Alex rushed to the place Frobisher told him about, trusting the other man was telling the truth, either out of remorse or a sense of duty.
He stood in front of a church still under construction, the very same church where the murder of Randolphus Lyle occurred. It now seemed as if that first killing was only for practice, and where else but a building Hanchett knew well?
The nave was mostly done, and the tall tower that was likely the belfry loomed over the property. Hanchett financed some of the building, Frobisher had told them. The broken man confessed he thought it was a sincere desire to invest in the church. But Hanchett likely had another reason.
“He never used a bank, he didn’t trust anyone with money, not a coin,” Frobisher had said.
So Hanchett probably kept all his money in a hidden spot in the building. It was a clever choice. No one looked for treasure in a church, and no one would expect to find anything in a building still being built.
Alex saw just a flash of movement, but that was enough. Hanchett was there, hiding somewhere up above.
He took a deep breath, then moved out into the open. In Frobisher’s borrowed clothing, Alex had to trust that he looked enough like the other man from a distance that Hanchett wouldn’t shoot him in the back.
Following the instructions he’d been given, Alex walked to the place where the altar would be. A lantern stood there, and Alex stooped to light it, just as Frobisher said he was told to. It was a signal that Hanchett would be watching for. A way to tell him that Frobisher had carried out his task. Now, Hanchett should be confident that all was going according to plan.
Alex actually smiled when he turned to the staircase up to the tower. He couldn’t wait to meet Hanchett this time. The staircase to the top of the tower was newly built, but felt rickety all the same. The wooden risers squeaked with every step. Hanchett would hear him long before he could be surprised. Once again, he had to trust that wearing Frobisher’s distinctive coat would fool the other man long enough for Alex to get close.
At the top, he held back for a moment.
“Frobisher, are you finally here?” Hanchett’s voice filtered around the corner where Alex waited.
“I’ve obeyed the serpent handler’s orders,” Alex said, trying to match Frobisher’s voice.
“Took you long enough,” Hanchett grunted. “But then, Ophiuchus would never give you a task you weren’t capable of completing. Come up here. I’ve got something for you to take.”
“Yes, sir!” Alex said.
“And hurry. I can scarcely lift this.” That voice was feminine. With a jolt, Alex recognized it as belonging to Judith. He hadn’t been counting on that.
But there was little he could do at this point. Alex kept his head tilted down. The hat’s brim would shield his face for a second longer.
He stepped into the doorway.
Hanchett and Judith stood outside, on a narrow walkway that ran the length of the roof’s peak. At both ends of the walkway was a door. Hanchett must have concealed the money in the front bell tower, which was only accessible from the roof. And Alex now blocked the way out, down the only staircase to the ground.
Both man and woman were burdened with heavy canvas packages.
“Come, come,” Hanchett said impatiently. “There’s another load in the tower still. We must—”
Judith’s scream interrupted his words. “He’s not Frobisher!”
“You noticed,” Alex drawled.
She pulled the bags toward her again, ignoring the weight she was just complaining about. “You can’t take this from us! We earned it!”
“I earned it,” Hanchett corrected, with a dark look at Judith.
“Oh, and I didn’t help?” she snapped. She looked at Alex. “Why are you here?”
“She doesn’t know?” Alex asked Hanchett.
“Know what?” Judith demanded.
“Your lover instructed Frobisher to kill me. Just as he did for the past four victims. You probably remember Mr Mason. And you definitely knew Miss Gilroy.”
“Mr Frobisher would never hurt his Susanna!” Judith said, disbelieving.
“Her death weighed on him the most,” Alex said. “But he remained loyal to Ophiuchus, the Serpent Handler. As it turned out, Ophiuchus was just Hanchett, using a mix of coersion and trickery to make a troubled man into a useful tool.”
Judith looked back at Hanchett. “He’s lying, Daniel. Isn’t he?”
“Of course he is,” Hanchett said quickly.
“Doesn’t explain why Hanchett chose this night to move all his money from its rather good hiding spot. What’s changed?” Alex turned to him. “Why didn’t the stars tell you that I was coming? Or that Violet never believed a word you said?”
Hanchett growled, “Get out of the way.”
But Judith was caught up in Alex’s revelation. “Violet told you something?”
“Violet told me everything she remembered about her father’s involvement in the society, and how it led to his death, and she remembers it all now, thanks to you.”
“What will we do?” Judith asked Hanchett. “If the Duchess of Dunmere says something, people will talk.”
