Page 52 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)
Tilda watched as Hadrian murmured to Nevill, then took the man’s hand to guide him to a chair near the wall away from the table. It took them a few moments, and Tilda anticipated Hadrian would have plenty of time to see a vision.
But after Nevill was seated, Hadrian met her gaze and gave his head a small shake. Either he hadn’t seen anything, or he hadn’t seen anything helpful. That was a shame.
“That was not quite the confession we expected,” Maxwell said, drawing Tilda to pivot toward him. “But if I were facing hanging, I would probably say whatever I could to avoid it.”
“Nevill’s declarations of innocence won’t save him if he’s proven to be guilty, and there is plenty of evidence.”
Maxwell nodded. “I hope Chisholm isn’t too upset that we discovered the killer, particularly since he probably spent time interrogating Nevill today. I imagine he won’t be happy that he didn’t catch Nevill in his lies.”
“Nevill has fooled everyone,” Tilda said. “I think Chisholm will just be grateful the case is solved.”
Hadrian returned to the table and asked Draper and Furnier if they could meet the following day to come up with a plan to repay the members.
“I still say we try to maintain the society,” Draper said.
“Especially if there isn’t enough money to refund everyone.
We can do it. I’d be happy to step in as the third administrator since Nevill can’t continue.
” He stared at Furnier expectantly, as if he were the sole arbiter of whether the society lived or died.
Tilda supposed that was true, since he was the only remaining person who’d started it.
Furnier looked at his wife, who gave him a slight nod. “I’ll consider it.”
“You should appoint him,” Hadrian said. “If the society is to continue, you need another administrator.”
“I said I’d consider it.” Furnier inclined his head toward Hadrian. “I’ll meet you at Draper’s house tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, Chisholm arrived with a pair of constables. He was furious that Nevill had lied to him repeatedly and did not believe Nevill’s insistence that he hadn’t killed anyone. In fact, he was going to recommend Nevill be charged with murdering both Eaton and Phelps.
Whilst Maxwell spoke with Chisholm for a few minutes, Tilda and Hadrian stepped away.
“You didn’t see anything when you touched Nevill?” Tilda asked.
“I saw a longer version of when he came upon Eaton’s body.
In the memory, he entered the house and walked into the parlor.
I felt his shock and anguish at seeing the dead man.
I’m confident he didn’t kill Eaton. What’s more, I’m not entirely convinced he possesses the amount of immorality or desperation necessary to have killed Phelps. ”
“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” Tilda said. She glanced toward Chisholm. “For now, we must allow the police to do what they will.”
The constables placed handcuffs on Nevill, who had started sobbing again, and led him from the room. Chisholm and Maxwell approached Tilda and Hadrian.
Chisholm’s brows were drawn tightly together, and his lips were pursed. He did not look pleased. “Apparently, you withheld information from me this morning regarding a night soil man.” He glanced at Maxwell, who must have just informed him of the evidence they’d accumulated against Nevill.
“We didn’t have solid information when we saw you,” Tilda said smoothly. “And once we had a strong suspicion as to Nevill’s involvement, we came up with this plan to hopefully provoke him to confess. I’m glad it worked.”
“You should have told me everything this morning so that I could have interviewed the night soil man,” Chisholm said tersely. “Instead, I wasted my time with Nevill, who continued to lie.”
“I daresay he won’t be lying anymore,” Hadrian said. He met Chisholm’s gaze with what Tilda would describe as his best earl expression—it exuded authority and did not encourage debate. “All’s well that ends well, isn’t it, Inspector?”
“This is not how I care to conduct my investigations.” Chisholm slid an angry glower toward Maxwell. “Your investigation is also complete.”
Maxwell didn’t appear at all bothered by Chisholm’s ire. “We’ve a few loose ends to tie up with the society. I imagine we will conclude our investigation at the Amicable Society meeting on Monday evening.”
“Well, I need all three of you to come to Old Jewry tonight to explain everything you know.” Chisholm turned and went to speak with the Furniers, who’d lingered near the far end of the table, before leaving.
Mr. and Mrs. Draper had already departed the meeting room, as had Mrs. Atkins. Now, Mr. Furnier was watching Tilda, Hadrian, and Maxwell warily.
“It’s suspicious that we’ve spent so much time speaking with the inspector,” Tilda murmured.
