Page 13 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

T ilda and Hadrian arrived at Number Five White Alley just as Maxwell was preparing to leave. He set his hat on his head as they entered. Tilda was anxious to tell him about Phelps’s murder. She was also sorry he would have to rush off.

“I was beginning to wonder if something had happened,” Maxwell said.

“In fact, something has.” Tilda glanced toward Hadrian as he set her valise down near the stairs. “Lord Ravenhurst’s coachman dropped us in Fore Street, and as we walked past Second Postern, we noticed a constable. We decided to walk that way instead.”

Maxwell’s gaze turned wary. “Why was there a constable?”

“He was at Mr. Phelps’s house,” Tilda replied. “Phelps was murdered sometime in the night.”

Eyes rounding, Maxwell sucked in a breath. “What were you able to discover?”

Tilda shared the information they’d learned from Mrs. Burley and detailed their encounter with the constable.

“He allowed you to go inside the house?” Maxwell sounded quite surprised.

“He did.” Tilda then revealed what they’d seen, though she did not tell him about Hadrian’s vision, of course.

Maxwell frowned. “Wasn’t there an inspector present?”

Tilda exchanged a look with Hadrian. “There was, in fact. We encountered Inspector Chisholm as we were leaving. How well do you know him?”

“Well enough, though we haven’t ever worked directly together,” Maxwell replied.

“We crossed paths with him during an investigation somewhat recently.” Tilda tried to think of how to gently say that Chisholm was likely corrupt. “An innocent man was arrested for murder, and we believe Inspector Chisholm was bribed to ensure that happened—in order to protect the real killer.”

Maxwell’s brows shot up. “You have evidence of this?”

Tilda shook her head. “We’d hoped there would be an investigation, but it seems there wasn’t.”

“I wrote a letter to the superintendent,” Hadrian said. “The murderer had bribed other officers within the Met, and we know he bribed someone with the City Police. Unfortunately, we could not discover whom before he died.”

“Then how can you be sure Chisholm is corrupt?” Maxwell did not appear convinced.

“We just are,” Hadrian said firmly.

Tilda knew Hadrian was certain, but then he, unlike her, sometimes allowed his emotions to influence his conclusions.

“We don’t have proof, but he has earned our suspicion.

He did not seem very pleased to see us today.

He did not like that the constable had let us enter Phelps’s house, and he would not share any information with us, even when I said it would be for your benefit.

He said he would find you or you could call on him at the station. ”

“Whilst it’s frustrating that he wouldn’t just give you the information so you could share it with me, I do understand his hesitance.

” Maxwell rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin, then shook his head.

“I can’t believe Phelps was murdered. How I wish I didn’t have to go to this mundane job at the mercantile house. ”

“It’s not as if we’re assigned to investigate the murder,” Tilda said with a sympathetic smile. “We aren’t even investigators right now—at least not publicly.” Though she was going to become one when they visited the boarding house later.

Maxwell blew out a breath. “No, we’re not.” Tilda sensed his frustration, and she shared it.

“What do you think will happen with the Amicable Society?” Hadrian asked. “Phelps was the leader.”

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and find out,” Maxwell said. “I wonder if Chisholm has any idea who the killer might be.”

Tilda had been thinking of that. “It seems to me that the person with the obvious motive would be Mrs. Cardy, the wife of the member who died.”

Maxwell glanced behind him toward the back of the house. “Mrs. Cardy’s cousin is downstairs.”

Tilda’s thoughts were so preoccupied that she’d forgotten Mrs. Kilgore would be there.

“We should tell her about the murder,” Maxwell said, his lips pressing together grimly.

“Can you spare the time?” Tilda asked. “If not, I can tell her.”

“I will be a few minutes late to the mercantile house. I should like to tell Mrs. Kilgore about Phelps’s death.”

They hastened to the stairs leading down to the kitchen.

Mrs. Kilgore was at the worktable chopping potatoes. She was in her middle thirties with pale blonde hair and rosy cheeks, heated perhaps from the hearth. Thick blonde brows crested her round brown eyes. She paused in her work.

Inspector Maxwell moved toward the table. “Mrs. Kilgore, allow me to introduce Miss Wren and Lord Ravenhurst.” Maxwell gestured toward Tilda and Hadrian. “Otherwise known as Mrs. Harwood and Mr. Beck.”

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Kilgore set the knife down.

“Thank you for being here,” Tilda said. “I appreciate you taking on the role of chaperone.”

“I’m always eager to help the police.”

Maxwell glanced at Tilda. “Miss Wren has news to share.” His tone was slightly ominous.

