William Monk 17 - Acceptable Loss

was going to faint, he took a step toward her. She backed away sharply, almost as if she feared he was going to strike her.
    “Margaret!” he said hoarsely.
    “No!” She shook her head and put her hands up to ward him off.
    “No. You’re lying.”
    “I’m sorry—,” he began.
    “Sorry! You’re not sorry. You made this happen,” she accused. “If you hadn’t put your career before your family—”
    “I couldn’t defend him.” He was burning with a sense of the injustice of her charge. “He was guilty, Margaret. He killed Mickey Parfitt.”
    “Parfitt was vermin,” she retorted. “He should have been killed.”
    “And Hattie Benson?”
    “She was a prostitute, a whore who was going to lie to protect Rupert Cardew.”
    “Protect him from what? He didn’t kill Parfitt. And you’ve just said Parfitt needed killing. You can’t have it both ways.”
    The tears were running down her cheeks, and she was gasping for breath. “My father’s been murdered, and you’re standing there justifying yourself! You’re disgusting. I used to love you so much, because I thought you were brave and loyal and you fought for the truth. Now I see you’re just ambitious. You don’t even know what love is!”
    He felt as if he had been slapped so hard that his flesh was bruised. He stood without moving as she turned away and walked to the door. When she was in the hall she looked back at him. “I’m going home to look after my mother. She will need me. I will send for my belongings.” With a rustle of silk and the sound of her footsteps on the floor, she was gone.
    Rathbone could not measure how grieved he was or how deep the wound, or how, and if ever, it would heal.
    T HE OVERCAST WAS SO heavy that it was dusk before five in the afternoon. Monk came home to find a fire, bright and warm in the parlor, and Hester and Scuff sitting beside it. There was a pot of tea on the table between them, and they were eating hot crumpets withbutter. Scuff had crumbs on his chest. He was sitting in Monk’s chair and looked a little guilty when Monk opened the door, but he did not move. He was waiting to see what would happen, maybe how much he belonged here.
    Hester stood up and walked over to Monk. She kissed him on the cheek, gently, then on the mouth. He slid his arms around her and held her until she pulled back.
    “I know,” she said softly. “Crow came and told us. Someone murdered Ballinger in his cell.”
    Monk looked past her at Scuff. The boy was watching him, waiting, the crumpet held in his hand, dripping butter onto his clothes. His eyes were wide.
    “It isn’t the way I would have chosen,” Monk replied. “But maybe that’s an end of it. It’s hideous for Rathbone, and for Margaret, but there was never anything we could have done to change that.”
    Scuff was still watching Monk.
    Monk smiled at him. “No more river trade on those boats,” he said.
    “What about them pictures yer was lookin’ fer?” Scuff asked.
    “I don’t know. Maybe they’re destroyed, maybe not. But they’re only pictures. If the people in them get blackmailed, we’ll worry about that if we ever get to know. Finish your crumpet before it’s cold.”
    Scuff grinned and took a big bite of it, scattering crumbs onto the floor, and onto Monk’s chair.
    “Next time the chair’s mine,” Monk said with a nod.
    Scuff hitched himself a little farther back against the cushions and continued smiling.

EPILOGUE
    Codicil to the last will and testament of Arthur Hall Ballinger.
    To my son-in-law Oliver Rathbone I leave all my photographic equipment: cameras, tripods, lighting, and such photographic plates and negatives as have already been exposed.
    They are to be found in my bank, in my private safety deposit.
    I trust there is some heaven or hell from which I may observe what he does with them.
    Arthur Hall Ballinger

To Lora Fountain

B Y A NNE P ERRY
    (Published by The Random House Publishing Group)
    The Sheen on the Silk
    F EATURING W ILLIAM M ONK
    The Face of a Stranger
    A Dangerous Mourning
    Defend and Betray
    A Sudden, Fearful Death
    The Sins of the Wolf
    Cain His Brother
    Weighed in the Balance
    The Silent Cry
    A Breach of Promise
    The Twisted Root
    Slaves of Obsession
    Funeral in Blue
    Death of a Stranger
    The Shifting Tide
    Dark Assassin
    Execution Dock
    Acceptable Loss
    F EATURING C HARLOTTE AND T HOMAS P ITT
    The Cater Street Hangman
    Callander Square
    Paragon Walk
    Resurrection Row
    Bluegate Fields
    Rutland