“Bad day?”
Her aunt smiled. “No, actually a very good day.”
Amy’s brows rose. “Indeed. Are you going to share it with us?”
Aunt took the glass from William. “Yes. But not today.” She walked to a comfortable red-and-white-striped chair next to the fireplace and sat. “What have you two been up to?”
Amy gave her a shortened version of Miss Hemphill’s demise, the odd landlady, the hysterical maid, and the same two detectives who had again invaded her life.
“The same two detectives? That is quite a coincidence.”
“Coincidence or bad luck,” William said. “I just hope we don’t have any trouble getting a copy of the autopsy report. Given the poor state of Miss Hemphill’s room and sudden demise, I think this might have a connection to Mr. St. Vincent’s death.”
“’Twould be quite odd if it didn’t, considering she was supposed to marry him, then got tossed aside for Amy. Then we find out she was pregnant.”
“And I don’t believe in coincidence.” William downed the last of his brandy, then stood. “I will make a visit to my club to see if I can gather more information on either Mr. Miles or Mr. Harris. They are still in my sight as suspects.”
“Milady, a messenger has just delivered a letter for you.” Lacey held out the envelope toward Amy.
Amy took it from her hand and looked at it, all the blood in her head racing to her feet, leaving her light-headed.
“Amy, what is it?” Aunt Margaret moved to her side. “You have gone quite pale.”
Amy looked up at William and Aunt Margaret. “This letter is in the very same handwriting of the person who wrote to me about Mr. St. Vincent’s drug dealing.”
CHAPTER 20
Amy reread the few terse words on the letter she’d received days before.
Dear Lady Amy,
Please forgive me.
Miss Eva Hemphill
The note certainly confirmed her suspicions about the anonymous note with the information about Mr. St. Vincent’s illegal and nefarious activities. Same handwriting, same author.
Aunt Margaret and William were both of the mind that the note was Miss Hemphill’s confession to the murder. By killing S
t. Vincent, they’d argued, Miss Hemphill had removed Amy’s chance of marriage.
The confirmation of the removal of Miss Hemphill from her family’s home had been uncovered by Aunt Margaret, who had spoken to one of her friends who had a maid related to a servant in the Hemphill household.
In any event, the entire situation was still a mess as far as Amy was concerned. William and Aunt Margaret might be convinced of Miss Hemphill’s guilt, but she was not. As far as what the police believed, Amy had no idea, since she hadn’t, surprisingly enough, heard from her favorite detectives since the day Miss Hemphill had been found.
That had been almost a week ago, since it was now Saturday, and she once again awaited William’s arrival so he could escort her to the Assembly Rooms. That morning he’d sent around a note saying he was going to be able to get a copy of Miss Hemphill’s autopsy report and would bring it with him that night when he picked her up.
What puzzled her more than anything was the lack of visits from the two Bath police department detectives. Did they believe, as William and Aunt Margaret optimistically did, that the matter was closed, and that Miss Hemphill had murdered Mr. St. Vincent? Amy was quite certain that if that were the case, they would have told her. After all, she’d been in the spotlight of their investigation from the day she had stumbled over Mr. St. Vincent in the library.
Truth be known, the murder-mystery author in her continued to cry no. Why would Miss Hemphill kill the father of her child? What chance would she have of redeeming her name if he was dead? On the other hand, crimes of passion were generally not committed by those in their right mind at the time.
She sighed and folded up the well-worn note. Assuming the police would do a follow-up visit to her, since they’d been so tickled to find her at the scene of another death, she had decided to show them the note once they arrived.
They hadn’t arrived.
She still had the note.
And she felt the murderer was still out there.