Hanchett snarled. Whatever plans he had were ruined now. Alex could almost hear him thinking of new ways out.
“Frobisher will speak against you,” Alex said to Hanchett. “And Mrs Peake’s involvement will certainly destroy her socially. Unless,” he said to Judith, “you can help me.”
“I’ll tell you everything he told me about where he got his money. I can tell you how he found new people to join!” She stepped closer to Alex, anxious to make herself useful.
In her haste she dropped the bag she carried. It fell to the roof and then tumbled over. Hanchett yelled at her. “You idiot, you lost it. Go fetch it back!”
“Back?” Judith stared at him. “It’s on the ground now. What do you want me to do? Fly down?”
“Oh, hell.” In disgust, Hanchett pushed Judith hard to the side.
She had no warning, and no chance to catch her balance. Before anyone could reach her, she fell. She didn’t even scream as she tumbled to the sloping roof, slid down, and tipped over the edge. Only when she disappeared from view did a short, thin wail rise up, only to be silenced a second later.
Alex was completely stunned for a second. “Not much to be gained for those loyal to you,” he managed.
“She was loyal to money first.” If Hanchett regretted what he’d just done, it didn’t show.
“So you killed her?”
“Well, she just threw something of mine away, didn’t she?” Hanchett growled. “Get out of the way, or I’ll send you over, too.”
“I won’t go alone,” said Alex.
Something in his voice made Hanchett hesitate. Then he shrugged. “Move back. You don’t want to risk death.”
“You don’t know me very well.”
“Think of your wife, then.” Hanchett warned, more anxiously, “Move back, and I’ll let you live.”
“Let you walk away?”
“Why not?” Hanchett said. “What harm have I done you personally? I arranged for you to marry a new bride. I just got rid of—let’s admit it—a rather annoying relative. And I never actually stole a pound from you. Let me vanish, and everything will be forgotten.”
Alex took one step back. Hanchett mimicked it.
“There,” he said. “Just walk back.”
Alex took another step, balancing despite the narrow walkway and the height of the building. Now was a terrible time to remember that his depth perception was not to be trusted. A straight line is a straight line, he reminded himself.
Hanchett moved whenever Alex did, never getting too close. But as Alex got closer to the doorway, the other man tensed up, giving Alex one second of warning. Hanchett couldn’t stop from taking a deep breath. Then he was hurtling himself at Alex, intent on shoving him aside to follow Judith down the roof.
Alex ducked down, flattening himself as low as he could. Hanchett shrieked, missing his target. Instinctively, he spun around to get another chance at Alex. But he misjudged his own balance. He fell, clawing madly at the roof tiles. He got hold of something, and kept himself from falling.
“Help me,” he gasped out.
“Not inclined to,” Alex said, getting up.
“Please! I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Everything you have to offer belongs to someone else.”
“You won’t let me die! You’re not that kind of man!”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know you wouldn’t have come all the way up here only to come back empty handed! Please!” Hanchett lost his grip with one hand, scrambling to get hold again. Two more bags of money went skittering down the slate roof tiles, lost in the darkness below.
“I suppose it’s easier to take you down the stairs than pick you up from the ground.” Alex shifted. He reached Hanchett and put one hand out. “Take hold,” he said.
Hanchett was too desperate not to. He allowed Alex to haul him up and inside the belfry. Hanchett lay on the wooden planks, breathing heavily.
“Let’s go.” Alex didn’t want Hanchett to get his breath, or have time to think up new mischief.
“I can’t walk,” Hanchett protested, though with a sly look on his face.
Alex moved toward him. Hanchett sprang up, anticipating him. But he wasn’t ready when Alex slammed his fist into his face. Hanchett dropped to the floor again, unconscious.
Alex took a few breaths. Then he dragged his catch down the stairs like a sack of flour. The bruising might prove instructive.
At the bottom, the Disreputables Jem and Rook were waiting, along with two more men Alex didn’t recognize.
“We came as soon as Frobisher was safely put away. What’s needed?” asked Jem.
“There’s a body outside on the south side,” Alex said. “Along with a few sacks, likely filled with money. And I need to get this man to a place where he can’t run away.”
He got into the carriage with Hanchett, who was just beginning to stir.
“What will be done with me? I’ll hold my own in any court of law, you know.”
“Possible,” Alex agreed, “but we’re not going to a court of law. At least, not officially. In the meantime, why not tell me how it started?”