“While that is a very good idea, Mrs. Miles, I don’t think the author would have time to become involved in our affairs.”
Mrs. Miles nodded. “You are most likely correct. Although one thinks getting involved in a murder investigation could be quite …” She took a sip of tea and shook her head.
William shifted in his chair. One that Amy was certain he found uncomfortable. It looked like it could barely hold his weight, and if the cushion was as stiff as the one she was sitting on, there was no comfort to be had. “Mr. Miles is always so quiet when he attends our meetings. I didn’t realize he was also reading the books. I thought he only came as your escort.”
“Oh, yes. He is very interested in murder. He oftentimes reads about various murders in the newspaper and tells me how he would solve it. Or how he would commit such a crime and get away with it.” She actually looked proud, as though her son had been awarded a certificate in school for good deportment.
Amy was grateful she was not drinking her tea, or Mrs. Miles would have been covered in it. She refused to look at William because she doubted she could hold in her laugh at what Mrs. Miles had just said. It appeared their visit might be more beneficial with Mr. Miles not present.
“That is quite interesting, Mrs. Miles. Perhaps Mr. Miles should be writing murder-mystery books himself.”
The woman waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh, dear me, no. He is much too busy to be writing books.”
William cleared his throat and placed his cup on his saucer. “What is it your son does, Mrs. Miles? Is he employed?”
She looked confused for a minute. “Oh, dear
. I’m sure he must be. He is busy all the time, away from the house, but he pays all the bills and gives me money, so I imagine he is employed somewhere.”
They continued to visit for another twenty minutes, most of which was spent listening to Mrs. Miles speak of her various illnesses. Nothing further was said about Mr. Miles, so when their hostess took a much needed breath, Amy looked over at William and gave him a slight nod.
William pulled his timepiece from his vest pocket. “I’m afraid we have taken up too much of your time, Mrs. Miles.”
“Oh, no. Not at all. Please don’t feel as though you have to go.”
Amy stood and smoothed out her skirts. “Actually, I have another appointment myself, so I am afraid we must.”
“Well, please do come again. This was such fun!” Mrs. Miles stood and walked with them to the door, where William and Amy accepted their outer garments from the man stationed there.
“It has been a pleasure, Mrs. Miles.” William bowed over her hand. “We look forward to seeing you at the meeting Thursday evening.”
Mrs. Miles twittered. Actually twittered.
They took their leave and climbed into the waiting carriage.
* * *
Amy sat at her desk, her chin resting on her hand while she stared out the window. The visit with Mrs. Miles the day before had been quite enlightening. On the way home, she and William had discussed all they’d learned.
He planned to visit a couple of the men’s clubs, since it was certain Mr. Miles would belong to one or two of them. Anyone selling opium to those who could afford it had to be in places where he would find wealthy customers.
That left Amy with nothing to do while William did his part. That was annoying. What was truly vexing was that men had clubs where they could gather but women were not allowed. Women should start their own club and not allow men to visit. Except, she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach, most likely men would not want to enter a women’s club anyway.
What if she could sneak into a men’s club dressed as a man? Then she could ask questions about Harris and Miles herself!
She slumped. Stupid idea. She had no facial hair, her voice was too high, and a man’s suit of clothes would not disguise her figure, as William had pointed out the night they broke into Mr. Albright’s flat. Trying to resemble a man in the dark was much different than trying to pull that off where she could easily be seen.
Tired of just sitting and moping, and with no interest in continuing to plan her next book, she decided to take a nice long walk to the Roman Baths and enjoy a stroll around the Pump Room.
Since she lived only a few houses down, Amy sent a note around to Eloise to join her, then changed into her favorite light-yellow muslin with black-trimmed skirt and jacket. Her mood immediately improved. It was even warm enough that she could leave off an outer coat. She placed the matching yellow-and-black hat on her head and pulled on her black leather gloves.
She grinned at her reflection. She looked like a bumblebee. Yes, a stroll in the nice warm spring air would be just the thing. She could also ruminate on the case and see if there was something she’d forgotten.
Eloise arrived, in a hurry as usual. Her hat was askew, her hair falling down on one side, and she was out of breath. “Are we going to interview suspects?”
Amy laughed. “No. I am simply going to the Pump Room to get some air.”
“Oh.” Eloise sighed.