Heavens, where had this come from? “Are you referring to my cousin Charles?”
“Of course.” She lifted stormy hazel eyes to mine, daring me to dispute her claim.
I most definitely dared.
“You’ve been misinformed, Caroline. I don’t know who told you such a malicious lie, but I’ll thank you not to spread it further.”
She raised a brow. “Are you saying he was not arrested by the police?”
We’d moved closer to one another, our whispers like the hissing of cats.
“That is precisely what I’m saying. Because he was close to Mary, the inspector in charge had questions he hoped Mr. Evingdon could answer. He was never arrested.”
“I heard the only reason he was let go was because his brother pulled some strings. That doesn’t negate his guilt.” She gave me a glare of pure venom. “I know what the two of you are about. You’re trying to find someone else to blame for dear Mary’s death. That’s why you visited me, hoping to learn of some disagreement between us.”
Clenching my teeth, I barely held my temper in check. “You are wrong, Caroline. And if you spread this rumor any further, you will unfairly blacken my cousin’s good name and make yourself an object of ridicule when the murderer is discovered.”
She drew herself up and raised her chin. “The truth will out,” she said. Pulling open the door, she stormed out to the street.
The truth will out if I had anything to say about it. And just when had her sister-in-law become “dear Mary”?
Chapter 18
My head was already spinning with information by the time we returned to the house and I prepared for our meeting with Delaney, but I was still eager for his findings. As I made my way back downstairs with one of Lily’s sketch pads, I met Mrs. Thompson on her way up to tell me she’d left the gentlemen in the drawing room. Perfect. I gave her instructions to bring tea and stepped in to greet them.
George was comfortably ensconced on the sofa, his arm draped across the back. Delaney perched on the edge of the chair next to him and Charles, looking very ill at ease, paced behind the sofa. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to have him in a room with Delaney, but George had brought him, and he usually knew what he was doing. The two seated men stood until I joined George on the sofa, the sketch pad in my lap. I planned to document our information and try to make sense of this case.
“An excellent idea, Frances,” George said. “Perhaps we’ll see some connections.” He turned to Delaney. “Since we both have information about Mrs. Archer’s murder, would you prefer to discuss her case before we discuss Mr. Norton’s investigation?”
Delaney nodded. “The coroner puts her time of death on Tuesday evening, no later than eight o’clock,” he said. “We also know the man seen at her house could not have been Mr. Norton because he returned from picking up her columns at about seven.”
“Crikey, please tell me you’re not considering me a suspect once more.” Charles’s face was drawn in concern.
Delaney pursed his lips as if he’d rather not speak at all. “No,” he said, finally spitting out the word. “As it turns out, one of the neighbors confirmed your story just last night.”
George raised a brow. “You’re still interviewing neighbors?”
“The gentleman who lives across the way from Mrs. Archer left to visit a relative Wednesday morning. The constable posted at the house saw him return yesterday and took his statement. He recognized your chaise when you drove past the house, having seen it a few times at Mrs. Archer’s in the past weeks. Apparently, he admires your equipage.”
“Ah! A good eye,” Charles said with a bit of bluster.
“Yes, well, he confirmed you didn’t stop that night, but just drove by.”
“Did he see the other man?” I asked.
Delaney grimaced. “Not well, but he did see someone leave her house and climb into a carriage waiting around the corner.”
“If the man was not the editor, nor Mr. Evingdon, do you assume he’s the murderer?” So far, I’d written nothing on the sketch pad aside from the time of death.
“We do.” Delaney gave me a firm nod. “Particularly because witnesses noticed a man fitting the same description near the Daily Observer offices at approximately half past eight that night. He emerged from the alley that runs to the back of the building. Mr. Norton was last seen in his office shortly after seven o’clock. As two of the clerks were leaving for the day, they walked past his office and bid him good evening. He told them to latch the front office door before they left through the back door, leaving it unlocked. They claim Norton was the last person in the building aside from the printers.”
George leaned forward. “The printers were in the building when Norton was murdered and they neither saw nor heard anything?”
“Unfortunately, no. The printing operation is quite noisy so the machine room is isolated from the offices in another building across a small yard. Once the presses are operating, the workers would have no idea of the comings and goings in this building. But one of them stepped outside with his pipe about half past nine and noticed all the windows were dark. If Norton were alive and working, he’d have lit the lamp by then.”
Mrs. Thompson knocked on the door just then and brought in the tea things. The interruption allowed me time to jot down the few things we’d covered. Once she left, and we were all served, I perused the notes.
“If Mary was murdered no later than eight o’clock, and the clerks saw Norton at seven, can we even tell which of them was murdered first?” I turned to Charles. “What time did you drive by Mary’s house?”
“Between seven and half past.”
“Half past seven? I thought you said it was dark.”
He frowned. “It was dark. It was raining. Clouds overhead, mist settling in. That’s why I couldn’t see the other man clearly. If he was the killer, I’d say he got to her first.”
“Would that give the murderer enough time to travel to the newspaper offices before eight?”
“He had a carriage nearby. At that time of night traffic into the city would be light. I think he could do it with ease,” George said.
