It had just occurred to Amy that the reason for all the questions about other people, individuals whom they should have asked about long before now, was that they could not find absolute proof that Amy had killed St. Vincent and were finally considering other suspects. Surely she would have been dragged off to jail by now if they had proof.
Lacey entered the room with the tea cart. Since it appeared Amy and William would not be taking a stroll in the garden anytime soon, the maid had obviously made the correct decision and brought the tea to the drawing room.
Amy breathed a sigh of relief to have the questioning stopped for a bit. “Detectives, may I offer you tea?”
“No. But you go ahead,” Marsh said as he continued to write in his pad.
Despite it being poor manners, she really needed a cup of tea and some food. She was already beginning to feel light-headed. “I believe I will indulge.” She turned to William. “My lord?”
Carson snickered.
Amy regarded him with raised brows. “Is something wrong, Detective?”
“You toffs always get me. Every time we’ve come, the lad here is parked nice and cozy with you in this room. He stood alongside you when you found two dead bodies, and he was in the carriage with you when it went for a nasty spill. Yet you still address him as my lord.” He chuckled, and Amy considered throwing the teapot at the man’s head.
Unfortunately, the lovely pink-and-white-flowered china piece had been her mother’s and was Amy’s favorite, so she resisted the urge. Instead she smiled warmly. “It is called good manners, Detective. I am quite sorry you don’t recognize them.”
William choked on the tea he had just taken a sip of.
Some time after Amy served the tea, both detectives stood. They had also asked about Mr. Colbert, Lord Temple, and his daughter Lady Abigail. Each answer had been the same. Barely acquainted with Mr. St. Vincent.
“That is all for now. I understand the bloke your father hired to do his own investigation is under the weather.”
Amy patted her lips with the napkin. “Yes, Sir Holstein apparently ingested some bad food. He is no longer working for my father.”
Carson nodded. “Good.” He studied her and William with a piercing stare. “We don’t need anyone except the police investigating a murder.”
With a nod, they left the room, and Amy let out her breath. “I really do not like those men.”
William looked down at the paper he still clutched in his hand. “Now I can tell you what I tried to say before the detectives arrived.”
“What is that?”
“My driver asked the coach-maker when he arrived at our mews to inspect the carriage.” William opened the paper and stared down at it, then looked up at Amy.
“The spokes on the right rear wheel had been deliberately cut.”
CHAPTER 22
“Deliberately cut?” Amy’s jaw dropped as she stared at William and repeated his words. The wheel on the carriage they had been riding in had been damaged on purpose. In other words, someone had wanted her and William either seriously injured or dead.
Dead.
No more investigation if we are dead.
“I believe we are making the true murderer very nervous.” William shifted in his seat and winced. He obviously had hidden injuries on his body similar to her black-and-blue marks.
Slowly she recovered from the shock of his words. “So am I to assume you no longer believe that Miss Hemphill killed Mr. St. Vincent?” She certainly had not been convinced, but William and Aunt Margaret had wanted to believe. Or at least had wanted her to believe that was the case.
William adjusted again, apparently unable to get into a comfortable position. The poor man must have been hurting. “It appears not. Unless she arranged before her death to have someone cut the wheels on my carriage. That, however, is a bit of a stretch.”
Amy thought for a minute. “Do you think we should have shared that information with the police? They might stop looking so hard at me if they knew that.”
“Frankly, I wanted to speak with you about it first, since we have so little faith in their investigation. I could always make a visit to the police building.”
Amy took a sip of tea as she reviewed all the facts and information they had gathered thus far. “Perhaps we should hold off for a bit. They are now looking beyond me, it seems, with all the questions about Mr. St. Vincent’s friends and acquaintances. It gives us a bit of an edge in finding the murderer.”
“Or the murderer finding us, as it appears from the cut wheel.”