Tilda didn’t smile, but she did maintain a pleasant expression. “On our way here this morning, Lord Ravenhurst and I walked by the house of the leader of the Amicable Society—Mr. Phelps. He was murdered last night.”

Mrs. Kilgore blinked rapidly. “What happened?”

“We don’t know yet.” Tilda didn’t see the need to detail what they did know.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear he’s dead,” Mrs. Kilgore said. “I have my reservations about the society and what they did to my cousin’s family—taking their money and then not paying Gil’s benefit—but I wouldn’t wish ill of the man.”

Maxwell nodded at her. “Inspector Chisholm is assigned to the murder investigation. I expect he will speak with your cousin today.”

Mrs. Kilgore’s lips pursed in a stubborn expression. “Hester won’t have anything to say. She didn’t even know Mr. Phelps. She only dealt with the man who recruited her husband.”

“Timothy Eaton,” Maxwell said.

“Aye.” Mrs. Kilgore picked up the knife, her lip curling with disdain.

“Terrible that he took their money, knowing her husband was poorly and likely wouldn’t live long enough to receive his death benefit.

She has five children and must now support them on her wages as a seamstress.

I hope they don’t think she killed him. How on earth would she find the time? ”

“Chisholm will discover the truth,” Maxwell said. “I’ll speak with him later, before I return for dinner. Now, I need to be on my way.” He inclined his head at Tilda before dashing off.

Mrs. Kilgore looked toward Tilda. “I left you the larger bedchamber.”

“You didn’t have to. Thank you.” Tilda smiled at the woman. “After we settle in for a bit, Lord Ravenhurst and I will be going on a few errands. We will be changing our appearances, so don’t be alarmed when we look different.”

“Is this to do with the investigation?” Mrs. Kilgore asked.

“Yes.” Tilda didn’t want to explain, since they were inquiring after Timothy Eaton, and the man had a connection to Mrs. Kilgore’s family—an unpleasant one.

Mrs. Kilgore looked at Hadrian hesitantly. “Will you be here much, my lord?”

“During the day, mostly,” he replied with a charming smile.

“Will you be taking dinner here?” Mrs. Kilgore asked with a touch of uneasiness. Tilda thought she must be nervous, perhaps because Hadrian was an earl.

“Not generally, no. I will be sure to let you know when I plan to be here for dinner.” He spoke with a warm kindness that seemed to put Mrs. Kilgore at ease. “I would hate to cause you any trouble by showing up unplanned.”

Mrs. Kilgore’s apprehension seemed to return as lines gathered between her brows. “Are you sure you want to do that, my lord? I’m not used to cooking for one such as yourself.”

“I am delighted to partake of whatever you make, Mrs. Kilgore. I am sure it will be delicious.” And he gave her another smile that bordered on dazzling. “In fact, perhaps you’d like to prepare tea before we depart on our errands.”

Tilda wondered if Hadrian smiled like that when he was out in Society.

She imagined him when he’d been looking for a wife a few years ago, attending balls and soirées, outfitted in his pristine evening wear.

She’d seen him that way once—the night he’d escorted her to Northumberland House.

However, that was not the Hadrian she knew.

“You are too kind, my lord,” Mrs. Kilgore said. “I will make the tea straightaway. I did stock the pantry with some items when I arrived.”

“We’ll leave you to it,” Tilda said. She turned and left the kitchen, leading Hadrian upstairs.

On the ground floor, they made their way to the stairs that would take them to the first floor.

“I assumed there was tea and perhaps I should not have.” Hadrian picked up Tilda’s valise before climbing the stairs with her. “I was trying to put her at ease. It didn’t occur to me that there may not be supplies.”

“It’s all right. Though, I am glad Mrs. Kilgore brought tea, for I did not.” Yesterday, Tilda had purchased the bare minimum of food supplies at the grocer.

When they reached the first floor, Tilda took the valise from Hadrian.

“I suppose I’ll go up and investigate the garret,” he said.

“And remove your hair pieces,” Tilda said. “Do you have glue to reattach the side whiskers?”

“I do not. I shall have to remain myself until I return to Mayfair.” He frowned. “I should have thought to bring that and a change of clothing, since we’d planned to call at the boarding house as investigators.”

“I should have prepared you,” Tilda said. “You can fetch the necessary implements and clothing this evening when you return home.”

“Indeed, I shall.” He pivoted. “I’ll see you downstairs for tea in a bit?”

“Yes.” Tilda recalled that the larger bedchamber faced the street. The bed was dressed, which was not how it had appeared yesterday. Tilda had been busy with other chores and hadn’t seen to it. Mrs. Kilgore must have done.

There was a small dresser, which Tilda used for her belongings. She set her hairbrush and other personal items on top.