I went back to my writing. “All right, then. Mary was murdered around half past seven and Mr. Norton no more than an hour later. Other than the unknown man, I don’t suppose your constables found any clues at either location?”
“Nothing other than the files at Mrs. Archer’s house. And we don’t yet know how helpful they’ll be. Mr. Norton’s office was chock-full of odds and ends.” He pulled his notebook from his pocket and leafed through the pages. “The inspector from that case gave me a detailed inventory.”
He handed the list to George. I moved behind the sofa to read over his shoulder. Just the usual things one would expect to find in an office.
George returned the list to Delaney. “Would have been helpful if he’d left a calling card.”
Delaney tsked. “Criminals these days.” He folded the page back into his notebook.
I bit my lip as a thought struck me. “Do you know what else is missing?”
All three men turned to me. “The column. Not that I would expect it to be part of the inspector’s inventory, but we know it’s missing because Mr. Mosley told us.”
“Mosley told you something was missing from the office, but he didn’t mention this to the police?” Delaney’s bushy brows were drawn dangerously low.
I held up a finger. “He didn’t exactly tell us it was missing.” I paused to collect my thoughts, certain two of the men in this room thought I was wasting their time. Charles likely didn’t care.
“I wrote two columns for Mr. Mosley. One was to be published on Wednesday and the other on Thursday. But when Mr. Hazelton delivered them, Mr. Mosley insisted I write one more. He wanted to keep to his regular schedule and Mrs. Archer always delivered three columns on Tuesdays—one each for Wednesday through Friday.”
My announcement was met with blank stares.
“Mosley only ran a column on Wednesday and Thur
sday. He didn’t have one for Friday because the killer took it.”
Delaney scowled. “Isn’t it just as likely she deviated from her schedule?”
“No,” George said. “Lady Harleigh’s correct. Mosley insisted I return with the additional column as they never deviated from the schedule.”
“If the killer took it,” I continued, “it suggests Mr. Hazelton’s theory is correct. Mary and Norton were about to expose someone. He murdered them and took the evidence.”
George shook his head. “He took the column. We still have the files so we may well have the evidence here.”
“How are they sorted?” Delaney asked. “Did she keep the notes after she’d written the columns?”
“Yes, but what she wrote about in her regular column would hardly incite anyone to commit murder. I think we’ve found the note that’s caused all the trouble. We just haven’t determined what it means.”
I stepped over to the card table to retrieve both copies of the note, remembering, belatedly, that we’d now have to explain where we found the second copy. I handed them both to Delaney and glanced expectantly at George as I settled in next to him. He pursed his lips and leaned forward.
“I suppose it’s our turn to contribute information,” he said. “One of those notes was in Mrs. Archer’s files. The other we found at Norton’s home.”
Delaney brought his hand up to his face and massaged his jaw. “Just how did you get in there?”
“Housekeeper let us in.” George gave him an innocent smile and relaxed back into the sofa.
“Housekeeper?”
“Mrs. Wiggins. A charming woman.”
“The point is,” I interrupted, “Mary made a copy of that note and gave it to Norton, which leads me to believe it’s important. It was also one of the teasers we published Wednesday.”
I explained to Delaney about including the hints of this scandalous material in the columns I wrote. “Only two of which have been published so far. I suspect this particular hint drew the attention of the man who visited Mr. Mosley at the Observer yesterday.”
Delaney jerked his head up from his notebook. “What do you mean by ‘visited’?”
“Someone made a surprise visit to the office and spoke to Mosley in a threatening manner,” George said. “The man railed about the Miss Information column running again, and after creating quite a ruckus, he turned tail and ran when two other men from the office arrived at Mosley’s door.” He shrugged. “He did not provide his name, but he also fits the rather vague description of the man from the scene of both crimes.”
Delaney frowned. “A name would have been most helpful. When did you say this happened?”
“Yesterday,” I said. “So, it’s possible he was alarmed by the publication of this note.”
“Whose initials are these?” Delaney tapped the note with his finger.
“We weren’t able to decipher this one.”
He studied the note and narrowed his eyes. “This first group of initials could be businesses. W-H & S, for example. Hardly sounds like a person’s name.”
I leaned in to peer over his arm as he held the notes.
SSE, CTS, W-H & S, CACC. 6 March, 1898. LH, SH, LM, LR at least J.
“You’re right. The first group of initials are unlikely to refer to individuals. I hadn’t thought of businesses.” Nor had I ever seen the notes side by side. “They’re in two different hands. The newer one is Mary’s writing, but I don’t recognize the hand on the older note.”
“I’ll take these back with me and set my sergeant to searching for names of businesses that match these initials.” I stopped him before he could tuck both notes into his book.
“May I keep the older one? I’d like to see if we have anything else from her files that matches the handwriting.”
He handed over the note. “I’ll station a constable at the newspaper office,” he said.
“We warned Mosley this column might attract some unwanted attention. He was supposed to engage some type of security,” George said.
