The Sign of Death

by Callie Hutton

  As they turned to leave, Detective Marsh spoke, one of the few times he had, since he’d spent most of his time scribbling in his notebook. “I wish to remind you, my lord, that we await the information you intend to provide showing that you were nowhere near the pub in question a day or two before Mr. Harding was found.”

  William nodded, anxious to get home and check his appointment book to see what he’d been doing that week. Hopefully there was a notation that would jar his memory and provide an alibi. Right now, as frazzled as he was, he could not remember what he’d been doing the night before, let alone the week in question.

  The three men reached the outside of the building. Fresh air had never smelled better. Mr. Nelson-Graves addressed William. “I will need you to meet me in my office either tomorrow or the day after.”

  “Yes. I will send a note around as to the time and day I will be available for you.” William then turned to Mr. Lawrence. “I hope the police provide the copy of the file to you quickly. I need to begin my campaign to restore my good name with the individuals and businesses that Harding lured into false contracts.”

  “You have a lot of work ahead of you, my lord. If there is anything I can do to assist in that matter, please let me know.” Mr. Lawrence gave a slight bow and walked away, heading for his carriage waiting at the end of the pavement.

  “I will see you, then, in a couple of days.” Mr. Nelson-Graves also took his leave, heading across the street to where his office was located.

  William waved his carriage forward and climbed in. He rested his head on the back of the squab and closed his eyes. He’d never been in such a mess in his life. The murder charge hanging over his head was bad enough, but the predicament Harding had created for him in the business community was almost as daunting.

  Feeling like he needed to speak with someone who understood his dilemma, he tapped on the ceiling of the carriage and instructed his driver to take him to Amy’s house. Hopefully she would be home and could offer some peace of mind just by being herself.

  He spent the ride trying to clear his mind of the session he’d just gone through with the police.

  Stevens greeted him and opened the door to allow him entrance. “Yes, my lord, Lady Amy is at home and was expecting you. Her ladyship is in the drawing room.”

  He made his way down the corridor and stepped into the drawing room, feeling a sense of peace just being there. Amy hopped up from the settee and hurried over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. Startled, he pulled her closer, and his eyes shuttered as he held her, his chin resting on her head.

  They said nothing for a full minute, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, then slowly returning to normal. Finally Amy pulled back, and he immediately missed her warmth and the scent of lavender that always surrounded her.

  “Was it terrible?”

  He thought of playing the cavalier and making light of it, but then realized he wanted her to know the truth. He didn’t want to hide this from her. Or anything else, for that matter. What that meant, he didn’t have the energy to analyze right then. He looked down into her deep-green eyes, full of caring and something else warm and inviting, and said, “Yes.” He closed his eyes and tucked her against his body, resting his chin on her head again. “It was terrible.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Three days later, William arrived back at Amy’s house in the early afternoon to escort her to the Pump Room. She hadn’t seen him since the day he’d been interrogated by the police. He’d told her he would be busy for the next few days, gathering whatever information he could to give to his solicitor and barrister.

  He’d sent a note to her saying that he needed a break and a distraction and suggested an outing to the Pump Room and then maybe a walk in Victoria Park. While he was busy with his issues, Amy spent her time making a list of all their suspects. She’d added Mrs. Ethel Burrows from the ledger to her original list of Mrs. Whitney, Patrick Whitney, Miss Gertrude O’Neill, and Mr. David Montrose.

  Five suspects. All with a reason to kill Mr. Harding. They’d yet to find Mr. Montrose. William had checked his clubs, and he and Amy had attended the Assembly dances since all of this had started, and so far Mr. Montrose had not yet made an appearance.

  Although Mr. Lemmon had admitted to William that he’d had issues with Mr. Harding and they’d found his file among those hidden at Harding’s home, they hadn’t yet decided to add his name to the list, since he’d seemed to be more interested in getting his barrister to straighten out the mess Harding had caused with his finances.

  William had stayed away from the book club meeting the night before, and Amy had to admit the gathering had seemed rather dull without him. A few members had asked after him, and she’d only said he was engaged in business matters.

  Apparently no one had heard about the police considering William their top suspect, for which she was grateful. It had been difficult for her the year before when the police had assumed she’d killed her ex-fiancé and everyone had inundated her with questions.

  Tomorrow was the Assembly again, and maybe they would be lucky this time. Amy had asked around at morning calls—which she viewed as a sacrifice to William’s well-being—and finally someone had heard of Mrs. Burrows. She apparently owned a small millinery in the center of Bath.

  Maybe before she and William returned home from their trip to town, they could find the millinery shop, the Hat Box, and speak with Mrs. Burrows.

  The door to her bedchamber opened. “His lordship has arrived.” Lacey walked into the room. “You’ve done your hair yourself. Why did you not summon me?”

  Amy shrugged. “You were busy with something else. Why? Does it look bad?”

  Lacey studied her mistress. “It could be worse. Let me adjust your hat so that it might hide part of it.”

  “I guess that means yes, it does look bad,” Amy mumbled, as Lacey directed her to a chair and began to fool with her hair and hat.

