Page 70 of A Whisper in the Shadows

The woman swallowed, and her features darkened with apprehension. “I arrived yesterday.”

“But you’re not staying here?” Tilda knew she wasn’t and wanted Mrs. Walters to confirm it.

“I’m lodging in a boarding house in Cheapside,” Mrs. Walters said.

“Why wouldn’t you stay here with your husband?” Tilda asked.

Mrs. Walters shrugged. “I was tired and decided to find a boarding house.”

“That hardly makes sense,” Chisholm said with a faint sneer. “It does not appear you’re being honest with us.”

“I didn’t kill him!” she cried.

Chisholm’s eyes glinted with distrust. “I can’t say I’m inclined to believe you.”

Maxwell regarded Mrs. Walters expectantly. “Was the money you took from beneath the floorboards from the Amicable Society?”

“I don’t know where it came from.” Mrs. Walters clenched her jaw.

“Who else was involved with your husband’s friendly societies?” Tilda asked. “Did he have accomplices?” She was thinking of Eaton and wanted to know if Phelps had hired any canvassers with the other societies he’d formed.

“I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t help him with any of that. I was quiet and dutiful, as a wife should be.”

Chisholm scoffed. “Dutiful wives don’t follow their husbands to London and keep to the shadows upon learning their husband is dead. Nor do they steal into his house and behave like a criminal.” He looked to Maxwell. “Let’s go. We can finish questioning her at the police station.”

Tilda was torn between wanting to accompany them and preferring to stay in the house so Hadrian could use his ability without their supervision. Since she and Hadrian weren’t invited, it seemed they would do the latter.

Maxwell took the letters from Tilda and the photograph from Hadrian. “I’ll see you later at home.”

His use of the word “home” jarred Tilda momentarily. She did not think of Number Five White Alley as home and was surprised he did.

The inspectors left with Mrs. Walters, and Tilda closed the door behind them. She turned to face Hadrian. “At least now we can search the house, and you can touch things without worry of supervision.”

“Agreed,” Hadrian said. “But I can see you’re disappointed you won’t be at the station when they continue to interrogate Mrs. Walters.”

She smiled. “You know me too well.”

He smiled in return, and Tilda’s belly did a little flip.

“I wonder what happened to the constable?” Hadrian mused.

“I do too.” Tilda glanced toward the closed door. “It’s odd that he wasn’t at his post whilst Mrs. Walters was here.”

“Do you think she had something to do with his absence?”

Tilda narrowed her eyes. “I think anything is possible, especially given what we know about her now.”

“Have we solved the fraud scheme?” Hadrian asked.

“Perhaps,” Tilda replied. “I’d like to determine the specifics, such as whether Eaton was doing what Phelps instructed or acting on his own.”

“It seems likely that Phelps was directing him, since he apparently has a history of committing fraud.” Hadrian shook his head. “What do you suppose was his plan with the friendly society? It had to be more than just recruiting men who were ill and overcharging them.”

“I think he never intended to pay any of them—ill or not. I wager when we investigate those other friendly societies he started, we’ll find that he left with the money before the first year had elapsed.”

Hadrian sneered. “Absolutely despicable.”

“Yes. Let us find that diary and see if we can learn more about their scheme.” She moved into the parlor and went to the desk. Tilda faced him. “Let us discuss how best to use your ability without overtaxing you.”