Page 73 of A Whisper in the Shadows

Tilda exchanged a look with Hadrian before responding. “I’m sorry to hear that. We were hoping she might know something. We just saw a woman being escorted from Mr. Phelps’s house by Inspector Chisholm.”

Burley’s brows shot up, and he sucked in a quick breath. “Did you recognize the woman?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” Tilda replied.

“You’re certain?” Mr. Burley asked, appearing to hold his breath.

Tilda nodded. “Absolutely.” She cast her eyes down a moment. “That’s why I was hoping Mrs. Burley was home, so that she could maybe tell us who it was.”

“I wish I’d seen her.” Burley’s mouth was drawn down, and his brow was creased with worry.

“Why is that?” Hadrian asked.

Burley stuck his head over the threshold and looked up and down the street. He lowered his voice, though there was no one around. “I didn’t tell the police, but I saw a woman going into Phelps’s house late Monday—after midnight.”

“Did you?” Tilda asked breathlessly. She was playing the part of a busybody rather well.

“Why didn’t you tell the police?” Hadrian asked.

Burley pressed his lips together. “I was worried it might be Mrs. Burley.” He grimaced, his features creasing deeply. “She’s very curious and sometimes sticks her nose in where she shouldn’t. The woman was wearing a cloak, so I couldn’t see who she was. My wife wasn’t in bed, and I feared she’d gone over to speak with Phelps.”

“Why would you think she would do that?” Tilda asked. “Especially after midnight?”

“Sometimes, Florence—Mrs. Burley—has a bee in her bonnet about something. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d gone over to Phelps’s house that late. She’d already called on him the day before with Mrs. Cardy—and was upset when he’d told her to mind her own business.”

Hadrian wondered if that was the memory he’d seen of Mrs. Cardy in Phelps’s house. “Mrs. Burley and Mrs. Cardy called on Phelps together?”

Burley nodded. “Florence was adamant the society should help Mrs. Cardy and did her part by accompanying the poor woman to insist Phelps do something. Phelps’s lack of concernmade her angry. She complained about him to me several times.”

“You thought she went back Monday night to try to convince Phelps to do something?” Tilda asked.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Burley said with a faint shrug. “Some people find my wife annoying, including me sometimes. But she has a good heart and would never hurt anybody. You won’t tell the police, will you?”

“Of course not,” Tilda assured him. Though Hadrian knew that was a lie. “You don’t think she’s the woman the inspector escorted away this evening?”

“I don’t,” Burley said quickly. His neck flushed. “Perhaps I did for a moment, but then I realized it couldn’t be. She would not leave her mother, for she requires constant care. Florence’s sister lives with their mother, and Florence provides respite for her every fortnight.”

“She’s a good sister and daughter,” Tilda said warmly.

“I’ll tell Florence that you saw Inspector Chisholm taking a woman from Phelps’s house, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Burley said.

“Not at all,” Tilda replied. “In fact, if Mrs. Burley thinks she might know who the woman is, I’d love to hear. She can call on me at Number Five White Alley if she likes.”

Burley nodded. “I’ll tell her when she returns tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Burley. We’re sorry to have disturbed you,” Hadrian said.

“Not at all. Have a good evening.” Burley closed the door.

Tilda and Hadrian turned and made their way toward London Wall.

Hadrian glanced at Tilda. “Well, that was not what I was expecting to hear.”

“Nor I,” Tilda said. “I think we must consider Mrs. Burley a suspect, regardless of what her husband said. She could verywell have been the woman he saw Monday night.” She looked over at Hadrian as they turned onto Coleman Street. “You observed her touching the candle in your vision. What if she hit—and killed—Phelps with the candlestick?”

They walked in silence a few minutes. Hadrian thought about who else the woman could be. “The woman Burley saw could have been Mrs. Walters. I don’t think either of us believe she only arrived yesterday.”

“No, we don’t,” Tilda replied. “The woman could also be Mrs. Cardy. You saw her memory in which she was in Phelps’s parlor, though that could be from her calling on him with Mrs. Burley on Sunday. Do you recall if she was wearing a cloak?”