Beautiful Blood

“Don’t see no sign stopping you,” said Rosacher, affecting his country accent.

Breque lowered himself and, after he was settled, said. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Beg pardon?”

“A long time since we’ve spoken. It must be nearly a decade.”

Rosacher scratched behind his ear. “I don’t reckon I understand what you’re getting at.”

Breque’s mouth twitched, as if he were suppressing a smile. “I know who you are, Richard. You can drop that ridiculous accent.”

Rosacher kept silent, thinking that he could bolt deeper in under the wing and perhaps elude pursuit among the folds.

“If you believe I’m here to harm you,” Breque went on, “let me assure you that is scarcely the case.”

“It might be more persuasive if your man were to put his rifle down.”

“Don’t concern yourself with him. He’s here to safeguard me, not to menace you.”

“A fine distinction, that,” said Rosacher. “Since one seems a corollary to the other.”

Breque gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ve known where you were for almost the entire time you’ve been missing. Mister Honeyman’s death and the absence of a body to counterfeit your own…I always suspected you were alive, though Ludie insisted otherwise. I think it was wishful thinking on her part and, once I found you, I saw no reason to disabuse her of her belief. Anyway, I’ve been keeping an eye on you all these years.”

A freshet of rain pattered on the scales, diminishing almost instantly to a sprinkle.

“For what purpose?” Rosacher asked.

“You’re a clever man, Richard. That’s reason enough. Who can say to what ends your cleverness might be directed?”

“I have no plans to move against you. I wish to be left to my own devices. Nothing more.”

“Well and good,” said Breque. “I’m relieved to hear you bear me no malice. But the point I’m making is this—if I had wanted you murdered, I’ve had ample opportunity to accomplish that goal. I consider you a valuable resource. In fact, I have treated you as such in your absence from the business and continued to pay a percentage of our profits into your accounts. And I have allowed you to siphon off however much product you required for the functioning of the House.”

Startled by this, Rosacher managed to maintain a neutral expression. “I purchase mab from…”

“From the Bornish Brothers in Port Chantay. You pay less than cost, a token amount, because the Bornish Brothers Trading House is owned by you…or rather by your proxy, Samuel Mountroyal.”

Rosacher did not care for the fact that Breque knew his business and he presumed the reason Breque had enlightened him was to make him aware that he was no longer in control. “Why have you come here?” he asked.

“I wish my visit could have been made under happier circumstances,” said Breque. “Though I realize your relationship with Ludie must have been strained, to say the least, I imagine there likely is some residual emotional attachment.”

“Get to the point, won’t you?”

“She’s dead,” Breque said. “She went riding on East Crescent Road yesterday evening. Apparently she took a fall and split her head open on the rocks.”

It was as if Rosacher’s head had been enfolded in a warm cloth that muffled his senses. Moods swirled about him. At one moment he felt sorrowful, distressed to the point of tears, and the next relieved that she would no longer be a problem.

“Ludie?” he said. “Ludie’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Who was with her?”

“To the best of my knowledge, she was alone. In recent years her drug use had increased to reckless proportions. Opiates, mainly. On several occasions, I’m told, she fell asleep while riding and took a tumble. I suppose that’s what happened in this instance.”

Anger flooded him, replacing the cold that had begun to hollow out his bones. “I don’t give a damn what you suppose! Who stands to profit by her death? Has her will been read?”

“No, but I was a signatory to her last will a year or so ago,” said Breque. “She may have had it reworked since, but I’m not aware of it. There were a number of small bequests, and she expressed the desire that her holdings in the company be placed in a public trust that would benefit the citizens of Morningshade.”

That shocked Rosacher, being a breach of the agreement he had made with the Church in twenty-five years. “Who is to administer the trust?”

“A law firm. Lawrence, Behrens, Ecclestone and Associates. Are you familiar with them?”