Delaney gave a disgusted grunt. “Whether your column drew his attention or not, it’s too much of a coincidence. His intruder fits the description of our murder suspect. Both victims were involved in writing a column for the Observer. And this man turns up at their office, throwing a fit about the column returning. He may be our man. I’ll speak to Mosley tomorrow and see if he can give me a better description.”
Delaney jotted some notes in his book and glanced up. “Is there anything else?”
“The three of us visited Mrs. Archer’s house today.” George held up his hand at Delaney’s thunderous glare. “Mrs. Carr, Mary’s sister, escorted us, as Mr. Evingdon might be interested in purchasing the house.”
Delaney waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Of course he is. I assume you are confessing this only because you found something of interest there?”
“I’m not entirely certain. Did your men leave her study in disarray after their search?”
“They shouldn’t have done.” Delaney inched forward in his seat.
“That was the condition we found it in when we arrived, as though someone had upended all the drawers and spilled their contents onto the desk.”
“I’ve had a constable stationed there since the murder.”
“I saw him,” George said. “Two nights ago, to be exact. He was removing Gordon Archer from the property.”
“Yes, that was in Constable Evans’s report. Archer said he was simply ensuring the place had been locked up.”
“I don’t mean to suggest Constable Evans was negligent in his job, but is it possible Archer had already been inside the house when the constable found him?”
Delaney raised his brows. “You ask this because you found the house in disarray?”
“Only the study. If it wasn’t your men, that means someone else was inside.”
“Or someone managed to get in last night while your constable questioned the neighbor,” Charles suggested.
“As much as I’d like to vouch for my men, I didn’t see the room after they left. I’ll check with Constable Evans though. Is there some reason you suspect Archer of entering the house other than the fact you saw him outside the property?”
“I have reason to suspect him,” I said. “I spoke to both of the Archers briefly at the funeral and their attitude about Mary’s murder was unsettling at the very least. They came very close to saying it was her own fault.”
Delaney’s brows drew together. “When I spoke to them they seemed quite distraught by the matter.”
“At the funeral they claimed that by associating with a lower class of people and living on her own she was courting trouble. They were upset by her death, but still rather cold about it, especially Mr. Archer.”
I held up a hand before he could reply. “Today I met up with Caroline Archer at the dressmaker. She was highly incensed that I brought Mr. Evingdon to her house two days ago because she understood he was a suspect in her dear sister-in-law’s murder.”
“Where did she hear such a thing?” Charles banged his fist on the back of the sofa, making George jump. He’d been so quiet I’d forgotten he was back there.
“I thought we’d managed to keep that quiet,” he added.
“She didn’t tell me where she heard it, but she was under the impression you’d actually been arrested, and I had the sense she’d find it very convenient if you were charged.” I turned back to Delaney. “She accused me of visiting her with the hope of finding trouble between the Archers and Mary.” I shrugged. “Of course, we were, but frankly her shift in attitude about Mary is suspicious, as is Mr. Archer’s attempt to break into Mary’s house.”
I lifted my hands in a helpless gesture. “Can you question him about that?”
Much to my surprise, Delaney agreed. “I’d like to speak to him about the break-in at his sister-in-law’s house, and I’d also like to find out how he learned we’d brought you in for questioning.” He nodded to Charles. “We did keep
that quiet.”
Delaney’s glance took each of us in. “Anything else?”
George chuckled. “No, I think that’s about all we have.”
We all came to our feet. “I’ll continue to work on that note,” I told Delaney as I walked him to the door. “Will you tell us what you learn from Mr. Archer? I realize I have no official capacity, but I’d like to know if you arrest him.”
Delaney stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Lady Harleigh, I’ve come to enjoy working with you in this unofficial capacity. But you know nothing about police work.”
I bristled, but he held up a hand before I could speak.
“I’m going to talk to Archer about the break-in, but if he has any type of excuse, and I suspect he does, I have no cause to arrest him. We need a lot more evidence than we have now. So, unless I can lead him to a confession, you shouldn’t expect to hear about an arrest.”
He opened the door and stepped out. I made my way back to the drawing room where George and Charles were both seated on the sofa now.
“Delaney has no intention of arresting Gordon Archer,” I said, dropping wearily into a chair.
“What? Not even for you?”
I looked up to see George grinning at me. I scowled back.
“There’s not enough evidence, Frances, and you shouldn’t put all your suspicion in one basket, as it were. Why are you so determined to see Archer as the culprit? There weren’t any notes about him in her files.”
“We haven’t dug through the cache from our pillaging yet,” Charles said with a glance toward George’s document case.
“I think that’s an excellent place to start.” He rose to his feet. “Find some evidence that points to Archer, and Delaney may just accommodate you with an arrest.”
“Wait, aren’t you going to help us?”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “I’ve some work of my own to do but I have every confidence in the two of you. If there’s something to find in that case of paperwork, I’m sure you’ll find it.” He smiled as he headed toward the door. “I do have one further suggestion, though. There’s something important in that odd little note. Not only did both victims have a copy, but when it appeared in the column, it struck a nerve with someone. I’d try to find out what it says.”
A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder Page 20