The Sign of Death by Callie Hutton (children's books read aloud .TXT) 📗

need for either one of you to do any prying. You were lucky you weren’t killed last year, sticking your nose in police business.”

“Yet we handed the murderer over to you,” Amy snapped.

Marsh looked up from his pad and glowered at her. “Just as we identified the killer ourselves.” He waved his finger at her. “If we learn that you are nosing around again, I will notify your father to come and escort you to London.”

Amy bristled, and William quelled the urge to plant a facer on the detective. “If you are finished with your questioning, Lady Amy and I would like to leave.”

Carson nodded. “Just be sure to remain available for any further questions.”

William took Amy’s arm and held her elbow as they left the office and exited the building. The weather had turned cooler, and Amy shivered alongside him. He waved for his driver to pull up, and they climbed into the carriage.

“You appeared unconvinced when the detectives said they believed it was an accident.” Amy took the blanket he handed her from underneath the seat and wrapped it around herself. He was certain her chill was not just from the cold air but rather from her experience in the morgue.

William leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “James Harding was a teetotaler. He never imbibed. He once told me his father was a wastrel who spent a good portion of his income on strong spirits. I have never, in all the time I’ve known James, seen him take as much as a sip of wine.”

“How very interesting,” Amy said. She remained silent for a minute or so and then said, “Then it was no accident?”

William shook his head. “Not unless the man did a complete turnaround from the way he had previously lived his entire life.”

“Do you have any idea who would want him dead?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Aha! I heard a tiny niggling of doubt in that word.” She shifted in her seat and pulled the blanket up farther on her chin.

William stared out the window at the shops and shoppers as the carriage moved slowly through the traffic, carefully considering his words. “As I mentioned briefly before, of late I had a few concerns about James.”

“In what sense?”

He looked over at her. “I had reason to believe all was not right with my finances.”

“You think he was cheating you?”

“I hate to even say it out loud, since we worked together for a few years, but yes. I was beginning to believe money was disappearing.”

“What will you do?”

William leaned back and studied her. “James shared an office with Mr. Ernest Tibbs. He’s a barrister, who only recently moved into the space. I think I should go—”

“—we should go.”

He frowned at her. “I should go and tell Tibbs I am going to retrieve my files from Harding’s office. While I’m there—”

“—while we’re there.”

He sighed and continued. “I will of course retrieve my files, but I think a bit of browsing through all of Harding’s files might not be a bad idea. If he was purposely sent into that river, there must be someone who would benefit from that.”

She stared at him for a minute. “Do you honestly think we are about to involve ourselves in another murder investigation?”

William shook his head. “No.”

Amy’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe that was what you were suggesting.”

He cleared this throat. “We”—he waved his hand back and forth between them—“are not going to become involved in another murder investigation.”

“Now just a minute. If you think Mr. Harding was helped into that river and you believe I will stay out of it, you are mistaken, my lord.”

He raised his eyes to heaven. “One could only hope.”

The carriage slowed down as it arrived at Amy’s house. The driver opened the door and William stepped out. Turning toward Amy, he held his hand out. “I assume I may escort you to the Assembly tomorrow evening?”

“Yes. Of course.” She took his hand, and they climbed the steps together.

William placed his knuckle under Amy’s chin. “The police detectives were correct. We were lucky we did not get killed when we involved ourselves in St. Vincent’s murder.”

She shrugged. “I suppose.” Her eyes lit up. “Maybe we should get a gun.”

“No! No gun. I doubt very much that we will have to shoot our way out of a barrister’s office.”

With that, he bent forward as if to give her a kiss, but thinking better of it, he gave her a slight salute and hurried back down the steps. When he glanced out the carriage window, she was staring after him.

The Saturday night Assembly was the event of the week, with those who were in town from London joining the regular Bath citizenry. It was easy to pick out those from Town and those from Bath. The Londoners’ clothing was more sophisticated, more expensive, and more daring.

William and Amy joined the circle of friends from the book club who generally attended. Eloise, Mr. Davidson, Lord Temple, Mrs. Morton, and Miss Sterling stood in a circle discussing the upcoming book festival, which William noticed made Amy a bit uncomfortable. That is, if the way she gripped his arm was any indication. He would be black-and-blue in the morning.

“I’m so excited to finally meet Mr. Burton,” Miss Sterling gushed. “I just know he will be tall and handsome.”

Good lord, she sounded like a swooning young maiden, a status from which Miss Sterling was many years removed.

“Lady Amy, what do you suppose Mr. Burton looks like?” Mrs. Morton asked.

William choked down his laughter. “Yes, Lady Amy. Give us all your opinion. What do you suppose Mr. Burton looks like?” He grinned at her and bit his lip when she kicked his shin hard enough to cause a bruise.

He glanced down at her foot to see if she was wearing men’s boots.

“I can assure you, Mrs. Morton, that whatever anyone imagines Mr. Burton looks like, he will be nothing like that,” Amy said.

“Who cares what the man looks like?” Mr. Davidson, always the