Page 17 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

I nspector Maxwell returned from his workday, eager to hear what Tilda might have learned. Mrs. Kilgore served them a robust stew for dinner.

Before they sat down at the table, Maxwell informed her that he’d gone to the police station to speak with Inspector Chisholm. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been there. Tilda didn’t mask her disappointment. There was no reason to, for Maxwell shared it.

During the meal, Tilda revealed what she and Hadrian had learned from Mrs. Vickers and the barkeep about Timothy Eaton.

She did not, of course, disclose anything to do with Hadrian’s visions, but they hadn’t yielded anything terribly helpful as of yet.

Furthermore, she’d have to come up with a way to share that information without explaining how they’d actually learned it.

Meaning, she and Hadrian had to first confirm it in another way.

As they finished eating, Tilda told Maxwell about Rippon, Eaton’s colleague at the Prudential Assurance Company and frequent companion at the Wolf and Dove.

“I should like to speak with him, but I worry we—that includes you and Ravenhurst—ought not to conduct too many inquiries, lest we stir up suspicion.”

Maxwell’s brows drew together as he set his spoon down and leaned back against his chair. “That is a concern.”

“I’ve a suggestion that I hope you might find agreeable,” Tilda said. “I’ve worked with a journalist in the past, Mr. Ezra Clement at the Daily News . We’ve shared information, and he was very helpful in solving the last case I worked on. We could have him make inquiries at the assurance company.”

“I’m not sure I want to work with a reporter.” Maxwell frowned briefly. His hesitation reminded Tilda of Hadrian’s disdain for Clement in particular, though he was coming around. “You trust him?”

“I do,” Tilda said with confidence. “I think he would be interested in the story of the murder of Mr. Phelps, particularly given the alleged fraud.”

Maxwell sat forward, his eyes sparking with alarm. “It would be best if he didn’t publish anything whilst we are in the midst of our investigation.”

“Of course, and that would be a requirement,” Tilda said firmly, seeking to ease Maxwell’s concern.

“We’ll share the details with him for his story, so that he may publish the exclusive account.

In exchange, he’ll interview Mr. Rippon at the Prudential Assurance Company about Mr. Eaton.

We’d like to know why his employment was terminated and his reaction to that, as well as anything Rippon can tell us about Eaton joining the Amicable Society.

Ideally, Rippon will also be able to tell us where we can find Eaton now. ”

After thinking a long moment, Maxwell brushed his hand over his jaw. “I suppose that seems reasonable. I trust your judgment, so if you think this scheme will work, I am in favor of it. Will you speak with Mr. Clement?”

“Yes, I can call on him in Fleet Street tomorrow morning with Lord Ravenhurst.”

Mrs. Kilgore walked into the dining room and surveyed their empty bowls. “All finished, then?”

“Indeed, and it was delicious. It’s one of my favorite dishes that you bring to the station,” Maxwell said with a smile.

Mrs. Kilgore only nodded as she expertly cleared the table.

Tilda noted she did not smile often. “Thank you, Mrs. Kilgore. We are lucky to have you here,” Tilda said. She was most grateful for Mrs. Kilgore’s cooking, as it was not her forte.

“I am glad to help.” Mrs. Kilgore carried the dishes from the dining room.

Alone with Maxwell once more, Tilda met his gaze. “There is one more thing I’d like to share. Or discuss, I suppose.”

Maxwell settled back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that?”

Tilda hoped the inspector would support Hadrian’s idea as he’d done with asking Clement to assist them.

“Lord Ravenhurst came up with a scheme that will be most helpful. It seems the Amicable Society is without a canvasser, and now they are without their chief administrator. His lordship thinks he ought to seek the vacant canvasser position. He would likely learn a great many things if he were an employee of the society—even more than you can learn as a member.”

Blinking in what appeared to be surprise, Maxwell uncrossed his arms. He shifted his attention away from Tilda as he seemed to ponder the suggestion. “That is a good idea.” He returned his gaze to Tilda. “I suppose that would mean he would be living here all the time then?”

“Yes,” Tilda replied. “He would quit his pretend job at the gentlemen’s club in order to work for the society. If Furnier and Nevill agreed to hire him.”

Maxwell didn’t react immediately. His gaze was once again trained on nothing as his brow creased.

“You seem hesitant,” Tilda observed.

