Page 23 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

Inspector Chisholm and the other members of the police were sitting at the front of the room behind Thetford. The coroner pivoted so his back was to the witnesses and the jury would easily be able to see and hear him speak with Chisholm.

Thetford questioned Inspector Chisholm about the murder, then spoke to the constables who had been at Phelps’s house when Hadrian and Tilda had happened by.

Hadrian tensed, wondering if the constable stationed at Phelps’s door would tell the coroner that he and Tilda had been there that morning.

Thankfully, he did not. Had he been directed not to say anything?

Next, Thetford called upon Mrs. Burley. “You are a neighbor of Mr. Phelps?”

Mrs. Burley sat forward in her chair and nodded eagerly. “I am.”

“Please tell the jury what you saw on Monday evening, the eleventh of May.”

“Well, Mondays are when the Amicable Society meets here at the Swan and Hoop. My husband and I walked home from the meeting.” She flicked a glance toward her husband, who sat to her right. “We saw Mr. Phelps walking to his house in the company of Mr. Nevill, but that wasn’t unusual.”

Hadrian looked at Nevill to see his reaction.

He kept rubbing the palm of his hand against his knee.

The repetitive action made him appear nervous.

Beside him, Mr. Furnier looked annoyed, his face pinched.

His lips pursed when Mrs. Burley said it was typical for Nevill and Phelps to return to his house after a meeting.

Was that because Furnier was perturbed to be left out of whatever Phelps and Nevill may have discussed on their walk? Or perhaps Furnier hadn’t been aware that the two men often went to Phelps’s house together after meetings.

“Did you notice when Mr. Nevill left?” Thetford asked.

“Just before eleven,” she replied. “I know because I was pulling the draperies closed in the bedchamber as I was preparing to retire. I looked down and saw him leaving.”

“And did you see anyone else enter or leave Mr. Phelps’s house that evening?”

“I did not, but I also wasn’t watching the entire time,” she added with a light laugh. “Some will say I know everything that goes on in our street, but that isn’t entirely true. I do have a household to run.”

The coroner cocked his head. “Mrs. Burley, would you describe yourself as an observant person?”

“I would,” she replied proudly.

“Had you noticed any of the society administrators or the physician arguing?”

“Mr. Burley said that Mr. Furnier seemed annoyed with Mr. Phelps and Mr. Nevill at last week’s meeting. Then, afterward, I saw Mr. Phelps and Mr. Nevill arguing, though I don’t know what they said.”

“That was the meeting on the fourth of May?” Thetford clarified.

“Yes. I noted that Mr. Nevill did not accompany Mr. Phelps back to his house that night.”

Thetford shifted his gaze to her husband. “Mr. Burley, did you note anyone else calling on Mr. Phelps?”

Mr. Burley, his face pink, shook his nearly bald head. “I went to sleep as soon as we arrived home.”

“I see.” Thetford clasped his hands behind his back. “You are a member of the Amicable Society?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Burley drew herself up and lifted her chin. “He was one of the first to be offered membership. We met Mr. Phelps not long after he took his lodgings across the street from us.”

“When was that?” Thetford asked.

“Late September,” she replied.

Again, Thetford looked to Burley. “You’ve been happy with your membership?”

Burley nodded. He appeared to be a man of few words, but perhaps that was because his wife used them all.

Thetford unlocked his hands and took a step toward Burley. “Who do you think killed Mr. Phelps?”

Burley shrugged. “How would I know?”

The coroner looked to Mrs. Burley, who was clearly having difficulty not speaking. She’d moved even more to the edge of her seat. Indeed, Hadrian feared she may slip to the floor in her eagerness.

“What is your opinion, Mrs. Burley?” Thetford asked.

“I don’t know that I have an opinion . I just know that some people were unhappy with the Amicable Society because of certain memberships that were offered to people who weren’t well.”

“Which people?”

She shifted in her chair and glanced furtively toward Mrs. Cardy.

“There was a member who was admitted despite being quite ill. It is my understanding that you must be in good health to join the society. Unfortunately, he died, and his family was not given the benefit because he hadn’t been a member for a year.

His wife insists he was told he could collect benefits after six months, so I believe there is some contention.

” She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

“Who was the man who died?” the coroner asked. His gaze flicked toward Mrs. Cardy, indicating he knew, but wanted Mrs. Burley to state it for the record.

“Gilbert Cardy,” Mrs. Burley said, her shoulder twitching.

