William Monk 11 - Slaves of Obsession

died … in very tragic circumstances.…” He drew in his breath and let it out in a sigh. “He had tried to get more work as a model, but each time with less respectable people. He was … somewhat naive, I think. He expected a standard of morality that did not exist in the circles in which he moved. He was misunderstood. Men thought he was offering sexual favors, and when he refused they became angry and put him out on the street. I suppose rejection very often produces such emotions.” He stopped, his face filled with pity.
    This time it was Casbolt who took up the thread, his voice earnest.
    “You see, Mr. Monk, poor Gilmer, whom I also helped financially on one occasion, was found dead several months ago in a house known for male prostitution. Whether they merely sheltered him out of compassion, or if he workedthere, is not known. But it made any money passed to him, whether a gift or a payment, fall under suspicion.”
    “Yes, I see that.” Monk could visualize the picture very clearly. He was not sure precisely how much he believed, but it was probably irrelevant. “Someone has discovered proof of this gift of yours and wishes you to continue it … only to them?”
    A flicker crossed Alberton’s face. “It is not quite as simple as that, but that is the substance of it. It is not money they wish. If it were, I could be tempted, to protect my family, although I realize that once you have paid there is no end to it.”
    “It also appears to be an admission that there is something to hide,” Monk added, hearing the edge of contempt in his own voice. Blackmail was a crime he loathed above any other kind of theft. It was not just the extortion of money; it was a form of torture, long-drawn-out and deliberate. He had known it to drive people to their deaths. “I’ll do all I can to help,” he added quickly.
    Alberton looked at him. “The payment they want is one I cannot give.”
    Casbolt nodded very slightly, but there was anger and pain in his face. He watched Monk intently.
    Monk waited.
    “They want me to pay them in gun sales,” Alberton explained. “To Baskin and Company, a firm which I know is merely a front for another which sells directly to pirates operating in the Mediterranean.” His hands were clenched into fists till his knuckles shone white. “What you may not know, Mr. Monk, is that my wife is half Italian.” He glanced momentarily at Casbolt. “I think you heard mention of it at dinner. Her brother and his wife and children were murdered while at sea off the coast of Sicily … by pirates. You will understand why it would be impossible for me to sell them guns in those circumstances.”
    “Yes … yes, of course I do,” Monk said with feeling. “It is never good to pay blackmail, but this is doubly impossible. If you give me all the information you have, I will doeverything I can to find out who is threatening you, and deal with it. I may be able to find proof that your gift was no more than compassion, then they will have no weapon left. Alternatively, there may be the same weapon to use against them. I assume you would be willing for me to do that?”
    Alberton drew in his breath.
    “Yes,” Casbolt said without hesitation. “Certainly. Forgive me, but it was to form some judgment of your willingness to pursue a difficult and even dangerous case to the conclusion, to fight for justice when all seemed stacked against you, that I asked you so much about yourself earlier in the evening, before you knew the reason why. I also wished to see if you had the vision to see a cause greater than satisfying the letter of the law.”
    Monk smiled a trifle twistedly. He also took few men at their word.
    “Now, if you would tell me how they got in touch with you, and everything you know about Alexander Gilmer, both his life and his death,” he replied, “I will begin tomorrow morning. If they get in touch with you again, delay them. Tell them you need to make arrangements and are in the process of doing so.”
    “Thank you.” For the first time since he had mentioned the subject, Alberton relaxed a little. “I am deeply obliged. Now we must discuss the financial arrangements.”
    Casbolt reached out his hand. “Thank you, Monk. I think we now have room to hope.”

2
    M
ONK HAD DESCRIBED
the case to Hester on their way home from the Albertons’ house. She was entirely at one with him about his acceptance. She found blackmail as abhorrent as he did, and apart from