Page 155 of Murder in Highbury

“Their best almost got you killed,” she pointed out.

“True, but Elton managed to fool all of us.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I cannot believe I allowed him to pull the wool over my eyesagain.”

“My darling, unlike the rest of us, you managed to put the pieces of this mad puzzle together. I, for one, stand in awe of your detecting skills.”

“Jane and Frank deserve praise, too, though. Without them, the idea that Mr. Elton was the killer would never have entered my head.”

“But you saw what the rest of us failed to see.”

She waggled a hand. “I failed to see that he was in love with me.”

“Yes, but I believe he was also greatly driven by love of money—your money, specifically.” He gently kissed the tip of her nose. “Not that I blame the villain for being in love with you. Any man would be, given the slightest chance.”

She graced him with a smile. “Thank you, dearest. But I still maintain that it was really love of self. Mr. Elton simply refused to accept that I could ever reject him. His mind could not contemplate such a thing.”

“Nor could he accept the loss of his social and financial standing.”

She tapped a finger to her chin. “A few weeks ago, Mr. Elton quoted scripture to me. He said that the love of money was the root of all evil. How ironic that he was speaking of himself, although I suppose he was too deluded to recognize that at the time.”

George nodded, holding her close. Outside, night fell softly over the gardens, a gentle benediction after the horrors of the day. Emma let the peace of the late summer evening rest upon her. In the days to come, she would no doubt think much on these events and how they had affected and would continue to affect her family, friends, and indeed all of Highbury. For now, though, she was content in the knowledge that her loved ones were safe and whole.

After a few moments, George stirred. “I will likely be gone for most of the day tomorrow.”

Emma sighed. “Drat. I suppose you will be going to Guildford again. How tiresome for you.”

“It is, but I still have questions for Elton, ones necessary for preparing the indictment. Constable Sharpe quite rightly wishes to transfer him to the gaol as soon as possible, and I think it best if I accompany him.”

“I do not envy you such a grim task.” She suddenly pulled out of his loose embrace. “I forgot to ask you. What of Mrs. Wright? Did Mr. Elton have anything to say aboutherodd behavior?”

“I did ask him, particularly in regards to her feelings toward Suckling. Apparently, Mrs. Wright was resentful on Mrs. Elton’s behalf, both because Suckling lost her fortune in the first place and because he was then unable to provide any assistance.”

“So her hatred toward all of us was the result of her loyalty to her mistress. I’m surprised, though, that she never mentioned anything about the Eltons’ argument on the day of the murder. That seems odd.”

“Mrs. Wright will be required to testify at Elton’s trial, where I’m sure that question will be raised. One can only assume, however, that if she had any suspicions about her employer, there was no proof to support them.”

Emma nodded. “And Mr. Suckling was a very handy suspect, which no doubt colored her thinking. That makes sense.”

“Yes.” George glanced at her with a slight grimace. “I’m afraid you might be called on to testify, as well. You must prepare yourself for that.”

She’d already anticipated that such would be the case. “That is certainly annoying, but at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I solved the murder.”

And that, she had to admit, wasquitesatisfying.

George smiled. “That you did. I am hopeful, however, that your detecting days are over. Unless, that is, you wish to take on my duties as magistrate. I should be grateful for the break.”

She couldn’t resist flashing him a cheeky grin. “That is much too high-minded for me. I think my skills might best be employed assisting Constable Sharpe. He isn’t having much luck with the poultry thief, is he? Think of the speckled hens, George. Think of poor Dr. Hughes. We cannot allow this crime spree to continue unchecked.”

Her husband looked pained. “My dear, I beg you to refrain.”

Emma laughed. “Poor George. You have nothing to fear, I’m sure. Soon enough, Highbury will return to its sleepy old self, and nothing remotely as dreadful as these past weeks will ever happen again.”

He raised a hand, as if taking a vow. “From your lips to God’s ear.”

“You may be sure of it. After all, I am always right, am I not?”

George chuckled, but in this case, Emma felt certain she was correct. Lightning never struck twice, and in Highbury neither would murder.