Page 71 of The Detective and the Baroness

“It’s locked.”

“I know nothing about how it’s locked as I’ve never used this entrance,” Corrine stated.

“Right, Baroness. Why would you use a servants’ entrance?” he sneered.

“There are keys on that hook,” Corrine said. “Maybe one of them opens this door or the pantry.”

Mitchell slowly headed to the door of the storage room. Danaher had left it open. He heard the sound of keys jingling. Peering into the kitchen, he saw that Danaher and Corrine had their backs to him. Danaher was distracted as he removed keys from their hooks.

Mitchell did not hesitate. He moved forward, tucked the cane under his arm, picked up the tea tray, and flung it as far as possible. The sound of broken china and the silver tea service clattering across the tiled floor created enough of a distraction that he was able to jump Danaher when he wasn’t looking. Mitchell raised his cane to hit Danaher on the head, but he turned slightly, and Mitchell caught his shoulder instead. Danaher yowled in response. Mitchell didn’t hesitate. He swung again, this time hitting Danaher’s hand. The pistol skidded across the floor, and both men lunged for it.

Corrine kicked it across the room, then chased after it just as Danaher rolled on top of Mitchell, punching him in the jaw. Mitchell saw stars and was momentarily knocked senseless.

Danaher scrambled to his feet. “Is this the leg that caught my bullet?” Danaher stomped on Mitchell’s injured leg, sending a radiating wave of hot pain through the limb. “Too bad I didn’t aim a little higher!”

Mitchell groaned and, with his good leg, kicked Danaher’s legs out from under him. He hit the floor hard. Though he could hardly see straight through the haze of agony, he grabbed Danaher by the hair and smacked his head against the tiles.

Danaher groaned but grabbed Mitchell’s arm, about to bite him.

“Enough!” Corrine cried. “I have this revolver pointed right at you, Danaher. Do not move.”

Mitchell pushed Danaher away, then struggled to get to his feet. It took a moment or two, but he managed it. “Well done, darling,” Mitchell said proudly to Corrine. “You kept him talking and distracted him enough for me to get to him.”

“That is what I was hoping to do. He picked the rear door lock. That’s how he got in. He knows about the loan money. My father told him.”

Mitchell frowned. And her father never warned her? Miserable bastard. “Here, I’ll take the gun. Drew has a telephone in his study. Ring the Marylebone station and ask for Mahone. The operator will connect you.”

“Right away.” Corrine hurried toward the stairs. Then she stopped and blew him a kiss before ascending the stairs. God, how he loved her.

“You’re a blasted pain in my arse, always interfering in my business,” Danaher grumbled. “Addington shot first.”

“Tell the police when they get here. You’re not as bright as I gave you credit for. You should have left the city when everyone believed you dead. But instead you stayed, all because of money.”

“That old sod owed me!” Danaher yelled.

“Shut it. I don’t want to hear anymore.” And he didn’t, for his leg throbbed like the very devil.

*

Police officers and detectives swarmed the bottom flat of Gloucester Square. They stood in the sitting room arguing over who would take possession of Danaher. F Division, Paddington, was there because Drew’s home was located in that particular district. Inspector Stanhope was there from Mitchell’s division, wanting Danaher for the kidnapping and fraud charges in Notting Dale. Ultimately, Mahone, from Division D, Marylebone, won the first pick as murder trumped all the other charges.

Two uniformed officers escorted Danaher toward the door. Danaher was cursing everyone within earshot. Two more uniformed police followed behind, along with the police and detectives from the other divisions.

“As far as other charges—” Mahone stated, “—the kidnapping in Notting Dale and his other criminal activities, everyone will get their turn.”

“Will he be charged with murder?” Corrine asked. “He claims my husband fired first.”

“I just came from speaking to his son. He awoke this morning. Cillian claims they came to collect money owed, but the safe was empty. He says Addington pulled the gun from the safe and fired. We’ll get to the bottom of it. But my guess is that Danaher will end up in Newgate. Anyway, I have your initial statements. We will require a more detailed version of events in a few days. I will be in touch.” He held out his hand to Mitchell. “Well done, Sergeant and Baroness. You make quite a formidable team.”

Mitchell shook it. “I am relieved Danaher is in custody.”

“Good afternoon, my lady. Doctor Hornsby.” Mahone touched the brim of his hat and departed.

“Well, that was quite the scene to come home to,” Drew murmured as he sat on the sofa. “Danaher here? In this flat? Unbelievable. Who would have thought he was desperate enough to seek out Corrine like that? The late baron should have gone to the police when Danaher first showed up at his door,” Drew concluded.

Corrine came to stand beside Mitchell. She slipped her arm through his, and when he looked at her, Corrine gave him a warm smile. “Drew is correct. Travis should have gone to the police. Mr. Dobson, his solicitor, practically begged him to. Why he thought he could handle Danaher himself, we will never know. I did not know Travis at all; that is plain.”

Mitchell patted her hand. “He thought he was protecting the barony, I suppose. It was rash—and dangerous. And he paid with his life.”