The Sceptred Isle Club

Brent Monahan

Description

In 1905, John Le Brun makes his first excursion to England to visit import broker Geoffrey Moore. Le Brun and Moore became friends six years earlier while Le Brun was Sheriff of Brunswick, Georgia and enmeshed in a perplexing murder case at the very exclusive Jekyl Island Club. Now retired, the self-taught Le Brun is fulfilling a long-standing dream of measuring himself against the greatest minds in the greatest city of the greatest empire of that era.
Upon his arrival, Moore introduces Le Brun to the social world of the 'men's club' - hundreds of which exist in and about London, where men of similar backgrounds and often great power meet. Chief among Le Brun's new acquaintances is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, author and inventor of the great fictional detective, Sherlock Holmes. While visiting the Sceptred Isle Club, where the ex-sheriff is scheduled to give a lecture, Le Brun and Doyle hear a series of muffled gunshots. A tandem investigation reveals that several prominent men have been murdered inside the gambling room, where the inner door was locked and the heavily-bolted outer door was inexplicably unlocked. There are no survivors, no suspects, and no signs of either the weapon used in the crime or the thousands of pounds being gambled.
Le Brun is retained by the club to solve the murders and preserve its reputation. Moving as a stranger in this Edwardian world of elegance and privilege, John Le Brun must unravel a Byzantine crime whose purpose has wide-reaching implications for the entire British Empire.

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Historical
• Inglaterra
• Detective
• Arthur Conan Doyle
• Mystery
• Sherlock Holmes
• Georgia
• England
• Brunswick
• Fiction
• London