Maxwell moved closer to the Furniers. “What did the inspector say to you? He asked us to come to the police station to give testimony.”
“He asked us to do the same,” Furnier replied. “That’s all he asked of you?”
Hadrian nodded. “He also expressed his appreciation for our help in catching Phelps’s murderer.”
“And Eaton’s.” Furnier blinked. “I’m in shock that Nevill would do any of this. I believed he had a kind heart. He’s certainly…friendlier than I am.”
Mrs. Furnier patted her husband’s arm. “Friendliness is not goodness. Mr. Phelps was friendly enough too.”
Furnier vaguely nodded. “The inspector said Dr. Giles is at the police station giving his testimony now. I’d like to speak with him about the society.
” He looked to Maxwell and Hadrian. “We really were trying to protect this fledgling society. It seems Phelps never meant for it be successful, but we did.”
“I hope you will decide to sustain it,” Maxwell said. “I agree with Draper that it’s a benefit to the ward.”
“I agree with that too. But I don’t know that I’m the right person to continue with it.” Furnier gave them a sad smile—the only smile Tilda had ever seen him crack.
“I know you’ve suffered losses, Mr. Furnier,” Tilda said softly. She also glanced at Mrs. Furnier. “You are perhaps the best person to ensure the society’s success.”
Mrs. Furnier nodded at Tilda and curled her arm through her husband’s. “I’ll make sure he considers it.”
Furnier looked to his wife and a more genuine smile—one filled with love—lifted his features. “Let us go to the police station now.” He glanced back at Maxwell and Hadrian. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After the Furniers left, Tilda turned toward Maxwell. “You seem genuinely interested in the society’s future.”
Maxwell lifted a shoulder. “I do live in the ward—at the police station. I think I’d like to retain my membership. Provided they don’t kick me out once they learn I’ve lied about who I am.” A faint smile crossed his mouth.
“I felt guilty committing to the society, knowing I won’t be there,” Hadrian said quietly. “I was encouraging Furnier to appoint Draper. The society needs people to continue. I feel badly that they are relying on us as part of the society’s rebirth.”
“I understand.” Tilda met Hadrian’s gaze. “I’m sure you won’t abandon them entirely.”
“No, I won’t do that,” Hadrian assured her.
“Neither will I,” Maxwell said. “Shall we go to Old Jewry?”
Tilda nodded, and the three of them made their way to the common room. Mrs. Atkins was seated at a table and immediately stood upon seeing them. Tilda heard Hadrian exhale.
“I’m quite serious about the society continuing,” Mrs. Atkins said without preamble. “I’m trusting you both to be my advocates, since Furnier and Nevill won’t allow me to participate officially. Not that Nevill will have any say going forward. Perhaps Dr. Giles will be stepping in.”
“Actually, Draper has put himself forward to be an administrator,” Maxwell replied. “Dr. Giles said he wants to remove himself from the society completely.”
Mrs. Atkins frowned. “That’s a shame. He was a good representative for the society with that engaging smile of his.”
Tilda stifled a smirk. Mrs. Atkins was easily won by an attractive face.
“I’m not surprised Draper would offer himself,” Mrs. Atkins continued. “He has been a staunch advocate for the society, and his wife too. In fact, if the society falls apart, I may work with them to found a new one.”
“How wonderful to create a society that would also accept women,” Tilda said.
Mrs. Atkins’s gaze snapped to her and widened briefly. “I didn’t say we’d be doing that .”
Tilda considered asking why. Since they were women starting a society, it seemed only natural that women would be allowed membership. But she glimpsed futility in the endeavor and decided to remain silent.
Turning toward Hadrian, Mrs. Atkins fluttered her lashes. “I don’t suppose you’d care to see me home, Mr. Beck?”
“I’m afraid we’re expected at the police station,” he said apologetically, but Tilda knew he was relieved to have an excuse to refuse the woman. “Have a good evening.”
Tilda and Maxwell bid Mrs. Atkins good evening as well, then followed Hadrian from the pub.
Something wasn’t sitting quite right with Tilda.
She wasn’t sure if it was Chisholm’s anger at how the case was resolved, or if the case wasn’t actually resolved.
She still wasn’t completely convinced that Nevill had killed Phelps, and, thanks to Hadrian, she was certain Nevill hadn’t helped Phelps kill Eaton.
But if not Nevill, who was Phelps’s murderer?