“Miss Gertrude seemed exceptionally gay last night. Almost, one could say, giddy.” Amy smiled again, reminded that the woman had said nice things about her book.
He grinned. “I am still trying to absorb the fact that those two lovely sisters enjoy murder stories.”
William had the driver pull the carriage around the back of the house, which hid the vehicle quite nicely from the road.
The house was about half the size of Amy’s family estate, which was the largest house Amy had ever seen. Situated in the village of Old Basing, east of Basingstoke in Hampshire, her home had always felt overwhelming to her, and she had been happy to spend most of her life in her cozy townhouse in Bath.
She gazed out the window at Harding’s house. “This is quite an elegant home.” She turned to William, her brows raised. “I wonder how much of your money is invested in this.”
William climbed from the carriage and reached out to take Amy’s hand. “As I said, he claims it was an inheritance, but one wonders why he would resort to stealing if he had this kind of money in his family.” William continued to hold her hand as they approached the back door of the house.
“Of course, you have since concluded that his story could have been a complete lie.” They stopped once they reached the door. “You are sure there are no servants left?”
“As sure as one could be in these circumstances. I checked with Harding’s solicitor on the pretense of requesting a final accounting of Harding’s work on my finances. During the conversation, I asked about the house, and he said the employees had all left, since it would be some time before a new owner took over.”
“That is another thing we should consider,” Amy said. “Who will benefit from Harding’s death besides those from whom he was stealing? Perhaps a peek at his will would be enlightening.”
“Yes. Good point.”
They walked down the few steps to the door, the one the servants would have used to bring goods into the house.
William approached the door and studied it, then rattled the doorknob. The door opened. “This was left unlocked. Quite careless.”
Before he stepped inside, he looked over at Amy. “I would prefer if you wait in the carriage. There is a possibility that the door is open because someone else is in the house.”
Amy shook her head. “No. If we enter quietly, we can determine if anyone else is in the place.”
William looked to the heavens and sighed. “Stubborn woman.”
“So true,” she whispered.
They entered the house and stood very still, listening for any sounds.
Silence.
William went first, still holding Amy’s hand as they crept along. They stopped every few steps and listened. There was no noise anywhere in the house. With a bit more confidence, they made their way up to the ground floor.
“Where do you suppose the most likely place would be for the files?” Amy whispered, still uncertain if they were the only ones in the house.
“I’m sure he had an office here, the place being so large. But I think our best bet would be to start with the library. I remember from my visits here that he had a large desk there.”
The made their way down a corridor, past a couple of open doors. It felt unnerving to be walking around the home of a man who had been murdered. It left Amy with a feeling of sadness, looking at all his possessions and imagining him being there, relaxing after a long day’s work.
A long day of stealing, she reminded herself.
The library was immense. Every shelf was lined with books. There was even a ladder attached to the bookcase so that one could climb up and fetch a tome.
“Your Mr. Harding was quite the reader.” Amy stood in the middle of the room and turned in a circle.
“Chances are he inherited the books, either when he was willed the home or when he purchased it. I don’t believe Harding was much of a reader.” William moved to the desk and began opening drawers.
“I’ll look around the rest of the room,” Amy said. There were several chairs and sofas along with tables with drawers. It could very well take them all morning just to search this room.
After only about five minutes, William called over to her. “Amy, I found them.”
She hurried across the room. He was holding about four or five files in his hands. “The first one is Lemmon.” He waved a folder.
He placed that file on the desktop and flipped through the others. He pulled one out. “Here is mine.”
“I think we should make a list of these. One of these could very well be the file of a murderer.” Amy shivered.
William dropped the other folders on the desk and opened the center drawer. He withdrew a pencil and pad of paper. “Write down the names.”
He lifted the stack and began to read. “Mrs. Carol Whitney. Mr. David Montrose.” Amy scribbled the list as he read out the names.
William stopped and took in a deep breath. He looked over at Amy as he held the next folder. “Miss Gertrude O’Neill.”
He opened the file and began to look through it. He read the first page, then moved on to the second. “It appears Miss Gertrude started out as one of his clients, but then he must have discovered something about her, because he began to blackmail her.”
“Blackmail her?” Before Amy could process that information, the sound of footsteps walking in their direction had them staring at the door to the library in shock.
William was reaching for her, most likely to find them a place to hide, when Detective Carson and Detective Marsh walked into the room.
“Lord Wethington. Lady Amy. What a surprise!” Detective Carson grinned, his hands fisted at his hips.
CHAPTER 10
William could not believe he’d been so stupid as to ignore the fact that there might be others interested in searching James’s house. He had been so sure it would not be a problem, since there were no staff left, but he had completely forgotten that the police were right on their heels. Who would have guessed that they would get to this location so quickly?