“I’m not.” Maxwell exhaled, and a lopsided smile flashed over his features. “I suppose I wish I’d thought of it.”

“Why would you have? We didn’t realize the canvassing position was potentially vacant.”

“That’s true.” The inspector inclined his head. “Yes, let’s see if they’ll hire Lord Ravenhurst.” He regarded Tilda a moment. “You and he seem to work well together.”

“We’ve conducted several investigations, and I would say we’ve formed an excellent working relationship,” Tilda replied.

“It’s entirely professional then?” Maxwell asked. He quickly added, “I don’t mean to pry.”

“Not at all. Lord Ravenhurst and I are business associates as well as friends, but it’s not as if we attend social engagements together.” Tilda chuckled. “We hardly move in the same circles.”

“No, I can’t imagine you do,” Maxwell said with a smile. “I’m curious why you wanted to be an investigator. Some would say it’s an odd occupation for a woman.”

“I find most men think most occupations are odd for women.” Tilda didn’t mask the edge of disdain in her tone.

“I don’t,” Maxwell assured her. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re an investigator.”

Tilda felt a surge of pride—and pleasure.

So few people endorsed what she did. Even her own grandmother wasn’t entirely supportive.

She would greatly prefer Tilda marry instead.

“Thank you for saying so. I did not believe you found my occupation strange,” Tilda clarified.

“How could I, when you hired me whilst the Metropolitan Police would not?”

Maxwell met her gaze with a pointed look. “That is their loss. Still, I imagine it stings, since your father worked for the Met.”

“It does,” Tilda admitted. “However, I’m glad to have a good relationship with Inspector Teague there. I believe he would hire me if he could.”

“Well, it’s not as if women don’t already work for the police,” Maxwell said.

“Mrs. Kilgore works as a searcher for the City, and I believe she’s helped her husband with a few cases in the past—posing in a role as you are doing, though not necessarily conducting inquiries on her own as you are.

I’m sure Scotland Yard has women searchers and likely utilizes police wives in a similar fashion. ”

“They do,” Tilda said. “I could angle for one of those positions, but I don’t really want to search females who are arrested. I want to be an investigator.”

Maxwell cocked his head. “And why is that?”

Tilda lifted her shoulder. “I suppose I inherited my curiosity and interest in investigation from my father. He was a sergeant but was going to move to the detective branch when he was killed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Maxwell gave her a sympathetic look that made Tilda shift in her chair. She didn’t like pity any more than she cared to speak of losing her father.

“Why did you want to work for the police?” Tilda asked, eagerly changing the subject.

“My father was a dock worker,” Maxwell replied. “I saw how hard he labored. He was exhausted and in pain from the backbreaking work. He died when I was fifteen.”

“That’s the same age I was when my father died,” Tilda said quietly. Hadn’t she wanted to avoid talking about her father? And yet here she was offering information. She sought to redirect the conversation back to the inspector. “You didn’t wish to be a dock worker?”

Maxwell gave his head an infinitesimal shake. “I wanted to help people. I was actually interested in becoming a doctor—my mother works for an apothecary and enjoys it. But I wasn’t able to go to school for that.”

Tilda found it sad that Maxwell couldn’t pursue his dreams. “Do you have siblings?”

“An older sister. She’s been married a few years now. There were younger siblings—a brother and a sister—but we lost them rather young.”

Tilda’s chest constricted. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was very sad, especially for my mother.” Maxwell’s voice had softened along with his features.

His hazel eyes took on a deep melancholy.

“I remember how expensive it was to have funerals for them. That’s why this case matters a great deal to me.

People struggle enough to provide a good life for themselves and their families without others trying to take advantage of them. ”

“I agree.” Tilda was glad to learn more about the inspector. They had similar beliefs and losing their fathers at the same age made her feel a surprising connection to him. “Though you are not a doctor, I hope you’re glad to be working to help people, because you are.”

He smiled faintly. “I hope so.”

A knock on the door prompted them to turn their heads toward the entrance hall.

Maxwell braced his hands on the edge of the table. “I wonder who that could be.” He stood and moved toward the door.

Tilda rose and followed Maxwell but remained in the parlor. Maxwell opened the door. Surprisingly, it was Inspector Chisholm.

“Good evening, Inspector Chisholm. I’m glad you came by. Are you aware I stopped at the police station to speak with you?” Maxwell opened the door wide and invited the older man inside.