Page 24 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

T ilda wasn’t sure how it changed things, though it did complicate their investigation. “What do you mean? Other than that we can’t interview him now.” That was a major disappointment. Now the two men who would know the most about whatever the fraudulent membership scheme may be were dead.

“Yes, that is what I mean. Our investigation has become more difficult.” Maxwell frowned. “How did you find out about Eaton?”

In a hushed tone, Tilda explained what Chisholm had told them earlier.

“Eaton’s murder poses many questions and seems directly connected to our investigation.” Maxwell looked at Hadrian. “It will be most helpful if Nevill and Furnier agree to hire you. Will you speak to them after the inquest?”

“That is my plan,” Hadrian said.

Thetford addressed the room once more and announced the inquest would begin again. He turned toward the witnesses and addressed Furnier. “Mr. Nevill explained how you came to know Mr. Phelps. Was what he said accurate?”

Furnier’s mouth was tightly set. “Yes.”

“Would you say that you and Mr. Phelps developed a friendship like he and Mr. Nevill?” the coroner asked.

“We were not friends, no. We were colleagues.”

Thetford cocked his head. “Why weren’t you friends?”

“We didn’t have a great deal in common. He and Nevill are not married and, apparently, shared an affinity for a nightcap .” Furnier sniffed as if he smelled something unpleasant.

“Does it bother you that they didn’t invite you to share their nightcap routine?”

“Not at all,” Furnier replied sharply. “I do not imbibe.”

“You are teetotal then?” Thetford clarified.

“Yes.” Furnier lifted his chin. His expression was that of someone who believed themselves superior.

“Did you have a problem with the society not being teetotal?”

Furnier’s brow creased as he looked up at the coroner with irritation. “Clearly, I do not, or I would not have worked so hard to found it with Nevill and Phelps. I shared their belief that the Amicable Society would be a benefit to the Coleman Street Ward.”

“Thank you, Mr. Furnier. I appreciate your candor,” Thetford said. “Can you tell us how Mr. Eaton was hired to be a canvasser?”

“That was Phelps’s idea.” Furnier’s tone held a faint note of derision, and Tilda wondered if he’d been against hiring Eaton.

“I would tell you to ask him, but obviously you cannot. Phelps thought a canvasser would grow our membership more quickly and suggested Eaton. Nevill and I asked to meet with him, which we did. I was impressed with his experience working for the Prudential Assurance Company. However, given what he did whilst recruiting members for the Amicable Society, I regret not speaking with someone there about his tenure. I took Phelps’s assurances. ”

“Can you please state what Mr. Eaton did whilst recruiting members for the Amicable Society?” Thetford asked. “Specifically, I would ask that you speak to your knowledge of the collection of fees.”

Tilda leaned forward slightly. This was most important to their investigation.

Furnier’s gaze was cool. “You’ve already heard that Eaton was recruiting members who were ill and telling them they could collect benefits after six months, which was against our established policy.

We require a year of membership before one may collect benefits.

Eaton added their names to the membership roll and gave me the entrance fees every Sunday, which I added to the lockbox on Mondays before our weekly meeting. ”

“Did you ever find a discrepancy in the amount Eaton gave you?”

“No,” Furnier replied firmly. “All the required funds were accounted for.”

Thetford’s gaze was fixed intently on Furnier. “Did Mrs. Cardy ask for her husband’s fees to be refunded?”

“I’m not aware of her doing so.”

“Thank you, Mr. Furnier. One last question. Who, in your opinion, would want to kill Mr. Phelps?”

“Someone with no moral compass,” Furnier said with disgust.

The coroner turned his attention to the next witness in the row of chairs. “Dr. Giles, you are the society’s physician. What is your exact role?”

The doctor’s gaze fixed on the coroner as he responded. “I assess the health of potential members in order to determine if they are eligible for benefits. I will also ensure members are deceased before benefits are distributed.”

“What method do you use to establish someone’s eligibility?”

Shifting in the chair, Dr. Giles looked away from Thetford. “I interview them regarding their age, state of health, and the existence of illness within their family.”

Tilda sensed the doctor was uneasy with this question.

Thetford regarded him expectantly. “Do you conduct examinations to ensure they are providing accurate information about their health?”

The doctor still did not meet the coroner’s gaze. “Not always.”

His response seemed to carry an edge of regret, which Tilda could understand. The process Dr. Giles used to ascertain a member’s eligibility seemed rather inadequate.

