Page 22 of A Whisper in the Shadows

Mrs. Burley clucked her tongue. “The society will be thrown into turmoil.”

“How awful,” Tilda said. “About Mr. Phelps. I’m sure the society will survive.”

“I hope so.” Mrs. Burley pursed her lips. “There have been rumors of disagreements between Phelps, Nevill, and Furnier, and I saw Phelps and Nevill argue last week after the meeting.”

“Indeed?” Tilda rounded her eyes in mock surprise. “I didn’t hear anything about that last night.”

Mrs. Burley gave her head a shake. “Oh no, we wouldn’t speak of that there, not in front of Gladys Furnier.”

“What were you doing in the house?” Hadrian asked, taking the question right out of Tilda’s mouth, which was fine by her.

“His cleaning woman—Mrs. Rudge—comes twice a week and found him this morning. She came right over to tell me. I live across the street.” She gestured to the small, narrow terrace opposite Phelps’s house. “She didn’t know what else to do.”

Tilda’s brow creased, and Hadrian imagined she was trying to determine a way to ask why the woman would go to her. Hadrian certainly wanted to ask that.

“You know her well then?” Tilda asked.

“I know everyone on the street, even those who don’t live here,” Mrs. Burley replied. “I do aim to be helpful. I went and found a constable, who sent for the inspector at the station in Old Jewry.”

“There’s an inspector?” Tilda asked.

Mrs. Burley nodded. “He’s interviewing one of the neighbors. I was in the house consoling poor Mrs. Rudge and confirming that the dead body was indeed Mr. Phelps.” She shuddered, but Hadrian had the sense it was for show and not a genuine reaction. “It was quite horrible. His head was bashed in. There was blood and other…matter. Utterly gruesome.”

“Do you know when he was killed?” Tilda asked. “It’s so shocking that we just saw him last evening.”

“Sometime overnight.” Mrs. Burley edged closer to them and slid a hooded glance toward Phelps’s house. “He walked home last night with Nevill. They do that fairly often.”

“Nevill may have been the last one to see him alive then,” Hadrian said.

Mrs. Burley nodded. “He left just before eleven, but who knows if Phelps was alive then or not?” She arched her brows and widened her eyes briefly.

Hadrian could see that Mrs. Burley was well-versed on what happened along this street. He wondered what her neighbors thought of her.

Tilda gasped softly, but Hadrian believed she was playing a role. She was quite good at that when they were making inquiries. “Do you think Nevill had a reason to kill Phelps? You said they—and Furnier—were rumored to have had a disagreement.”

“There’s that business with Mr. Cardy dying and his widow trying to collect his death benefit, though it’s only been six months since he joined.” Mrs. Burley waved her hand. “I told you all that last night, didn’t I?”

“Do you think the administrators argued about what happened with Cardy being admitted against the society’s policy?” Tilda asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but that’s my guess. I had the impression from Mrs. Furnier that her husband was quite angry when he learned that Cardy had been ill.”

“Wouldn’t everyone have noticed his illness?” Hadrian asked.

“Mr. Cardy didn’t attend meetings.” Mrs. Burley cocked her head. “In fact, I’m not sure how his weekly dues were collected.”

“It’s my understanding that a member can send their dues with someone else,” Hadrian said, citing what he’d learned last night. “Perhaps someone was doing that for Mr. Cardy.”

“That makes sense,” Mrs. Burley said. “I wonder who…” she added in a murmur, and Hadrian surmised that she wanted to gather this information. It seemed as though they’d met someone whose curiosity would rival Tilda’s. Though their curiosity did not appear to be borne of the same purpose. Tilda liked to learn things and uncover the truth. Perhaps Mrs. Burley enjoyed collecting information and details that would make her feel important.

Mrs. Burley sniffed. “I must be on my way. I need to inform the other neighbors what’s happened. They’ll want to hear of this tragedy.” She frowned sadly.

“How lucky they are to have you to inform them,” Tilda said, with a gentle smile and just the barest hint of sarcasm, which Hadrian caught.

“Indeed.” Mrs. Burley nodded sagely, appearing oblivious to the irony. She walked across the street and went to the house next to hers, where she knocked on the door.

Tilda blinked as she watched Mrs. Burley. “She was serious about telling everyone.”

“I didn’t doubt it,” Hadrian said.