Informations

• Publié par: Turner Publishing Company
• Date de parution: 22 mars 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781681620336
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE SCEPTRED ISLE CLUB
John Le Brun novels by Brent Monahan
The Jekyl Island Club (Book 1)
The Manhattan Island Clubs (Book 3)
The St. Simons Island Club (Book 4)
available now
The St. Lucia Island Club (Book 5)
new release for Fall 2016
THE SCEPTRED ISLE CLUB
A JOHN LE BRUN NOVEL
by
Brent Monahan
Turner Publishing Company
424 Church Street Suite 2240 Nashville, Tennessee 37219
445 Park Avenue 9th Floor New York, New York 10022
www.turnerpublishing.com
The Sceptred Isle Club, A Novel
Copyright 2002, 2016 Brent Monahan. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design: Maddie Cothren
Book design: Glen Edelstein
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Monahan, Brent, 1948-
Title: The Sceptred Isle Club / by Brent Monahan.
Description: Nashville, TN : Turner Publishing Company, [2016] | 2002 | Series: A John Le Brun novel ; book 2
Identifiers: LCCN 2015035663| ISBN 9781681621135 (softcover) | ISBN 9781681620329 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Le Brun, John (Fictitious character)--Fiction. | Sheriffs--England--London--Fiction. | Men--Societies and clubs--Fiction. | Murder--Investigation--Fiction. | Americans--England--Fiction. | GSAFD: Historical fiction. | Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3563.O5158 S28 2016 | DDC 813/.54--dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015035663
Printed in the United States of America
15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For
Rosemarie Monahan who loved mysteries
Contents
PROLOGUE Wednesday, October 18, 1905
ONE Wednesday, October 18, 1905
TWO Thursday, October 19, 1905
THREE Friday, October 20, 1905
FOUR Saturday, October 21, 1905
FIVE Sunday, October 22, 1905
SIX Monday, October 23, 1905
SEVEN Monday, October 23, 1905
EIGHT Tuesday, October 24, 1905
NINE Wednesday, October 25, 1905
TEN Thursday, October 26, 1905
ELEVEN Friday, October 27, 1905
TWELVE Thursday, April 20, 1906
About the Sceptred Isle Club
About the Author
PROLOGUE
Wednesday, October 18, 1905
Timothy Burke walked under the enormous clock in London s King s Cross Station. The clock s hands indicated 10:32. He had arrived two minutes late, which he knew would be a problem. He swept the waiting room with his eyes. He had expected the place to be largely deserted at such a late hour, but travelers and employees alike plodded in and out. As he had been instructed, he moved to an empty bench close by the clock that had another empty bench directly behind it.
Burke had with him a shoe box tied up with string. He set it on the floor behind his feet and opened a copy of The Strand Magazine . He scanned the paragraphs of a detective story with no interest. Presently, he heard the rustling of a newspaper behind him.
If you re late here, how dependable will you be on Saturday? asked the holder of the newspaper. The words, spoken in a forceful whisper, gave the voice an androgynous, almost ghostlike quality.
I came here by foot and misjudged the walk, Burke defended, holding up his magazine so no one would see his lips moving, assuming the newspaper holder was doing the same behind him.
Perhaps you should ride less and walk more.
He guided the shoe box as far back as he could with his heel.
Inside it, cushioned in crumpled newspaper, lay two Belgian-made Galand service revolvers. They were a poor choice of weapon for killing beyond twenty feet, but more than adequate for the close-in slaughter the recipient intended. There won t be any trouble on Saturday, Burke said in firm, measured tones.
There had better not be. You must have everything assembled well in advance.
I know. I ve already got my ticket for the train.
Have you purchased a whistle?
I have.
The safety of the one we both love hangs in the balance.
I am well aware of that. You really don t have to lecture me, Burke said.
You got all day Saturday and Sunday off?
Yes. Cost me two crowns for the favor. Speaking of money, I ll need some, for the guns, the lodging, my food, the train, the-
Jesus Christ, don t you put anything aside?
With what you stand to make, you re taking me up on a few bob?
Anything I make is an indirect result. If someone were able to suddenly shift the Thames ten miles south of London, they wouldn t produce the effect we re about to. We shall change the history of the British Empire on Saturday, young man. I should think you d be willing to contribute a few shillings up front.
I m risking my bloody life, defended Burke through clenched teeth.
So am I. When I get up, I ll leave a ten pound note under the bench.
Burke heard the newspaper close.
And, Timothy? the voice said. Don t forget the bottle to collect the blood.
ONE
Wednesday, October 18, 1905
You are sitting with one of the world s best detectives, Geoffrey Moore declared to the other guests at the dinner table.
The beaming smile his promoter offered John Le Brun was halfheartedly returned. In the six years of their acquaintance, John had come to admire Moore for several characteristics. The Englishman s compulsion to fill silences with speech was not one of them. One such silence had punctuated the conversation at the captain s table aboard the Empress , but only for a moment.
I m just a simple sheriff from Georgia, Le Brun asserted, to ten sets of widened eyes. My friend likes to brag on me.
And well I should, Moore insisted. He was seated at the bottom end of the table for twelve, directly opposite white-bearded Captain Reginald Winslow. John sat to Moore s immediate right, making it easy for the Englishman to focus past his scowl. He solved a murder at the most exclusive men s club in America. Have you heard of The Jekyl Island Club?
Two heads nodded. Four shook no. The rest perched on their necks unmoved, as if they belonged to waxwork dummies.
It lies off the coast of Georgia, and its members are the wealthiest in America, Moore shared. Membership is strictly limited to one hundred, but that handful controls one-sixth of the entire country s wealth. The Vanderbilts, Rockefellers, Goulds. What s more, Mr. Le Brun solved the case while President McKinley was visiting. Saved the life of J. P. Morgan as a bonus.
My, my, said the woman seated directly across from Le Brun, arching a respectful eyebrow. She had been introduced as Alice Lamb. She looked to be about thirty and seemed to come from money. Peacock feathers and tortoise combs adorned her curly brown hair. She wore an evening dress of black satin with cut velvet motifs and rhinestone details, trimmed with Chantilly lace. The bodice was cut low so that an impressive rope of pearls could rest upon her flawless white neck and upper chest. For added effect, she raised her right hand and covered the lowest arc of the necklace, as if to suppress her thumping heart. It would seem that you are too modest, Sheriff Le Brun.
John noted the slight slur in her voice from overindulgence in champagne. No. Too lucky.
The group laughed dutifully, guessing there was humor somewhere in Le Brun s reply.
The only luck he had was that Joseph Pulitzer is also a member, Moore bulled on. The newspaperman was able to help Mr. Le Brun deduce that the club s physician, of all people, was the murderer.
Oh, yes. Pulitzer is a genius, a woman named Davenport seated close to the captain asserted. Not at all embarrassed at having stolen Le Brun s thunder, she asked him, How long ago was this?
Six years, John replied.
And how was it that we didn t hear about such an incident? her bookish-looking female traveling companion inquired.
For the same reason that these folk chose an island a thousand miles from New York, John answered. They don t like the rest of the world knowin about their affairs.
Wintering resort, is it? Alice s husband asked. Raymond Lamb looked not much older than his wife. His evening dress was impeccable, his dark hair pomaded with brilliantine. He sat as erect as if he had a lightning rod for a backbone.
That s correct, John replied. He rearranged the snapping fresh linen napkin on his lap.
A true wilderness from civilization. I expect you picked up your skills from the College of Hard Knocks, Lamb said, through a smarmy smile.
I had plans to attend university, but a long war intervened, John replied, with a stare that dared Lamb to make light of the War of the Succession. The man declined. Which university did you attend?
Columbia, Lamb announced with overloud pride, his eyes roaming the table to collect the looks of admiration.
Fine school. And what have you done with such excellent education, Mr. Lamb?
Lamb s elbows rested on the edge of the table. He made a tent of his hands and smiled over it. Oh, I ve dabbled in several businesses. Real estate, mostly.
John studied the man s soft hands and perfectly manicured fingernails. Not the dirt variety of real estate , he thought. He will never drown in sweat .
The conversation shifted resolutely to the precipitous climb in the price of Manhattan property, as if everyone had believed Geoffrey Moore was indeed exaggerating and glad to be done with the tale of the super-rich and murder. John was relieved to be dismissed as a topic of conversation. He glanced slowly around the grand dining room, with its twelve tables and one hundred and forty first-class passengers, all as well behaved as children at their first high tea. Every night, a different set of first-class passengers was bestowed the honor of sitting with the ship s captain. John felt more comfortable with the group he and Moore had assembled during the first day s voya