Page 18 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

Chisholm looked to be in his middle-thirties. His dark gaze swept the entrance hall and moved into the parlor, where it collided with Tilda’s. “Yes, I’d heard. Sergeant Kilgore asked me to come and share information with you.”

For the sake of discretion, Tilda thought it may have been better for the inspector to call at the back door. Though, if anyone noted Chisholm’s identity and wondered why he was there, she and Maxwell could just say he was interviewing them about the meeting last night.

Tilda moved to stand near one of the chairs in the parlor. “Good evening, Inspector Chisholm.”

“Miss Wren.” Chisholm removed his hat to reveal his mostly bald head. A band of dark hair stretched from ear to ear.

Tilda gestured to the seating area in the parlor. “Would you care to sit?”

Chisholm entered the parlor and sat on the wooden settle. He set his hat beside him.

Maxwell took the other chair as Tilda sat in hers. “I’m eager to hear what you learned today regarding Phelps’s murder.”

“I’ll share what may be helpful to you. It would probably be best if you attend the inquest tomorrow afternoon at the Swan and Hoop.” He fixed a dubious stare on Maxwell. “Will your fake job allow you to attend? I imagine that’s a bloody nuisance.”

“It is, and I’ll be there,” Maxwell replied.

“There was much conversation at the mercantile house today regarding Phelps’s death.

One of the other Amicable Society members who works there indicated he wanted to attend the inquest whenever it would be, so I imagine all the members—and there are about five or six of us—will attend. ”

“Then it won’t be odd for you to attend.” Tilda thought that was good.

Maxwell briefly met her gaze. “Exactly.”

“Good,” Chisholm said. “That way you can hear everything firsthand, and I won’t need to repeat it.”

Tilda found Chisholm’s demeanor dismissive. She wondered if he was always like that or if he was behaving that way because of her involvement. And if it was the latter, did Chisholm object to her because of their past association, however fleeting it was, or because of her sex?

Maxwell smiled benignly. “You will need to repeat what you learned today. I’d ask that you share everything, so that I may determine if it’s useful to our investigation or not.”

Pressing her lips together to quash a smile, Tilda greatly approved of Maxwell’s response.

“We questioned most of the neighbors around Phelps’s house,” Chisholm said. “One or two were not at home, so I’ve assigned a constable to hopefully catch them this evening.

“We learned from one neighbor that Mr. Nevill, one of the society administrators, walked home with Phelps to his house last night, following the meeting.” Chisholm didn’t know that Tilda had heard that from Mrs. Burley or that she’d already shared that information with Maxwell.

“I questioned Nevill today at his tailoring shop in Moorgate. He said he left before eleven and Phelps was fine at that time.”

“How did Nevill seem when you spoke with him?” Tilda asked.

Chisholm turned his attention to her, and his brows arched briefly before he replied. “He was upset to learn of his friend’s death. He did seem surprised, but he could simply be a good actor.”

Tilda noted Chisholm’s description of Nevill as a friend. “Were Nevill and Phelps actually friends and not just colleagues?”

“Nevill referred to Phelps as such,” Chisholm said. “He said they met about seven months ago, not long after Maxwell moved into the neighborhood. They were acquainted through a friend of Nevill’s, a man called Isaiah Jarret.”

Maxwell looked to Tilda. “I haven’t heard that name before. Have you?”

Tilda shook her head.

Chisholm went on. “Apparently, he was the person with whom Phelps was originally going to start the society, but they had a disagreement of some kind, and Phelps ended up working with Nevill and then Furnier.”

“I wonder what that disagreement was about,” Tilda mused. “I don’t suppose you were able to speak with Mr. Jarret today?”

“No, but I have his direction and will do so tomorrow morning,” Chisholm said. “He lives off Old Jewry and works as a senior clerk for the Imperial Bank on Lothbury.”

Tilda was surprised but pleased that Chisholm was sharing so much. She’d been prepared to have to pry information from him.

“So, Phelps originally planned to work with Jarret, the two had a disagreement, and Phelps moved on to Nevill. They joined with Furnier after that?” Maxwell summarized.

Chisholm nodded. “I confirmed this with Furnier, as I interviewed him and his wife after I spoke with Nevill.”

“How did they take the news of Phelps’s death?” Tilda was curious if they’d been upset, or if they were even capable of expressing such emotion.

“They were more reserved in their reaction than Nevill, though they did seem troubled.” Chisholm made a sound in his throat that was almost a scoff. “Furnier seems a cold bloke.”

“That was our impression as well,” Maxwell said. “What did they know of Jarret?”

“Nothing. Furnier only vaguely knows the man. Neither the Furniers nor Nevill had any idea who might have wanted to kill Phelps—outside of the Cardy family.”

Tilda noted Chisholm’s use of the word family , and not just Mrs. Cardy, the widow.

The family would include Mrs. Cardy’s cousin, Mrs. Kilgore, as well as Mrs. Kilgore’s husband, Sergeant Kilgore.

Were the Kilgores suspects? Tilda would find that surprising, given the effort the sergeant was devoting to this investigation.

“Did the Furniers or Mr. Nevill have any information that would support Mrs. Cardy or another member of her family committing the murder?”

“No, they didn’t provide any evidence,” Chisholm replied gruffly. “Mrs. Cardy was just the only person they could think of when I posed the question.” Since he now said person , perhaps he’d only meant the Widow Cardy.

Chisholm straightened in his chair, appearing to stretch his spine.

“Mrs. Cardy was my final interview today. I can’t imagine she has the strength to kill Phelps.

