“Incriminating button?” Jeremy repeated dubiously. “Incriminating? Where did you hear that word?”
“I may have read Investigating Murder and Mayhem,” Miss Thompson said airily, raising her chin. “And, Mr. Fraser—” Her brow furrowed. “Why did it take Bow Street so long to react? My uncle has been asking for help for months—quite willing to pay the Bow Street fees.”
Jeremy dragged in a deep breath, as if he had been the one talking. “Great heavens. So many questions.” It was clear that Miss Thompson had been doing a lot of thinking about the case.
She said nothing and continued to stare at him with a raised brow, likely waiting for Jeremy to explain why the Bow Street Runners had been negligent. As Jeremy had no idea why they had taken so long to respond, he thought avoiding the topic altogether was preferable to admitting ignorance. He tried to focus on the topic at hand and ignore the fact that Miss Thompson was staring at him and standing quite close. There was something rather appealing about the young lady—in an intellectual way, of course—and it was difficult to concentrate on murder and knives when her perfume wafted in his direction.
Shaking his head, Jeremy frowned. He could not allow distractions of any sort. He was a Bow Street trainee, and if all went well, he would be a Bow Street Investigator in short order. Distractions had to be ignored!
“I’m not certain of the location of the murder,” Jeremy explained after clearing his throat. “I will have to have someone show me where it occurred. I’ll get a sense of—pardon?”
“I said ‘us.’ Someone will have to show us the location.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Of course it is. Don’t worry, I’ll bring Betty there, too.”
“I wasn’t thinking of propriety.”
“What then?”
“Would it not be emotionally draining to go there … to where your cousin was murdered?” He watched her complexion turn pale.
“I don’t really want to go there. I think it will be horrible.” She drew in a ragged breath. “But I also believe it is necessary, to get a complete picture of what happened. Especially if I am going to be of assistance.”
* * *
Jeremy left Miss Thompson after having established a mutually convenient time to visit the knife merchant. While he was reluctant to lean on Miss Thompson’s good name within the town, he had to admit she was right. Being a Runner—even one still in training—would not win him any points in a town harboring poachers. Few would be comfortable with his questions, particularly if Miss Thompson had been there before him. He just hoped that Miss Thompson had the mental fortitude to deal with an investigation of this sort. He would have to watch her closely for signs of distress … a chore that would not be laborious.
Jeremy sauntered down the drive through the dappled light of the trees. His thoughts were focused—not on Miss Thompson’s numerous questions but on what the answers would have been, had she insisted on a reply.
Where was Andrew found, exactly? Jeremy would have to get that answer from Mr. Waverley, for it was doubtful that Constable Marley would lead him to the murder site. And once there, all evidence of the violence would be gone; too much time had passed. Jeremy would only be able to get the lay of the land, see its proximity to paths and houses, and imagine how the murder had taken place. There were often many possibilities.
And then there was the matter of the “incriminating button.” He laughed to himself. Where had that possibility come from? Jeremy was almost certain that Miss Thompson had been teasing.
A strange sound caught Jeremy’s attention—a rustle in the bushes on the right side of the drive. A twig snapped and then a rock rolled across the dead leaves beneath the brambles. Something was moving through the shrubbery, but it was hidden behind the large leaves of the pink flowered bush.
Was that darn cat following him? But even as the question formed in his mind, Jeremy dismissed it. The creature causing the commotion was bigger than a cat. There was too much of a disturbance.
With long, hurried strides, he rushed toward the flowering shrub. “Come out from there!” he shouted. “Show yourself!”
Nothing moved. Jeremy slowed his steps, feeling rather foolish. He was jumping at shadows. This would not do. Runners were made of stronger stuff.
He glared at the shrub, ready to accuse it of playing him false when one whole side of the plant shook as if it were being pushed aside.
“Come out!” he shouted, although with less ferocity than he had bellowed moments earlier. He was suddenly very aware that he was alone here; the nearest people were strangers uninterested in his welfare—except for the possibility of Miss Thompson.
He took a deep breath.
“Reveal yourself!” Jeremy said to the shrub, keeping his voice firm but even. “Step forward!”
This time, a figure stood. Cloaked and in shadow, there was no clue to their identity. Even the deep chuckle of mockery offered no gender. Jeremy reached into the flowering shrub, grabbing at the fleeing figure, but the shrub prevented him from getting close enough to grip the cloak.
Then, in a flash, the figure hightailed it, running toward the woods.
Jeremy tried to yank his arm clear, but his jacket sleeve caught on the hooklike branches. It took some minutes—and various curses—to free himself from the plant.
By then the cloaked figure had slipped into the dense forest and disappeared.
CHAPTER SIX
Between a Whisker and a Squeak
“But we’ve only just arrived, Papa,” Sophia said sulkily, chewing at the side of her mouth. “Mama must have written the day after we left. It’s hardly fair.”
“Hardly unexpected, either.” Papa lifted one shoulder in a casual dismissal. “I will go back early—”
“But, Papa—”
“I will go back early, as I started to say. But there is no need for you to be deprived of your cousin’s company. Your aunt Hazel has commented on Daphne’s behavior; she is laughing again and teasing William. You are good for her.” He smiled affectionately. “Doesn’t surprise me in the least. No,” he continued with a deep sigh. “I will go back, but you can stay. I’ll return in a few weeks to take you home. Still, there is no need for me to hurry away. I will write your dearest mama and let her know that I will be along eventually.”
Sophia jumped to her feet, racing around to the other side of the breakfast table. “Thank you, Papa!” she said with a broad grin, hugging him across the shoulders.
Patting her arm, Papa nodded, and then returned to his morning newspaper.
Sophia slipped out of the breakfast room, her mind a jumble of questions. First and foremost was her concern about timing. Would a few weeks be enough? Could she find a murderer within that time frame? The constable had not been able to do so in a year … but he had not had the benefit of Investigating Murder and Mayhem: A Runner’s Journey! Well, she assumed he hadn’t. The man did not look like a reader. Though, as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she began to wonder what a reader looked like.
Still, all these extraneous points were moot. Sophia had something to prove; she had to excel above the ordinary if she ever hoped to see inside the Bow Street Headquarters. However, Papa could only delay her mother for so long; Sophia would be carted back to Welford Mills eventually.