William Monk 13 - Death of a Stranger

it into the stove with the paper. He had thought about it!
    “Hope he hasn’t destroyed it,” Runcorn went on. “But even if he has, people will know he had another coat, and how will he explain its disappearance?”
    Monk said nothing. His mouth was dry. Where could he find another button and replace it? If he went to a tailor Runcorn might find out.
    Runcorn held up a third finger. “And she had accused him of being involved in fraud; we know that she hired you to prove it!”
    Monk licked his lips.
    “Disprove it, actually,” he countered.
    “And he wanted to cast her aside and marry the Baltimore heiress,” Runcorn went on relentlessly. “That’s more than motive enough.”
    Hester was looking silently from one to the other of them.
    “Only if we prove the land fraud,” Monk argued. “And Livia Baltimore is probably quite comfortably off, but she’s not an heiress.”
    “She will be when Baltimore and Sons sells its railway components to India,” Runcorn answered vehemently. “It will make them all rich, and it will only be the beginning. The money will go on and on.”
    Something flickered in Monk’s brain, then vanished.
    “What is it?” Runcorn demanded, looking at him more closely.
    Monk sat motionless, trying to bring it back, to catch something of it from the edge of his mind, but it was gone. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
    Anger flared for an instant in Runcorn’s eyes, then was replaced by understanding. “Well, if you remember, tell me. In the meantime, I’ve got to tie Dalgarno into the fraud better.” His tone of voice had a lift at the end, as if waiting for Monk to complete the thought for him.
    “I’ll help,” Monk said immediately. It was a statement. He intended to whether Runcorn agreed or not; it would simply be easier if he did.
    Runcorn must have searched the rest of Katrina’s house. Had he found any letters from Emma? There would be a return address on them. Dare he ask? What excuse could he give?
    The moment slipped away.
    Runcorn gave a wry smile. “Thought you would.” He pulled a sheaf of papers out of his pocket, maybe half a dozen or so, and for an instant Monk felt as if he must have spoken aloud. “Got these from Miss Harcus’s rooms.” Runcorn looked at him, all shadow of even the most bitter humor gone from his eyes. “They’re order forms and receipts from Baltimore and Sons. She really suspected him. She must have gone to a lot of trouble, and risk, to take these. She was a brave woman with a passionate love of honesty.” He held the papers high in his hand. “No matter how much she loved him, she wasn’t going to protect him from fraud. Even though when she started out suspecting, she was still betrothed to him, so in time she would have shared with him whatever he got out of it.” He shook his head very slowly. “Why are people such fools, Monk? Why did he want dishonest money more than a really fine woman? Not as if she wasn’t handsome as well, and young.”
    “Precisely because she was honest, I expect,” Hester replied for him. “She loved him in spite of what he was, not because of it. Maybe his pride couldn’t live with that. He wants admiration.”
    “Then he’d have to have been a saint,” Runcorn said in disgust. “As it is, he’ll swing for her. Sorry, Mrs. Monk, but he will.” He held the papers out to Monk. “Here, take these and see if you can find anything. I’m going to follow the Baltimore money and see just how much of it ends up with Dalgarno, either now or if he marries Miss Baltimore.” He turned to Hester. “Thank you for the tea. I apologize for disturbing you.”
    She smiled and rose to see him to the door.
    Monk stood in the center of the room with his hands clenched and shaking, the papers crumpled by the power of his grip.

    Monk read very carefully through everything Runcorn had left with him. There were no letters to implicate Dalgarno in anything but the desire to make as large a profit as possible, and that was common to all businessmen. There was nothing illegal, nothing even underhanded. All they showed was that Dalgarno was involved in every aspect of the survey, bargaining for and purchasing the land. But that was part of his duty. Jarvis Baltimore had apparently dealt with the purchase of timber, steel and other necessary materials for the track itself, and Nolan Baltimore had overseen the whole enterprise and concerned himself with the government and the competition. The fiercest