Amy turned away from the detectives and slipped the paper she’d been writing on into the bodice of her dress. Even if the men noticed, they would not presume to search her. And William would never allow it.
Carson waved to one of the chairs. “Why don’t we sit and have a little chat.” Before William moved an inch, Marsh walked over and took all the files out of his hands. “We’ll take those, thank you.”
He nodded at the pile in the detective’s hands. “One of them is mine, and I have the right to take it back.”
Carson grinned again. “I don’t think so, my lord. This is now evidence in a murder investigation. But since you brought it up, let’s discuss why there is a hidden file with your name on it, here”—he looked around the library—“away from Mr. Harding’s office in Bath?”
Amy had taken a seat along with Detective Marsh, who was busy flipping through the pages of his notebook, but William and Carson remained standing.
William crossed his hands over his chest. “I would love an answer to that question myself, Detective. I don’t know why my file is here and not in his office.”
“All right, then let’s move on to my next question. What are the two of you doing here? Are you part owner of this residence?”
“It is quite possible,” Amy mumbled.
William had to swallow his laugh. “No. I am not.” It would probably pay to give short answers rather than incriminate himself. In fact, he should call a halt to this conversation and demand that his barrister be present.
He decided on an offensive tactic. “Detective, I have a question for you. Are we being charged with something?”
Carson frowned. “Breaking and entering sounds reasonable.”
“Except we did not break in. The back door was left unlocked.”
William was happy that both Carson and Marsh looked surprised. “We will investigate that.”
“Naturally,” William said.
Carson continued. “We are
working on the theory that someone Harding was cheating and stealing from saw cause to do away with the man. Since the files here—which are no doubt the files that went missing from his office—most likely contain the names of those who had reason to be happy at Harding’s demise, your name is now on the top of our list. What other reason would there be for you to be so very anxious to retrieve this?”
Amy bristled at the man’s words. “Detective, do you honestly believe that Lord Wethington would shove someone into a river because the man was stealing from him? How about firing the man and turning to legal steps to deal with the situation?” Amy’s eyes flashed with anger, and William’s heart swelled at how she took up for him.
“Lady Amy, based on experience, we have no reason to believe or disbelieve anyone when involved in a murder investigation. What I can say to you and your cohort here is that, once again, you are nosing around police business.”
“I repeat, Detective, I was not nosing around police business but merely attempting to retrieve my file for the sole purpose of comparing the information there”—he nodded at the pile of files—“with my information at home so I could provide it to my new man of business.”
Carson shook his head. “As your lady friend said, there are legal ways to obtain that information. Breaking into someone’s home is not the proper way to do it.”
William’s anger was growing. Mostly at himself for being so foolish and getting him and Amy into a position where the police were now looking at him as a suspect. If they didn’t quickly make use of that list she’d hidden away, he would find himself sitting in jail.
As had been the case the first time he and Amy dealt with these detectives, the men seemed to have blinders on. Although he was certain that they would check all the people listed in the files they now held, William was the one who had been caught trying to get his file back, which would ensure that they shined the light of their investigation straight in his direction.
Whoever it was who had broken into the house before them could be the real killer or merely someone who too was being blackmailed and hadn’t wanted that information to fall into the hands of the police.
But they still had a list of a few of the people whose files had been hidden here instead of at Harding’s office. It was a place to start.
“You will not be charged with breaking and entering, since, given your position and title, you will be in and out of jail faster than we can do the booking process. But hear this”—Carson pointed his finger at William—“if you continue to get in our way, you will be charged—both of you—and although it might not amount to much, it will be uncomfortable for a day or so. And I don’t imagine it will do much for your business reputation, Wethington, or sit well with your father, Lady Amy.”
“Are you threatening us, Detective?” Amy asked, her nose in the air.
William could have placed his hand over her mouth and dragged her out of the room. It was not good to antagonize the police. Certainly not from the position in which they currently found themselves.
“No, my lady. That is not a threat but a promise.”
Amy stood and shook out her skirts. “In that case, Detectives, we will be on our way.”
Carson glared at her but didn’t stop William from taking Amy’s hand and moving toward the door.
“Once again, I remind you not to leave Bath without permission,” Carson said as Marsh closed his notebook. “We will be interviewing everyone in these files, which includes you.”
“I shall notify my barrister. Good day, Detective,” William said as he hurried Amy down the corridor to the back door. They practically ran to the carriage and climbed in. William tapped on the ceiling, and the carriage pulled forward.
“That was—” Amy took in a deep breath.
“Stupid and our own fault,” William added, totally disgusted with himself.
Amy glanced out the window, her expression as annoyed as he felt. “I hate to admit it, but I believe you are correct. We never should have let down our guard that way.”
“Speaking of guards, I should have asked my driver, John, to watch out for someone arriving. Not that it was his fault, but he was probably dozing when the detectives arrived.”