  “Don’t take too long. I don’t want to keep Lord Wethington waiting.”

  “Oh my.” Lacey grinned and continued to fuss with her hair.

  Amy stood. “I don’t know what you mean by oh my, but I think you’ve done enough with my hair.”

  She grabbed her reticule and left the room. William waited for her at the front door, chatting with Stevens. He turned and gave her a wide smile that set off some strange sensations in her stomach.

  “Good afternoon, my lady. You look wonderful.” He gave a slight bow.

  Amy turned to face Lacey, who was just descending the stairs, and merely raised her eyebrows. Apparently William didn’t think she’d made such a mess of her hair.

  Once they were settled in the carriage, Amy withdrew the list she’d compiled that morning. “I have names here that we can investigate.”

  William raised his hand. “I appreciate your work on this, but for this afternoon, I prefer not to speak of anything having to do with Harding’s death, my pending arrest, the suspects, and my friends Detective Marsh and Detective Carson. Let us just enjoy the day out.”

  Although she was anxious to share her information, she understood his need for a respite. He must have spent a great deal of time worrying and searching for information since the last time she’d seen him.

  “Yes. You are correct. The sun is shining, it’s a beautiful day for February, and we should discuss nothing but happy, joyful things.”

  William grinned. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say only rainbows and unicorns can be discussed, but let’s put off any conversation about the murder until we’ve at least had our tea.”

  Silence ensued for the rest of the ride, since nothing else seemed worthy of consideration.

  Once the carriage arrived close to the Roman Baths, William helped Amy out, and instead of taking her arm, he entwined their fingers, and they strolled along holding hands.

  It felt much different than having their arms joined. Again that strange sensation reared itself in her stomach. Strange, yet pleasant.

&nbs
p; First they ventured into the Pump Room and had a glass of the beneficial spa waters. Then they made their way to the dining area, which was about half-full. Amy didn’t recognize too many people, so chances were visitors and tourists made up the majority of diners.

  “Tea for the lady and me,” William said to the server who approached them.

  “Very good, my lord. I shall be right back.”

  “How did he know you were a lord?”

  William raised his brows. “Don’t I look like a lord?”

  Amy sat back and studied him. Tall, aristocratic nose, firm chin, well-built body, clothes of the finest cut and fabric, an adeptly tied cravat, and an arrogance about him that only a member of the nobility could pull off. She nodded. “Yes.”

  They both laughed.

  Amy looked around the room while they waited for their tea. “Isn’t that Mr. Davidson over there?” She gestured with her head in the direction of two men sitting at a table near the window.

  William studied the pair. “I believe it is. And if I am correct, it looks like that gentleman friend of his is with him again. Strange. He introduced Mr. Rawlings to the group for the first time a few weeks ago, but now it seems every time I see Davidson, they are together.”

  “Most likely he is a new friend.” Amy looked back at William. “I can’t imagine anyone being his friend, actually. He is certainly not an amiable man, and I do dislike remarks he’s made during book club discussions about women.”

  William laughed. “Yes. I know a few times the two of you almost came to fisticuffs.”

  Conversation ceased as the server placed a teapot, cups, saucers, silverware, and a plate of small sandwiches and sweets on the table. “Shall I pour?” the server asked.

  “No, but thank you. I will pour.”

  The server nodded at Amy and headed back to another part of the dining room to stop and chat with two diners.

  “Don’t pass up the sweets again,” William said as she placed a half sandwich on her plate.

  Amy looked down at the tarts, biscuits, and scones. “I really do need to watch what I eat.”

  “Nonsense. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  The fluttering sensation again.

  He really did say such nice things to her. She shrugged and took a small piece of chocolate cake from the tray.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about the murder investigation, but I need something to occupy my mind. Using the code, I added another name to our list. It turns out one of the blackmailees—is that a word?—is a woman who owns a millinery shop on Union Street called the Hat Box.”

  “Very imaginative.”

  “Yes, well, I thought perhaps we could visit with her this afternoon. That is, if you want to. I know you said you prefer to forget about all of it this afternoon.”

  William reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I know you’re concerned about me. I appreciate that. Once we’ve refreshed ourselves with tea, we will visit the millinery shop.”

  “And then we can take a stroll in Victoria Park.”

  “If you wish.”

  The millinery shop turned out to be quite exclusive. Based on the women going in and out, it catered to the upper crust.

  They strolled outside the store for about fifteen minutes before there was a break in the streams of women patronizing the establishment.

  They entered the store, and Amy was immediately impressed. It was clean, well stocked, and brightly lit, with floor-to-ceiling windows. The woman behind the counter walked up to them. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

  Amy looked over at William. “I believe I would like to try a few hats.”

  “Please do.” He turned and walked to a grouping of chairs with a small marble-topped table in front of them. It had obviously been set up to provide a space for husbands and fiancés to wait while their women selected chapeaus.

  “I would like to try that hat on.” Amy pointed to a deep-blue, large-brimmed confection with flowers on the crown and pale-blue netting enveloping the whole thing, with enough left in front to cover the face.

