However, upon reaching the tree, he found that there was no one behind it. The grass was slightly trampled but there was no telling when that occurred. “Not to worry, there is no one—”
Off to the side, the bushes shook, and out slunk a large gray cat. Jeremy heard a distinct giggle from behind him.
“Oh dear.” Miss Thompson laughed. “And here I was certain that I was being watched.”
“You were … by a cat.”
“Rufus.”
“I beg your pardon. You were being watched by a Rufus.” He returned to Miss Thompson’s side.
“Would you care to take a turn about the garden?” she asked. “Not at all appropriate to be seen chatting on the front lawn.”
She gestured to the side of the house and Jeremy fell into step. “Was there something you wished to discuss?” he asked, seeing her attempt to begin their conversation several times.
Miss Thompson grinned in a charmingly mischievous manner. “Well, yes. I was hoping you could explain a few things to help me understand. If you don’t mind.”
“If I can, I would be pleased to do so.”
The path they had chosen widened out and wound past a bed of roses. He offered his arm so that they could stroll and converse comfortably.
“Excellent. Then perhaps we will start with explaining the object in your hand,” she said. “What it is and why it is swathed in a handkerchief.”
“Ah.” Jeremy held up the knife, though he would admit that it looked nothing like a knife, wrapped up as it was. He kicked at a rock, sending it skittering across the path. “Why do you wish to know, Miss Thompson? It is not a pleasant object. Are you prepared for that?”
“I am indeed prepared, Mr. Fraser. I wish to be party to the investigation. Two heads are better than one, don’t you think?”
Jeremy tripped, jerking them both forward. With an apology, he stopped to pick up an unremarkable stone and dropped it at the edge of the path as if had been the culprit of his trip. Taking Miss Thompson’s elbow again he led them forward. “Why do you wish to be involved in the investigation?”
“I feel an obligation to Daphne and my aunt and uncle to help if I can. I know West Ravenwood and its people; my insight could be of great use.”
Jeremy paused. “Is that all?” he asked, certain there was more—something was hanging in the air, unaddressed.
Flushing prettily, Miss Thompson dropped her gaze to the stones beneath their feet. “I thought it might be good training.”
“Training?”
“I would like to become a Bow Street Officer,” she said quickly. “A Runner.”
Had they been walking still, Jeremy would have tripped again. Her answer was completely unexpected. “It is an … unlikely outcome, Miss Thompson. There are no female Runners and, most would argue, for a good many reasons.” Emotions were on edge, criminals were often violent, and Runners saw a very seedy side of life—all of it not suitable for a gently brought up girl.
But even as his mind rejected the idea, he met her piercing gaze and noted her emotionless expression; there were some at Bow Street who had not mastered as much. And while he knew the majority of Runners would not welcome the assistance of a woman—a young woman at that—Jeremy knew the value of a different opinion.
“It’s not a safe or comfortable career, Miss Thompson. I would hope to change your mind.”
“You can’t,” she said in a clipped voice. “So, what is it in your hand?”
Jeremy looked skyward for a moment, thinking. “Yes, of course … This is…” He cleared his throat. “Mr. Waverley gave me a knife—one that he believes was used in the murder of your cousin. He has been searching Glendor Wood for several months. I would have thought clues to be few and far between at this late stage, but apparently while his search of the lower path—leading to West Ravenwood—was of no value, he did discover this knife under a bush on the upper path. The one that apparently leads to Savor Road and eventually Allenton Park.” He looked at the object in his hand and then dropped his arm, effectively hiding the knife from her sight. “It’s not a common knife. The carving on the handle is of Middle Eastern or Asian design.”
“Can I see it?” Sophia slowly held out her hand, looking reluctant to touch the knife despite her request. Once it was in her hand, though, she unwrapped it and stared at the carving with intensity. “Curious. It has a strange primitive style, predominantly black with bright splashes of color,” she said. “And I wonder what this is supposed it be? Are the figures sitting in a boat, perhaps? An indication that the artist is from an island of some sort? I know none of this affects the investigation, but it might be an indication of the type of person we are looking for. Yes, quite unusual and appealing … in a dangerous, murderous way.”
She slowly turned it over, assessing the underside. “There seems to be an artist’s mark on the blade.” Straightening, she handed the lethal object back. “It should not be hard to find the owner. The knife is unique.”
“I quite agree,” he remarked with a nod of approval. He was impressed with her observations. “I will start my investigations with the knife merchant in town. The people at the inn will be able to direct me to his shop.”
“Excellent idea, but the merchant is unlikely to know anything about it.”
“Really?” Jeremy lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile. “You think it might have come from elsewhere? Perhaps it was bought while the owner was on a tour abroad, or some such?”
“Yes, there is that. You would have to talk to the surgeon about the size of the wound in Andrew’s chest—to establish that this might be the knife—otherwise it is just a knife hidden in the woods. But I was thinking more in regard to Mr. Tilter, the knife merchant. He is a quiet, withdrawn sort of person and easily annoyed. Repeated questions are bound to cause him a great deal of irritation. He will deflect and show you the door.”
“Why would he be dealing with repetitive questions? I imagine Constable Marley spoke to him months ago. Surely that would not set him off.”
“Not Constable Marley, me. I intend to speak to Mr. Tilter as well. I cannot investigate without asking questions.”
“But you will not have the knife to show him.”
“No, but I can describe it fairly accurately. And I already know where his shop is located, so I will reach him before you.”
Jeremy frowned and huffed in frustration—disappointed somehow that Miss Thompson intended to thwart him. His appreciation of her person dipped slightly. “So, you intend to interfere.”
“Not at all, Mr. Fraser. I intend to investigate.”
Her expression brightened, and Jeremy’s appreciation bounced back up again.
“I suggest that we work together. There is no need to plague the townspeople—or each other—more than necessary.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice. “I’ll bring Betty.”
“Betty?” He started to stroll again, pulling Miss Thompson forward with him. “Who might she be?”
She smiled. “Betty is my maid. You and I cannot wander about without a chaperone, after all. It would cause a great fuss—concern about my reputation, and such. So, that then is settled. We will work together.” She went on quickly when Jeremy opened his mouth to disagree. “We’ll need to learn where Andrew was found—the exact place. Was the ground trampled? Did it look like more than one person was in the area? Did said person lie in wait? Was anything usual found at the scene? I’m thinking of something besides the knife … poacher’s traps, a mysterious glove or an incriminating button.”