Page 63 of The Chef and the Countess

Chapter 19

Liam walked into complete bedlam. Customers yelled, pointing at the floor at the coins and pound notes covered with spilled drinks and smeared food. Bruce and the remaining two uniformed policemen tried their best to control the situation.

Sergeant Morrisey walked toward one of the officers and held out his hand. “Your whistle, Murray.” The copper handed it over, and the detective blew it, the shrill noise cutting through the loud din. A tense silence settled over the room. The detective inclined his head toward the crowd, indicating Liam to speak.

“I do apologize for the uproar and inconvenience. We have never had this happen before. I assume the pub will be closed the rest of the night?” Liam looked toward Morrisey.

“I am afraid I must insist,” the detective replied.

“Only three tables were upended. I suggest those whose tables are still upright gather their money and any other belongings and depart—unless you wish to speak to them, Sergeant.”

“Murray, did you collect names and addresses?”

The policeman nodded. “I got everyone’s.”

“Then those men can leave,” Morrisey stated.

“If you return tomorrow night, there will be a free round of drinks on the house,” Liam stated. “I assure you, something like this will never happen again.”

The men groused as they collected their possessions, some muttering under their breath, and Liam felt he had just lost some steady customers. Blast it.

“As to the money on the floor, there is no way to know who had what amount,” Liam continued. “I suggest we gather, count, and divide the money evenly. It’s the fair way to go about it.”

“Look here, Hallahan, I know exactly how much I had on the table!” one man yelled, his face red with anger. Some of his customers started complaining, some nodding in agreement, others shaking their heads in disbelief.

Morrisey blew the whistle again. “If you gentlemen prefer, I can take all the money back to the station as evidence, and God knows when or if you will ever see it again. What the owner proposes is just. I suggest you follow his direction in the matter.”

“Bruce,” Liam waved the ex-boxer over. “Are you well?”

“Aye, Liam. Fiona wrapped my arm. The doctor said he would come and tend to me soon. He had a glance and said I’ll be fine.”

“Good man. Gather up the money, sit at this table, and count it. Let me know when you have an amount.” Liam turned toward Morrisey. “Can one of the officers assist him?”

“Of course. Northrup, help the man.”

Morrisey took Liam’s arm and led him away. “I am curious. How do you make money on this gaming?”

“I collect a flat fee as they come in and another when they leave. It’s how the previous owner did things. I also make money on liquor and beer sales and serving food.”

“Where do you keep this money?” Morrisey asked as he wrote in his notebook.

“There’s a safe in my office.”

“This episode does not sound random. In talking to your patrons and the staff, they claim these men entered the pub to cause trouble, not to rob it. They made lewd comments to the waitresses, grabbed someone’s pint of bitter, threw it around, and upended the trays the staff carried. When your man approached them, that’s when the knives came out. They never mentioned or moved toward the money lying on the tables or demanded that anyone open your safe. They were there to cause trouble and harm your business. Why?”

Liam hesitated. He recalled his promise to Darrington that if he were interfered with, he would give their names to the coppers. No time like the present. “Shinwell owes me two hundred and forty pounds from cards. That’s the reason he brought his cousin here, to work off the debt. I refused and, in turn, could not bring myself to turn the countess onto the streets. I went to their residence to collect, but the viscount declined. So, instead, I made a deal with the earl.”

“What kind of deal?”

“In exchange for the money owed, the earl would furnish his wife’s address in Italy and 35 pounds for the stress the countess endured. You see, Shinwell stole her remaining few pounds before he unceremoniously dumped her here.”

Morrisey whistled low in his throat. “What’s this about a shed fire?”

Liam explained the particulars and how the fire brigade found oil-soaked rags. “The station officer, I think his name is Brannigan.”

“I know him,” Morrisey murmured as he continued to write in his notebook. “And I have the address of the earl’s residence. But I want to offer a word of advice. Allow the police to investigate, and do not enflame this situation further. Do you understand? I won’t have you acting as a vigilante. I will keep you informed every step of the way.”

Liam frowned. “And how will you prove Darrington and his smarmy son are involved? It will be next to impossible.” Liam wondered if he should mention the earl’s alter ego--Billy Buck--and his criminal doings. He hadn’t told Celia about it as yet, and figured it would be best to keep that information to himself for now. If Liam had learned anything from living on the streets, he knew not to reveal all his weapons at once.