Page 43 of A Whisper in the Shadows

“I saw Phelps in his parlor. I had the sense Mrs. Cardy was angry. Phelps appeared perturbed and perhaps a bit…cold.”

“You saw Phelps where he was killed? That’s why you asked her when and where she’d seen him. You were trying to determine if she was there the night of the murder.”

“Just so,” Hadrian said. “I was not able to ascertain the time of day—not from a window or a clock.”

“What about his clothing? Was Phelps dressed the same as the night he was killed?”

Hadrian frowned faintly, his brow creasing. “I’m not sure if the garments were the same, but they were at least similar. The image came quickly and was gone before I could see everything I wanted to.”

“It’s all right. It’s still helpful to know she spoke to him,” Tilda said with a reassuring nod. “And you did try to discover the truth. Well done.”

“I had the sense she was unnerved by my questions,” Hadrian noted.

“I did too.” Tilda cocked her head. “Did you or Maxwell receive a membership certificate?”

“We did not,” Hadrian replied. “When Mrs. Cardy mentioned her husband had one, I became curious. We must ask one of the administrators about that. Should we stop and see the Lentons?”

“We may as well,” Tilda said.

They found the Lentons’ house and spoke with Meg Lenton. She did not invite them in, but she did show them the membership certificate her husband had received, though she now assumed it was worthless after what had transpired with the Cardys.

The certificate bore Joseph Lenton’s name and his date of admission. It wasn’t signed by anyone, nor did it contain any remarkable details.

“I rather expected the certificate to have the society’s cock and snake,” Hadrian said as they turned onto Coleman Street following their brief interview of Mrs. Lenton.

“It was utterly nondescript,” Tilda said. “It’s almost as if the certificate was an afterthought. Or not actually an official document issued by the society,” she added cynically.

“I’ll wager it’s the latter,” Hadrian said. “I don’t know if anyone besides Eaton is responsible, but Cardy, Lenton, and likely many others were fraudulently admitted to the society. I’m going to make sure Mrs. Cardy receives what she’s owed. I’ll cover the expense myself, if necessary.”

Tilda touched his arm and smiled up at him. “I’m not surprised you would do that, but thank you. I confess I’m quite moved by the Cardys’ plight.”

“As am I, and that was before I met them. Now, I am doubly so.” His eye twitched, and he touched his temple.

“Does your head ache from touching Mrs. Cardy?”

He nodded gently. “The pain is already starting to fade. It wasn’t a very long vision.”

“I was impressed with how you juggled the basket and were able to touch her hand for more than a fleeting moment.”

“I was doing my best,” he said with the flicker of a smile. “I can’t imagine Mrs. Cardy killed Phelps. Aside from not appearing strong enough, there is also the issue of her alibi. Susan told Inspector Chisholm that she and her mother were sewing together at home.”

“Unfortunately, even children can lie,” Tilda said, though she hoped that was not the case. She didn’t want Mrs. Cardy to be a murderer. Her children needed her.

And yet, Tilda could easily see how the woman might have been moved by fear and suffering to avenge her husband’s death. In the heat of an argument during which Mrs. Cardy sought to regain what her family had lost and so desperately needed, she could very well have simply lost control of her emotions.

“I’m not sure I can blame the Cardys whatsoever,” Hadrian said with a flash of intensity.

She turned her head toward him. “Your anger at their plight is true, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.” He met her gaze. “You doubted that?”

“Not at all,” she said firmly. “It’s admirable. I was also most impressed with your ability to sound like someone with less education.”

“I nearly slipped up a few times.” He chuckled. “I’m even more impressed with your ability to take on various roles during our investigations.”

They arrived at White Alley and were surprised to find Inspector Chisholm waiting in the parlor. He held his hat and regarded them with a furrowed brow. His expression was rather grim.

Tilda did not think his visit was due to good news. “What brings you here before the inquest?”