“Precisely. I shall begin with the clue the detective threw out as he was leaving. He said they had not caught up with Mr. Albright. I can find out where he keeps his rooms. If he’s left Bath in a hurry, he might not have had time to take everything with him. We can search his rooms and look for clues.”
William groaned. “Search his rooms? Don’t you think the police have already done that?”
“First of all, I am not entirely sure they will do that. As I said, to my way of thinking, they will spend the bulk of their time trying to prove me the killer. The murder only happened yesterday, and they have been so focused on me, searching Mr. Albright’s rooms might not be a priority. Also, if he is not there to let them in, they cannot officially search his rooms without cause. The fact that he served time for murder and is employed here doesn’t denote sufficient cause to believe he murdered Mr. St. Vincent. We might very well find our own clues before they do.”
“We? There is that frightening word again.”
She raised her chin. “Will you help me or not?”
“The devil take it. If I don’t help you, I would never get another full night’s sleep just imagining all the trouble you will get yourself into on your own.”
She sat very still as he weighed the situation. The William she knew from the book club was a very shrewd and calculating man. He didn’t jump into things and always examined everything from all angles before he made a decision. After a few minutes, he said, “Very well. I will assist you. However, you are to take no risks on your own.”
She grinned at him. “Of course not!”
“E. D. Burton?”
Amy rolled her eyes.
CHAPTER 7
“Amy!” The sound of Eloise’s high-pitched voice, which she generally made use of when she was excited, echoed throughout the house. Grinning at her friend’s less-than-ladylike entry, Amy left the drawing room, where she had been attempting to lose herself in a book, and met Eloise as she hurried past a very surprised Lacey, who had apparently answered the door.
Eloise threw herself into Amy’s arms and hugged her. “Why did you not summon me this morning? I just heard from one of Father’s employees that a man was murdered here, in your house, yesterday.” All her words were rushed together, in a very typical Eloise manner.
“Come, let’s sit down.” Amy took her friend by the arm and they walked to the settee.
Eloise took both of Amy’s hands and stared at her. “Well?”
Amy took a deep breath. “Actually, the murder victim was Mr. St. Vincent.”
Eloise drew back, her eyes wide. “Your fiancé?”
“Ex-fiancé.”
After several moments of silence, Eloise said, “When did he become your ex-fiancé?”
“There is so much I haven’t had the chance to tell you.”
“So it seems. You never said a word about it Thursday at the book club meeting, nor Saturday when we met for lunch.”
Amy picked up the hurt in Eloise’s voice. As best friends, nothing so important should happen between them that the other didn’t know about immediately. She’d been so tied in knots since the arrival of the note about St. Vincent’s activities that she hadn’t discussed the situation with anyone. Not even Aunt Margaret, with whom she shared just about everything.
“I apologize, Eloise. The whole thing was so very strange.”
Eloise tapped her foot. “I’m waiting.”
Amy stood and wandered the room, gathering her thoughts. Eloise twisted to watch her as she roamed the area. “I received a note—unsigned—stating that Mr. St Vincent was involved in the opium trade.”
Eloise joined her as Amy reached the window and leaned against the sill.
“That’s not good.”
“No,” Amy agreed.
“I can see why you would break your engagement, but surely it wasn’t worth killing him over?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Please. Must you be so dramatic? He returned a few days later—yesterday, in fact—for what purpose I don’t know, because he was dead before I saw him.”