“Thank you, Mrs. Burley. Next, I should like to speak with Mr. Nevill.” The coroner pivoted to address the man.

Mr. Nevill looked somewhat pale. His hand stilled on his knee, wrapping around the front and clasping it.

“You are one of the administrators of the Amicable Society,” the coroner said. “What is your occupation?”

“I own a tailoring shop,” Nevill replied, straightening in his chair.

“And how did you come to meet Mr. Phelps?” Thetford asked.

“We were introduced by a friend of mine, Isaiah Jarret.” Nevill glanced toward one of the men in the witness row. “He is a longtime patron of my shop.”

Hadrian turned his head toward Tilda just as she glanced at him. They exchanged a meaningful look. He knew she was keen to hear what Jarret would say.

Thetford studied Nevill. “Did you become acquainted with Phelps because of the prospect of the Amicable Society, or did you become friends first?”

“Jarret had told me that he and Phelps were considering starting a friendly society. They were looking for a third person to help with the administration, and Jarret thought of me. I was interested. Phelps and I became friends because of that.”

The coroner nodded. “But Mr. Jarret did not become an administrator of the Amicable Society. Why not?”

Nevill rubbed his knee again and slid another glance toward Jarret.

“He and Phelps had a disagreement as to the core beliefs of the society. Phelps wanted it to be focused on the ward and the people who live here. Jarret agreed with that but was also insistent that the society be teetotal. Phelps refused, and Jarret ultimately removed himself from the planning.”

Thetford seemed to think a moment and glanced at Furnier before addressing Nevill once more. “After that, you approached Mr. Furnier to be the third administrator?”

Nevill nodded. “He was also a client, as well as a bank clerk—the same as Jarret. Jarret would have overseen the financial matters, so I suggested Furnier to take his place.”

Thetford’s brows gathered together. “How was your relationship with Mr. Phelps? You said you were friends. Did you ever disagree, particularly about matters pertaining to the Amicable Society?”

“We were good friends. I am greatly distressed by his death.” Nevill’s jaw tightened. “He was the primary driver behind the society.”

Hadrian noted that Nevill did not answer Thetford’s question. Since Hadrian had seen a vision in which Nevill and Phelps appeared to argue, Nevill’s prevarication seemed suspect.

“What about the matter of the ill members who were recruited and told they could collect benefits after six months?” Thetford asked. “How did that happen?”

“Walter—Phelps, that is—hired a canvasser. Timothy Eaton had worked for the Prudential Assurance Company, and we thought he would be an excellent person to help us grow the society quickly.” Nevill grimaced, his features creasing into deep lines.

“However, it seems Eaton was recruiting members who were ill and lying to them about when they would be eligible for benefits.” He dashed a pained look toward Mrs. Cardy.

“That is unfortunate,” Thetford stated. “Why has the money collected from those members, such as Gilbert Cardy, not been returned to them?”

Nevill paled. “I, ah, you must ask Mr. Furnier. I do not manage any of the financial matters.”

Taking a deep breath, Thetford pivoted slightly. “Why did you accompany Phelps home the night of his death?”

“He invited me for a nightcap, which he often did after the meetings.”

“Why was Furnier not included?” Thetford asked.

A pink flush crept up Nevill’s neck and flooded his cheeks. “We knew Furnier would decline. He always preferred to return home with his wife following the meetings.”

“What time did you leave Phelps’s house that night?”

“Nearly eleven, as Mrs. Burley said.”

Thetford narrowed his eyes at Nevill. “Did you see anyone on the street?”

Nevill shook his head. “I was in a hurry to return home. It was late.”

“And Mr. Phelps was alive when you left him?”

“Of course!” Nevill sat stock straight, his eyes rounding. “I’m deeply saddened by what happened. It’s unconscionable.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dashed it over his eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Nevill.” Thetford turned to the jury.

“We will adjourn for a short break. You may stretch your legs, but please don’t speak with anyone and do not leave the room.

” The coroner regarded the witnesses next.

“I give you the same instruction, including those of you who have already testified. You may be called upon again.” Finally, he looked toward the spectators.

“You may stand, but do not speak to the jury or the witnesses. If you choose to leave the room, you will not be readmitted.”

Thetford turned and went to speak with the clerk.

Hadrian turned his body toward Tilda as Maxwell did the same.

Tilda looked to Maxwell. “Eaton has been murdered.”

Maxwell’s eyes rounded. “That changes everything.”