Page 90 of A Whisper in the Shadows
Their food and ale were delivered, and they all tucked in for a few minutes.
“You’ll be traveling for a few days then?” Tilda asked Clement.
“Likely tomorrow and the next day,” he replied. “If I learn anything important, I’ll send a telegram. I think I’ll delay trying to interview Mrs. Walters until after I return. Then I will be armed with the truth of what happened in those places when I question her.”
Maxwell regarded him with surprise. “You speak like an investigator, Mr. Clement. That would all be most helpful, thank you.”
Clement inclined his head. “Of course. I suppose I am an investigator of sorts. I ferret out the truth so that I may reveal it to the public.” He gave Maxwell a sly smile. “I want to see you catch the murderer as much as you want to catch him—or her.”
“Well, I appreciate the help,” Maxwell said.
They finished dinner and parted ways with a plan to meet again on Monday. As they made their way back into the Coleman Street Ward, Maxwell glanced over at Tilda and Hadrian. “We shared far more information with him than he did with us.”
“We did,” Tilda agreed. “But the inquiries he’ll conduct outside London could be of great use to us, particularly indetermining Mrs. Walters’s involvement. I imagine the police will want to prosecute her for her crimes relative to the friendly societies, whether she killed her husband or not.”
“Most definitely,” Hadrian replied.
“I regret telling the mercantile house I’d work through the end of the week,” Maxwell said with a slight frown. “I would much rather call on the night soil man with you tomorrow.”
Tilda sent him an encouraging smile. “We’ll report every detail. Very soon, you’ll be able to focus completely on the investigation.”
Which meant he’d be spending more time with Hadrian and Tilda. Whilst Hadrian didn’t dislike the man, he found him frustrating at times. He seemed to find ways to emphasize the differences between himself and Hadrian. And Hadrian wasn’t entirely sure how to take that.
There was likely nothing to it. Hadrian was merely being defensive because he was jealous of the man. He needed to move past that. He had no claim on Tilda, and the sooner he accepted that and rid his mind of romantic thoughts of her, the better.
CHAPTER 20
Upon returning to White Alley, Tilda, Hadrian, and Maxwell once again settled in the parlor to drink port. Tilda grew more anxious by the minute as she yearned to hear what Hadrian had seen.
Finally, Maxwell stood. “I should turn in. I have to be up early to work at the mercantile house. One last time.” He offered a weak smile. “Good night.”
He left the parlor, and Tilda waited until she heard his footfalls on the stairs before turning to Hadrian. Her pulse was already thumping. “Tell me everything you saw at the inquest.” She spoke in a low tone.
Hadrian glanced toward the staircase and stood from his chair, moving to the settle where Maxwell had been sitting. He motioned for Tilda to join him. This way, they could sit close together and talk quietly.
Tilda sat beside him and clasped her hands in her lap whilst she waited for him to speak.
“Waiting to tell you what I saw has been interminable,” Hadrian said with excitement.
“It seems to have something to do with Nevill.” She sucked in a breath as she voiced her suspicion. “Did you see him and Phelps kill Eaton?”
His eyes darkened. “Not quite. When I shook Nevill’s hand earlier, I saw him standing over Eaton’s body in Phelps’s parlor. Phelps was there too. I can’t be certain there wasn’t anyone else present. The vision was very quick since we were only shaking hands, but I can say that I saw Eaton dead. He was on the floor, and his chest was covered in blood.”
“Now we knowwhereEaton was killed,” Tilda said. “Do you have any idea when?”
“It was dark, and since Mrs. Burley saw Phelps and Nevill enter Phelps’s house Saturday evening and the coroner determined Eaton’s death to be late Saturday or early Sunday, I think we can deduce that the memory I saw occurred Saturday night.”
Tilda nodded. “What else do you recall about the vision?”
“Eaton’s chest was bloody, but there was no weapon in sight,” Hadrian replied. “He could have been killed by the naval dirk—I’ll share more on that in a moment. Or he could have been killed by one of Dr. Giles’s surgical instruments. Just because I didn’t see the physician in the vision doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”
“What do you know about the dirk?” Tilda asked, hanging on his every word.
“When I shook Furnier’s hand, I saw a memory in which he stood in Phelps’s parlor. His gaze fixed momentarily on a naval dirk, such as Jarret described, displayed on the mantel.”
Tilda frowned. “I don’t recall seeing that either time we were in the parlor.”
“I don’t either, which makes me think it’s the murder weapon and was disposed of.”