Page 88 of A Whisper in the Shadows
“I share the concern that those people will be forgotten,” Maxwell replied with a dark look. “Though I’ve only been here just over a week, I find I feel rather passionately about the society and what it should do. I might have actually wanted to be an administrator.”
Tilda smiled at him, but Maxwell was looking ahead as they walked. “You have a kind heart, Inspector.”
“I do not plan to turn my back on those who were wounded by Phelps’s and Eaton’s malfeasance,” Hadrian said firmly. “I’ve already sent money—anonymously—to Mrs. Cardy, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure everyone who was admitted to the society improperly is financially restored.”
Maxwell paused and turned his head toward Hadrian. “That is most generous of you.”
Hadrian shrugged. “I try to help where I can. I would say that the society should take care of reimbursing those people, but wecan’t be sure all the money stolen from them can be recovered. And even if it is, I’m not sure the Amicable Society will remain. How can it continue if one or more of its leadership are arrested for murder?”
“That is a very good point,” Maxwell said as he continued walking. “One we cannot discount either, for the remaining administrators—and the doctor—are prime suspects in both murders.”
Tilda knew one thing for certain: Phelps and Nevill were at the top of the list of suspects for Eaton’s murder.
And Hadrian knew why.
Hadrian began to accept that he wouldn’t be able to inform Tilda of what he knew until later this evening, probably after Maxwell retired. At least she was aware that he had information to share—that much he’d been able to communicate.
There was no way he was going to participate in a matchmaking endeavor with Mrs. Burley’s niece, unless it would somehow help their inquiries. He doubted it would be necessary because he agreed with Tilda that their investigations would likely be concluded soon. That filled him with anticipation, but also with a sense of disappointment, as it would mean he would no longer see Tilda every day. At least until their next investigation.
Assuming there was one.
Hadrian could not assume, however. Particularly when Tilda believed that assumptions were to be avoided. He’d do his best to manage his expectations accordingly. Which was to say, he oughtn’t have any.
They turned into Little Moorfields, where the Lion’s Heart Pub was located. It was outside the Coleman Street Ward, which meant they were less likely to encounter someone who knew them as the Harwoods and Nigel Beck.
If, by chance, they did see someone, they would say that the reporter had approached them after recognizing them from the inquests and was interviewing them about the Amicable Society. Furthermore, Hadrian and Maxwell would say they’d welcomed the opportunity to discuss the society’s attributes in an effort to rehabilitate its reputation.
Clement was already there when they arrived. He sat at a table in the corner and waved at them as they entered. Once they were seated, they ordered food and drink. Hadrian was looking forward to the ale in the hope that it would ease his lingering headache.
“It’s been a busy day with Eaton’s inquest,” Clement said. He already had a pint of ale and took a sip.
“Quite,” Tilda agreed. “We’ve been conducting many inquiries. Last night, we were at Phelps’s house under the supervision of Inspector Chisholm, and we found a ledger with a record of the men Eaton recruited to the society.”
“Did that reveal anything new?” Clement asked.
“It confirmed that he charged a higher entrance fee and weekly dues for some people, including Mr. Cardy. Presumably, he was assessing higher amounts to those who were sick.”
“He could explain that away as those members being higher risk, hence they would pay more.” Clement nodded. “Clever.”
“I hadn’t considered that, but you’re correct,” Tilda said. “The ledger was actually the least exciting thing that happened. We encountered Phelps’s wife searching the house for money, which she found under the floorboards in his bedchamber.”
Clement’s jaw dropped. “His wife? She isn’t dead?”
“Definitely not,” Hadrian replied. “Nor is her name Phelps.”
Clement leaned forward over the table, his eyes gleaming. “Tell me everything.”
Tilda and Hadrian detailed all they’d learned about Ida Walters, including the fact that she’d lied about a great many things, such as when she’d arrived in London.
“She’s a prime suspect in her husband’s murder then,” Clement said.
“I should think so,” Maxwell replied. “But it’s not my investigation.”
Clement studied him a moment. “And yet you seem to be investigating Phelps’s murder.”
“As it pertains to my investigation regarding the fraud against the society,” Maxwell said a bit stiffly, as if he didn’t like Clement questioning him. “Since we now know Phelps started other friendly societies and stole money from them, we can deduce he was behind the swindle at the Coleman Street Ward Amicable Society.”
“I wonder if he and Eaton worked together or had their own separate schemes going,” Clement mused.