

“He was calm and accepting. The man knew how to take his losses, I’ll give him that.”

“Does that include losing Eleanor?”

Haley had wanted a reaction, and he got one. Even from across the desk, he saw the marquess stiffen, and when Fitzmon spoke, there was an undercurrent of emotion in his voice—but what he said came as a surprise.

“Chief Inspector, I doubt you know her well enough to call her that.”

At any other time, Haley might have enjoyed the irony of the just rebuke, but the intensity of the marquess’s disapproval seemed out of place.

“Forgive me,” Haley said. “I’ve been spending a lot of time interviewing the people close to her, and they all refer to her by her first name.”

“That doesn’t change your standing.”

“You seem a little possessive of her.”

“She’s my friend. And I know Eleanor well enough, I believe I have the right to speak on her behalf when she’s not receiving her due respect.”

And I’ll bet you’re just hoping I’ll ask if she gave you leave to call her that. Instead, Haley asked, “Do you love her?”

“I’ve already told you I don’t. I’m not in the habit of lying to the police.”

“Did you love her when you were courting her?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“What did you think of her?”

“I thought she was polite and nice, but I also found her shy.”

“Intelligent?”

“Not particularly.”

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“What did you two talk about?”

“Can you tell me what this has to do with Winfield’s murder?”

“Later, yes.”

The marquess jerked back from the unexpected answer. A second passed, then he said, “When I wasn’t trying to woo her, we mostly talked about my work. She found it interesting.”

“And when you were trying to woo her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.”

Fitzmon’s voice rose: “You seem very invested in this, Inspector. Maybe someone should be asking if you’re in love with her!”

The silence that followed that statement was long and cold. Fitzmon was beginning to regret his outburst when the inspector finally spoke.

“Your Lordship, I understand from Lady Serrs that her suitors told her they loved her. I’m trying to figure out if she was lying.”

The marquess dropped his eyes. “She’s not lying. I did say that.”

“If you didn’t love her, why would you tell her you did?”

“Because that’s what you do when you court someone. You say what they want to hear: compliments, praise, sentiment—whatever it takes to win them over.”

“Because even though you didn’t love her, you wanted her for a wife?”

“Eleanor Serrs would be a good wife for any man. Only an idiot of the highest order could fail to see that. She’s well-mannered, well connected, and from one of the finest families in our country.”

Haley lapsed into another silence, but this one was thoughtful rather than ominous.

Fitzmon decided to prompt the detective: “Now can you tell me what any of this has to do with Winfield’s murder?”

The inspector raised his eyes. “Dominic Winfield is the one who sent out the wedding invitations, and we have reason to believe his murderer knew about the plot. That means I have questions for everyone in the broken hearts club.”

A slight frown appeared on Fitzmon’s face.

“Did you meet with them every week?” Haley asked.

“Most weeks. There were a few times I was working.”

“Why did you go?”

“Baron Comtess invited me.”

“I understand that he was hoping to encourage you and Massey to get along after you learned the earl had been courting Lady Serrs.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Were you angry?”

“No man likes to find out he’s been displaced.”

“But you agreed to go to the club meetings?”

“It’s probably not very generous of me, but I was consoled by the fact Massey’s suit went no better than mine. I found him to be less awful after a while, but the main reason I went was because I’m friends with Edward and I enjoyed Winfield’s company.”

“You don’t seem surprised by the idea that Winfield sent out the invitations.”

“It was either him or Massey, and, frankly, Ryder couldn’t afford them. It makes sense it was Winfield.” Fitzmon tapped his finger on the desk several times. “All the same, I am a little surprised. I wouldn’t have thought he was conceited enough to think she’d pick him.”

“Maybe he didn’t think of Massey as competition.”

Fitzmon gave Haley a look to show he knew the bait for what it was and didn’t think it deserved an answer.

Haley said, “Did Winfield have any reason to think you would refuse Lady Serrs?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you ever say anything about not liking her or being angry at her?”

“Have you already talked to Massey?”

Haley didn’t understand why it would matter, but he was curious to see where it would go. “I have.”