“How did you come to work for the society?” Thetford held up a hand. “Forgive me, I’m not sure if you are a paid employee. Are you?”

Dr. Giles flattened his spine to the back of the chair and pushed his shoulders back as he returned his focus to Thetford. “I will be paid when it comes time to review claims for benefits.”

“You are not currently compensated for assessing potential members?” Thetford asked.

“No.”

“Let us return to my question. How did you come to work for the society?”

The doctor smoothed his hands over his thighs. “Phelps had placed an advertisement in the newspaper. I called on him to discuss the position, and he hired me.”

“Since you are not currently paid for your work with the society, are you employed elsewhere?”

A slight frown marred Dr. Giles’s classically handsome features. “I work with another physician on Gresham Street.”

Thetford cocked his head. “I’m curious why you would accept a position with the society in addition to your other employment. What was your reasoning?”

“I live in Coleman Street Ward, and I was eager to be involved in a friendly society dedicated to the ward’s benefit.” The doctor’s voice sounded tight, and Tilda wasn’t certain he was being entirely honest. Perhaps he was nervous.

“What was your relationship with Timothy Eaton?” Thetford asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Were you aware he was admitting members who did not meet the health requirements?”

“I barely knew him, and no, I was not aware.”

Thetford blinked. “You said that you interview potential members about their age, health, and illness within their family. Did you not assess every member? Let me be specific. Did you assess Mr. Cardy’s health prior to his membership?”

Dr. Giles’s face flushed. “I did not.”

“Then why was Mr. Cardy allowed to become a member?” The coroner watched Giles intently, but he also cast glances toward Mrs. Cardy, as well as Furnier and Nevill.

“You’ll have to ask them.” Dr. Giles flung his hand toward the two living administrators. “I did not approve Cardy or anyone else who may be ill. That is not what I agreed to do.” His voice rose slightly.

Thetford’s brows darted up. “What do you mean? What did you agree to do?”

Tilda was glad he asked the question, for she found Dr. Giles’s choice of words notable. She was also watching—and noting—the others’ reactions. Mrs. Cardy watched the interrogation with open hostility, whilst Nevill appeared pale, and Furnier looked peeved.

“Precisely what I already told you. I assess potential members.”

“But you did not assess Mr. Cardy?” Thetford confirmed.

“No.” The doctor gave his head several vigorous shakes for good measure.

“You seem angry about this,” Thetford noted quietly. “Why?”

Dr. Giles took a breath and rolled his shoulders.

“I do not like my reputation impugned. I would not misrepresent someone’s medical state.

I was not aware Eaton was admitting members.

I am not an administrator. The three of them did not include me in all the society’s business.

” He sent a perturbed glance toward Nevill and Furnier.

“I understand,” the coroner said evenly. “Thank you, Dr. Giles.”

Thetford turned his attention to Furnier. “You said Eaton recorded new members in the membership roll and that you accounted for the entrance fees. Did you not account for the health qualifications of these members?”

“That is not my responsibility,” Furnier said coolly. “That is up to Dr. Giles and Nevill, since he is our membership director.”

Nevill’s face turned scarlet. “I— Walter said anyone Eaton admitted was fine! I didn’t realize they hadn’t been assessed by Giles!”

“It is a shame we can’t ask Mr. Phelps if that’s true,” Thetford said with a humorless smile. “May I assume that your recollection would be at odds with his, and that you may have argued about such matters?”

“We did not argue,” Nevill grumbled, his gaze shifting to the floor.

“Others have testified that you have,” Thetford noted. He drew a deep breath and returned his attention to the doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Giles.”

Thetford took a few steps as his gaze moved to the next person in the row of chairs and asked his name.

“Isaiah Jarret.”

“You knew Mr. Phelps?” the coroner asked.

“I did.” Jarret sent a dark look toward Phelps’s body and gave his head the barest shake. The man was middle-aged, with thinning sable hair and long side whiskers that were sprinkled with gray. His eyes were hooded beneath brown, bushy brows.

“Mr. Nevill said you introduced him to Mr. Phelps. How did you come to be acquainted with the deceased?” Thetford asked.

“I met him at St. Stephen’s one Sunday,” Jarret replied. “We shared an affinity for Wren’s architectural designs. We would visit his buildings and discuss them.”

“It sounds as though you became friendly,” Thetford observed. “But then you fell out over the teetotal business?”