Page 91 of A Whisper in the Shadows
“That makes the most sense,” Tilda said. “You learned so much today,” she said earnestly, but then felt a wave of concern. “Your head must have ached terribly.”
“I confess it did.” Hadrian’s brow creased in a brief grimace, and Tilda hated that he’d been in pain. “I had a third vision when I shook Dr. Giles’s hand. That is when I saw him using medical instruments, including a blade that could have been used to kill Eaton. I also saw a memory in which he stood in the meeting room at the Swan and Hoop with Furnier and Nevill.”
“But not Phelps?” Tilda asked.
Hadrian shook his head. “Furnier and Nevill were frowning, and Giles was waving his hands with agitation. I had the sense that Nevill was trying to placate him, but of course, I don’t know what they said. It flashed through my mind so quickly. I couldn’t make any more sense of it than that.”
Tilda was quiet a moment as she thought through everything he’d just revealed. “So we know Eaton was killed at Phelps’s house on Saturday night, and the naval dirk was probably the murder weapon. Both Nevill and Phelps were there. But none of that is evidence we can share with Maxwell or Chisholm.”
“That’s all right, in my opinion, since the best person is already on the case,” Hadrian said with confidence. “You.”
Tilda felt as though she was actually blushing, which was incredibly odd. “I have excellent help. Your visions have led us here. We just need to find evidence we can present.”
Hadrian chuckled. “We’ve been in this position before.”
Indeed they had. “I wanted to tell you that I managed to ask Mrs. Burley about Mrs. Cardy visiting Phelps. She confessed to me that she accompanied Mrs. Cardy to see him on Sunday, just as her husband told us. She also said I mustn’t reveal that, since she didn’t tell the police, nor did she disclose it during the inquest.”
“Did she say why she kept it to herself?” Hadrian asked.
“She didn’t want to give the police any more reason to suspect Mrs. Cardy. She is adamant Mrs. Cardy’s alibi is true.” Tilda smiled faintly. “She went so far as to say she was a likelier suspect in Phelps’s murder.”
“Whilst that is all good to know, I don’t know that we can definitely remove Mrs. Cardy from the list of female suspects who Burley may have seen going to Phelps’s house on Monday evening.”
Tilda gave him an approving nod. “You’re starting to sound like me. I do hope the night soil man will be able to testify that Phelps and Nevill used his cart Saturday night. But we still need to find evidence that Eaton was there—and was killed there.”
“Let’s see what the night soil man tells us,” Hadrian said. “I’m trying to determine Phelps’s motive for killing Eaton, if he was indeed responsible, or even partly responsible. It’s clear to me why Nevill or the doctor would kill Eaton—they learned of his swindle and became angry.”
“You’re assuming Nevill and the doctor were not in on the fraud,” Tilda noted. “That is why these crimes are intricately tied together. Until we learn exactly who perpetrated the fraud and who was aware of it when, it’s hard to know for certain who has the best motive, or any motive, for killing Eaton and Phelps. I do want to start our day tomorrow at the police station, speaking with Mrs. Walters. I hope she can fill in the holes of the fraud scheme, at least somewhat.”
“Provided Chisholm allows us to speak with her. And that you can persuade her to talk.” He gave Tilda a half-smile. “I have every confidence in the latter and will simply hope for the former.”
“We’re very close, Hadrian,” Tilda said softly. “I know this has not been our typical investigation, but I am very glad you made yourself a part of it. If you had not, I am certain I would have found a way to include you.”
Hadrian grinned. “That is most pleasing to hear. I confess I still worry I will be replaced by Maxwell.”
She wanted to reassure him. “I know you’re jealous of my partnership with him in this, but it’s really a three-way partnership with you, if that isn’t clear.”
Hadrian nodded. They sat for a moment in silence, and Tilda realized they were sitting as close as they had been that day in the coach some weeks ago when they’d kissed. Sitting here in the quiet house, alone together, the excitement of investigative discovery simmering between them, Tilda could imagine kissing him again. With triumph over their shared work and perhaps something more.
Tilda abruptly stood as an irrational fear—of something she couldn’t name—tripped through her. “I suppose we should go up to bed.” That sounded very wrong. “Not together. You’re welcome to stay down here.I’mgoing to go to bed.”
She hoped she didn’t sound flustered, but she was. She hadn’t meant to say anything provocative. And really it hadn’t been. It was just that her thoughts had taken a turn where they shouldn’t have. Not that Hadrian knew that. Nor would she tell him.
A small smile cracked Hadrian’s lips. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’ll walk you upstairs.” He rose.
“You’re sure your head is all right?” Tilda asked.
“It still mildly aches—the port helped. I do have lavender upstairs and will sleep with it beneath my pillow.”
Tilda smiled. “I’m glad you thought to bring that with you.” She made a note to carry some with her, perhaps an oil. She wondered if smoothing it on his temples would help right after he had a vision. Now she was imagining herself massaging it into his skin, and her entire body trembled.
Exhaling, she left the parlor and made her way to the stairs. Hadrian ascended behind her, and on the landing, she turned to face him.
“I think we should call on Chisholm and make our inquiry with the night soil man as our true selves. I don’t want anyone to see Mrs. Harwood and Nigel Beck at the police station. We will enter through the back in any case.”
“I won’t complain about not donning the wig and facial hair,” Hadrian said with a grin.
Tilda looked forward to seeing the Hadrian she knew. “I do think we’re close to solving things.”