Page 7 of A Whisper at Midnight

Hadrian inclined his head toward the doorway that Teague was standing near. “In there?”

“That’s his bedchamber,” Beryl responded. Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe he’s dead.” She took her hand from Hadrian’s arm and clapped it over her mouth as a sob wracked her frame.

“Do you mind if I look?” Hadrian asked, though in truth, he was more interested in touching something to see if he could glean anything about what had happened. His ability had allowed him to see the memories of the man who’d tried to kill him. Perhaps he’d see those that belonged to Chambers’ murderer, and perhaps identify the killer. Not that Hadrian could share his findings with Teague, for then he’d have to reveal his “gift,” and the inspector would likely insist he seek medical help.

Teague’s auburn brows rose. “We are collecting evidence.”

“I could help,” Hadrian offered. “You know I’m of some use in that area.”

The detective inspector grunted in response. “You can stand at the doorway.”

“Good enough,” Hadrian said benignly. He could likely inch his way inside. Before he went to look at the bedchamber, he met Beryl’s gaze. “Is someone bringing you tea? Perhaps you should sit.”

“I don’t think I can. I’m too distressed.” She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.

“It’s going to be all right,” Hadrian murmured. He felt a pull to stay and comfort Beryl, but he was also eager to see what he might learn from the bedchamber.

Hadrian glanced toward the young constable who stood nearby. He held a notebook and had likely been asking Beryl questions. Surreptitiously removing his gloves and stuffing them in his coat pocket, Hadrian walked to the bedchamber and stood in the doorway.

A large, four-poster bed dominated the room. The window hangings had been pulled open to let in the morning light. There were also a few lanterns about the room providing plenty of illumination.

The bedclothes were drawn back to reveal the body of Louis Chambers. He wore a night shirt, the front of which was stained a dark brown-red.

Another constable was writing in a notebook, or perhaps drawing. Teague was poking about the room, looking in corners and under furniture.

“How was he killed?” Hadrian asked.

“Stabbed through the heart,” Teague replied. “I’m looking for the knife—without luck so far.”

Hadrian touched the doorframe with his bare hand, his breath halting as he hoped for a sensation or a vision.

Nothing.

“Would you like help looking?” Hadrian offered.

“This is a police matter,” Teague said as he dropped to his knees and bent to search under the bed. “I need a bloody lantern.”

Hadrian moved quickly, swiping one from a dresser and bringing it to where Teague was crouched. Just before he set the lantern on the floor beside the detective inspector, a visionflashed in Hadrian’s mind: he saw a hearth. There was an accompanying sensation of feeling tired, as if he hadn’t slept long enough. Hadrian presumed he was seeing and feeling the memories of a retainer who’d touched the lantern at some point.

Teague frowned up at him. “You weren’t supposed to come in.”

“Apologies, I was only helping.” Hadrian clasped the post of the bed as he pivoted to return to the doorway.

Chambers’ face flashed in Hadrian’s mind. The man was laughing. Then his eyes narrowed seductively. Hadrian felt a rush of desire, but the sensation didn’t belong to him. It came from whoever’s memory he was seeing. Chambers reached out, and Hadrian felt as though he were being pulled. He saw an outstretched hand that was decidedly feminine clutching Chambers’ fingers. Chambers fell back on the bed, and Hadrian landed atop him.

Hadrian blinked, and the vision disappeared, thank goodness. Hadrian wasn’t sure he’d wanted to see—or feel—what would happen next. But he could guess. Whoever’s memory Hadrian had seen was a woman Chambers had taken to bed.

Hadrian had to assume it was Beryl. He didn’t particularly care to see his former fiancée’s memories, and he definitely didn’t want to feel her emotions.

“How do you know Mrs. Chambers?” Teague asked as he looked under the bed.

Hadrian, rattled and head aching from the vision, was grateful for the interruption to his thoughts and moved back to the doorway. “She was my fiancée.”

Teague banged his head on the underside of the bed, then he swore rather colorfully. He came out from beneath the bed and massaged his scalp as he stood. “You might have mentioned thatassociation when you arrived. Have you learned nothing about investigations and sharing information to solve crimes?”

“I wasn’t hiding anything,” Hadrian said. “This is a shock.”

“Is it shocking to you?” Teague asked, his brown eyes narrowing. “Since you’re still friendly with your former fiancée?”