Amy withdrew the paper from her bodice. “At least we have this.”
“Yes.” William gave her a curt nod. “I was so caught up with the police arriving I forgot about the list—thank goodness you did not, seeing that we lost the files.”
“But we managed to get three names.” Amy placed her hand on her forehead. “I have the most incredible headache. I am sure it is from the fright we received. I need a very hot and very large cup of tea.”
“I could use a very large brandy,” William said.
“Once your driver arrives at my house, I suggest we have lunch. I’m afraid I was quite anxious about this visit and had a scant breakfast.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, collecting their thoughts. “I found it quite interesting that Harding was not only cheating his clients but also blackmailing at least one person.”
“Poor Miss Gertrude. Did you see for what reason he was blackmailing her?”
William shook his head. “No. Only the information from when she was a client, with a notation that he had ‘uncovered’ an interesting fact and would make use of it.
“It might be assumed that the files in the house were blackmail victims as well as those he was cheating. The files of people he was doing normal business with were probably the ones in his office.”
“Yet your file was there, and he wasn’t blackmailing you.” She paused. “Was he?”
“Of course not! There is nothing in my life that would encourage someone to blackmail me. As I said, most likely he kept the files of anyone he was doing shady dealings with—cheating or blackmail—out of his office.”
She sighed. “It must be something devastating for poor Miss Gertrude if it became known. Perhaps she is our murderer.”
William’s brows rose. “Somehow I cannot see Miss Gertrude shoving Harding into a river.”
Amy tapped her chin. “She could have hired someone to do it.”
“That is a possibility,” William said.
“She seemed terribly gay Thursday evening. We even commented upon it. It could very well have been relief at having her blackmailer dead.”
“But that didn’t mean she killed him or hired someone to do the deed.” No matter how he tried, William could not imagine that sweet woman killing someone.
“Maybe so, but she remains on our list. We also have these other names.” Amy waved the paper around.
“However, because we didn’t have time to go through those files, we don’t know if they were also being blackmailed or, like Lemmon and me, being bilked,” William said.
“Either case could encourage someone toward murder. Either to remove a threat or as revenge for thievery. Two common reasons for murder.” Amy smiled at him. “My research.”
“It would have to be more than revenge, I believe. It would certainly not cross my mind to do away with the man because he was stealing from me, and based on what Lemmon said about his solicitor trying to get his papers back, I don’t think murder was on his mind either.”
Silence reigned for a while. Then William continued. “Blackmail would be a good motive, I think, but since we weren’t able to go through the files and sort out those being blackmailed from those being fleeced, we will have to assume everyone on this list is a victim of Harding’s perfidy, and thus a potential killer.”
“Even Miss Gertrude?” Amy asked.
William nodded. “For now. Yes.”
“And there could be one other name that we don’t have because based on the opened back door, someone before us could have entered Harding’s house and took their file.”
“Yes. But we have to start somewhere. I’m afraid, like last time, that our favorite detectives are focusing on just one person. And this time that one person is me. Why they think I am capable of murder is a bit
mystifying. And annoying.”
“Well, they thought me guilty of St. Vincent’s murder. They have no respect for our class.”
William laughed. “I get the impression they have no use for our class. I’m sure they have run into problems with members of the ton before. I know of several people who have used their titles and connections to avoid the law.”
They arrived at Amy’s house just in time for lunch, which was good, since they were both quite hungry. William hoped some sustenance would help ease Amy’s headache.
“Something smells good.” Amy sniffed the air, then handed her outerwear to the young lady at the door. “Thank you, Lacey.”
“I believe Cook has prepared some sort of fish for lunch. I will tell her Lord Wethington will be joining you.” Lacey hurried away, and Amy and William entered the drawing room.
“Lady Margaret, so nice to see you,” William said as he followed Amy into the room.
Lady Margaret bowed her head slightly in William’s direction. “And you as well, my lord.” She eyed them, her lips pursed. “What sort of trouble are you two getting yourselves into now?”
Amy sat on the sofa across from her aunt, William alongside her. “What makes you think we are getting into trouble?”
Her aunt waved her hand in the air. “I don’t know. There is something about the two of you together that makes me think there is some sort of discord bothering you.”
Amy glanced over at him, and he gave her a brief nod. Her aunt would find out eventually anyway, and perhaps she might have an idea or two that they hadn’t yet thought of.
“Remember I told you about William’s man of business who was found floating in the River Avon last week?”
Lady Margaret shook her head. “Yes. You did. Such a terrible thing. I remember reading about it in the newspaper, but the man was not identified.”
“Well, William and I went to the morgue, as you know. The man’s name is James Harding, and I—”
The woman’s eyes grew wide, and her hand flew to her mouth. “James?”
William and Amy looked at each other and then back at Lady Margaret. “You knew Mr. Harding?” Amy asked.
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