  She sat on a stool in front of a line of mirrors. The woman placed the hat on her head, adjusted the set of it, and drew the netting down over Amy’s face. “This is lovely on you, my lady.” She looked over at William. “Don’t you agree, my lord?”

  “Yes. It does look quite elegant on you, Lady Amy.”

  Still confused as to how the woman knew them as lord and lady, Amy turned left and right, admiring herself. “Do you own the shop?”

  “Yes. I am the owner. My name is Mrs. Ethel Burrows, and I would be honored to be of service to you.”

  Amy glanced at William through the mirror. His eyebrows rose.

  “Your name sounds familiar to me. I feel as though I know you from somewhere.” Amy continued to admire herself in the mirror.

  “May I ask your name?”

  “Yes. Of course. I am Lady Amy Lovell. And that is Lord Wethington.”

  The store owner gave a quick dip to them both. “It is a pleasure, I am sure.”

  “I remember now. I believe we have a mutual friend in Mr. James Harding. Although I understand he—”

  Mrs. Burrows snatched the hat off Amy’s head, taking a bit of her hair with it. “If you will excuse me, my lord, my lady. I just remembered an appointment, and I must close the shop.”

  She scurried from around the counter, lifted Amy by her arm, and marched her to the door. Amy dug in her heels. “Wait. Wait a minute. Please.”

  “I do not wish to discuss that man. If you have anything else to say about him, I ask you to please leave.”

  William stood and walked over to the two women. “If you will humor me, Mrs. Burrows. I believe my companion here would be delighted to purchase one of your hats. We did not mean to upset you.”

  Mrs. Burrows straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “Upset does not begin to define it. The man was a scoundrel, a criminal, and a rogue. If he were not already dead, I would be purchasing a gun right now to kill him myself.”

  Well then.

  “Mrs. Burrows, I apologize that we have upset you so.” William led her over to the cozy corner, where all three of them sat. “I understand your not wishing to discuss the man, but I find myself a main suspect in Harding’s murder, and I am trying my best to uncover the true killer.”

  “As I said, I did not kill him, but given enough time, I would surely have gone completely against everything I believe in and put a hole in the man’s heart. Well, actually, he had no heart, so maybe his brain.”

  “I assume he was blackmailing you.”

  Mrs. Burrows eyes grew wide, but she clamped her lips shut and nodded.

  “I believe you are one of several,” Amy said.

  “Then if you are looking for his killer, I’m afraid you will have quite a long list of potential suspects.”

  “Did you know any of the other people he was blackmailing?” Amy reached over and took the woman’s hand. “I have absolutely no interest in why he was blackmailing you, so you may ease your mind on that.”

  Just then the door to the shop opened. Mrs. Burrows hopped up. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Paisley.” She waved at William and Amy. “They were just about to leave.” She glared at them, leaving them no choice but to gather their things and exit the store.

  “Well, that went very well.” Amy stared back at the storefront. “I would have liked to buy one of her hats, actually. They were quite pretty.”

  William took her hand again, and they walked to where his carriage waited behind the store. “It seems there are several people who would have liked to kill Harding. Our problem is, which one of them actually carried through on their threat to do so?” He helped Amy into the carriage.

  “Do you still wish to walk in the park?”

  “No. Frankly, I am quite rattled by Mrs. Burrows’s actions and words. There was a great deal of hatred and malice in her attitude. I honestly believe her. I think if she had the oppo
rtunity and the means, she would have killed him.”

  “So far, Patrick Whitney and Miss Gertrude would have as well. And we have yet to speak with Mr. Montrose.”

  William looked out the window as the carriage moved into traffic. “We have a few suspects who certainly had a motive to kill him, but we need the person who actually did the deed.”

  “And are you one of them?” Amy asked.

  “With a motive to kill him? Not that I would ever step over that line, but I’m afraid to say, yes. Although I didn’t discover I even had a motive until after he was already dead, so we don’t need to add my name to our list.”

  “Not since the police already have you at the very top of theirs.”

  He shook his head. “They have what they consider conclusive evidence.” William reached into his pocket and withdrew a paper. “I forgot about this note my butler handed me as I left earlier today to escort you to tea. I’m afraid I was a bit distracted.”

  He opened it, read it, and smiled at Amy. “Nick Smith has found Patrick Whitney.”

  CHAPTER 22

  William dropped the knocker on the worn wooden door and stepped back, prepared for anything. Nick Smith had provided this address as belonging to Patrick Whitney. It was not his home, apparently, but for some reason he was living here.

  It was eleven o’clock in the morning, and unless Whitney was an early riser, he should be at home. William had been watching the house for the past hour to see if anyone came out, but everything remained quiet.

  It was a hoarier section of Bath, the houses mostly eighty to a hundred years old. Not exactly seedy, but the area would not be considered middle class. William dropped the knocker again.

  About two minutes later the door opened and a woman stuck her head out. She appeared to be somewhere in her early thirties, and judging by her dishabille, she had just risen from her bed. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “I was told Mr. Patrick Whitney was residing here.”