The Sign of Death (Victorian Book Club Mystery 2)

He took her arm, and they made their way down the stairs. Once they were on their way, he said, “I don’t think we will have a problem.” He patted his jacket pocket. “I got the key from the managing agent’s office. And since we have permission to be in the flat, we will not have to hurry through our search. We can take our time and hopefully find the missing files.”

“Aside from your business arrangement, how well did you know Mr. Harding?” Amy asked.

“Quite well, I thought. But now it seems I didn’t know him at all. I had no idea he was cheating me until recently. We had dinner on occasion to discuss business matters, and he was a member of my club,

so we saw each other there sometimes.”

Amy looked out the window, her lips pursed in thought. “How did you first come to employ him?”

William leaned back and rested his foot on his knee. “About three years ago, I had been handling all my own businesses and felt the need to have help. Instead of hiring someone to do so full-time, I decided a man of business would suit me better. I asked around, and a few men suggested Harding. I interviewed him, determined we could work well together, and hired him.

“It appeared to be a fine arrangement because I do like to keep my fingers in the pie, so to speak.”

Amy turned from the window and studied him. “But not enough to figure out he was stealing from you.”

“Yes. I agree. I think what happened was I grew complacent, trusting more than I should. It has only been in the last year or so that I haven’t been diligent enough. Since it was my money, I should never have turned it all over to him. You can be sure I will not do so again with my next man.”

The carriage rolled up to a very elegant-looking building. “You own an interest in this?” Amy asked, her admiring gaze making him smile.

“Yes. It’s one of my investments. I also hold an interest in two restaurants—both in London—a hotel in Bristol, a small bank here in town, and a small printing company. Although Harding advised against it, I also put some of my money into a couple of industrial ventures in the United States.”

Amy appeared dutifully impressed. “My goodness. You are quite busy.”

“Too busy, apparently. I left too much to Harding.” The carriage stopped, and the driver opened the door. They approached the building and found the entrance unlocked. William rattled the doorknob. “I shall have the managing agency put a lock on this door.”

Inside, Amy took in the well-kept entrance hall. The wooden floor was polished to a high gleam. A gas chandelier hung over the space, highlighting a wooden-framed mirror and two plants alongside a small table that appeared to hold mail for the tenants.

“Harding’s flat is on the first floor.” They made their way upstairs, and William stopped at the first door, which bore the number 1. “This is it.” He withdrew a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. It turned easily, and they entered the flat.

“I wonder if the police have searched here yet.” Amy wandered around, looking at some of Harding’s knickknacks, which William felt were far too many for a man to have.

“I’m not sure the police have yet decided that Harding’s drowning was not an accident.” William moved to the bedroom. Everything was in order. Bed neatly made, clothing all hung up. Shoes lined up against one wall. A brush, comb, and a flowered bowl with a pitcher set inside rested on a dresser across from the bed.

“I will start in here. Amy, why don’t you search the kitchen and drawing room?” It would be far better for him, rather than an unmarried woman, to go through Harding’s personal belongings.

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll start in the kitchen.”

William methodically searched the room. He pulled open drawers, looked under the bed, scoured the wardrobe, and went through a cedar chest at the foot of the man’s bed.

No files.

He proceeded to the drawing room, where Amy had moved her search. “Nothing in the kitchen.”

William pulled out several books and flipped through them. Amy picked up sofa cushions and looked under chairs and behind drapes.

William put three books back on the shelf and took out two more. An envelope dropped to the floor from inside one of the books. He bent and picked up a letter addressed to Mr. James Harding from a Mr. Martin DuBois and began to read.

“Amy. I think I found something here.”

She walked over to him. “What it is?”

“Here.” He handed the letter to her.

Her eyes moved back and forth over the paper. When she finished, she folded it up and looked at him. “Your Mr. Harding had a partner.”

“So it appears.”

“That partner went to prison for embezzlement.”