He was bludgeoned in the head with something quite heavy, given the damage it made, but she is petite and slight.

I would describe her as overworked and undernourished.

She has five children, one of whom is not even a year of age. ” He gave his head a sad shake.

The inspector’s wordless reaction to what he said improved Tilda’s impression of him.

She thought of the poor woman with five mouths to feed and no husband to provide for them.

Nor would she receive a death benefit after paying into the Amicable Society.

Tilda shared Maxwell’s thoughts about people who took advantage of others who were already at such an extreme disadvantage.

Chisholm continued. “Mrs. Cardy also had an alibi provided by her oldest child, a nine-year-old daughter. Mrs. Cardy takes in sewing, and the daughter helps her now. They were working late to complete their work for the day, so they were together at home. I can’t completely discount her as a suspect, but I prefer Nevill at the moment. ”

In the interest of establishing a mutually beneficial working relationship with Inspector Chisholm, Tilda wanted to share what she and Hadrian had learned. “I was able to gather some information today about Timothy Eaton, the canvasser who solicited Mr. Cardy’s membership.”

“What’s that?” Chisholm turned his attention toward Tilda.

She repeated everything she’d already told Maxwell, leaving out Hadrian’s visions, of course.

When she mentioned Rippon from the Prudential Assurance Company, she did not share their plans to have Clement interview him.

Nor did she reveal Hadrian’s scheme to potentially infiltrate the Amicable Society as their new canvasser.

She would leave it to Maxwell to disclose that information to his colleague. Or not.

It happened that Maxwell did not inform Chisholm of those plans.

Chisholm rose. “I appreciate you sharing what you’ve learned.

I would advise you to steer clear of conducting any inquiries that will intrude on my investigation.

” He gave them each a pointed look, his gaze lingering on Tilda, as if he expected her to disobey his edict.

Or perhaps he was simply trying to assert his authority.

Whatever the reason, Tilda maintained a serene expression.

After Chisholm departed, Tilda turned to Maxwell. “You didn’t tell him about using Clement to interview Rippon or about Lord Ravenhurst angling for the canvasser position at the Amicable Society.”

“Chisholm made it clear that our investigations are separate. I saw no need to inform him of our plans. If we find Eaton, I’ll inform Chisholm, as interviewing him could help the murder investigation.”

“He seemed a bit disagreeable,” Tilda said cautiously, hoping Maxwell wouldn’t think she was overstepping. “Is he always like that?”

“He’s sometimes abrupt in his manner,” Maxwell said. “He did seem curt this evening, but he’s likely had a long day.”

Tilda supposed that was true. Perhaps she was anticipating conflict when there really wasn’t any.

Maxwell narrowed his eyes slightly. “I do wonder if he objects to your position in the investigation. He may have thought you would serve to play a role and not actively participate in making inquiries, as most women would do.”

It made Tilda feel a bit better to hear Maxwell voicing her thoughts—that Chisholm might take issue with working with a female in this manner. “Should I endeavor to remain silent, if possible?”

“Not at all,” Maxwell said quickly. He smiled at her. “Chisholm seemed to become accustomed to you, at least a little. I want him to see that you’re a capable and clever investigator.”

Tilda warmed at his compliments and his open support. “Thank you, Inspector. That is kind of you to say.” She decided this was as good a time as any to seek his approval regarding how she conducted her investigations.

“Would you mind if Lord Ravenhurst and I make inquiries or enact schemes without your directive or permission? I ask because we could have sought out Clement today about interviewing Rippon. We may already have the results of that interview this evening if we’d done so.”

A faint grimace passed over Maxwell’s features. “I do understand your perspective, and you make a good argument. Since I hired you because of your competence and skill, you should be able to conduct this investigation in the best, most efficient way possible. Please proceed at your discretion.”

“Thank you. I will be thoughtful and careful.”

Maxwell smiled. “I’ve no doubt.” He sobered. “However, I don’t want Lord Ravenhurst conducting any investigative business without your—or my—approval and consent. You must supervise his activities.”

Tilda would not share the word “supervise” with Hadrian, though she wasn’t sure if he’d take offense—at least from her.

They’d worked together long enough now, with her mostly taking the lead, that she didn’t think he would mind.

But if Maxwell said that to Hadrian, she wondered if he would be affronted.

“Will Ravenhurst mind having to report to you?” Maxwell asked, his tone carrying the barest sardonic lilt.

“Not at all. As I’ve said, we’ve worked together before, but I am the investigator and he assists as needed. Sometimes, it’s quite useful to have an earl with me when I make inquiries.”

Often, in fact. And it wasn’t just his title. Hadrian had proved himself to be a capable investigator. There were also his visions, which had sometimes driven them to important revelations, not that she could share that with Maxwell.

“How fortunate for you,” Maxwell said. “He is not an earl in this case, however. I do hope he remembers that.”

“Certainly.” Tilda felt as though she had to defend Hadrian somewhat. “He did an admirable job of appearing as Nigel Beck during our inquiries today. Lord Ravenhurst has always followed my direction, and he will do so now. I appreciate you trusting me to make decisions about the investigation.”

“I do trust you, Miss Wren.” He smiled at her, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Indeed, I admire you greatly.”

Tilda noted a surprising jolt of awareness under his warm regard. She’d only ever felt something similar with Hadrian. On many occasions, in fact. Notably, when he’d kissed her.

No, this wasn’t as strong as that. But it was…something.

Shoving the sensation away, Tilda shook out her shoulders and announced that she would be retiring. She suddenly felt too close in this house and desperately wanted to be alone.