Iswirled thebrandy in my glass, watching its honeyed droplets cling to the sides. I’d told Eleanor that the liquor wouldn’t help her, but I didn’t see why I shouldn’t partake.
Eleanor’s mother had been arrested, a woman I knew in my heart didn’t commit the crime. Any hope for a happy ending between Eleanor and Frederick seemed lost. And as for my own happy ending….
I glared at the ledgers. Over thirty percent of my members hadn’t paid their dues this month. It was no longer speculative. I was bleeding membership. Revenue was down just as my expenses had skyrocketed with the fire repairs. I could keep the club running with my personal funds, but I hadn’t wanted this to be a hobby. I’d wanted to succeed with a profitable business.
I stared into my brandy again, too morose to even drink it. We didn’t always get what we wanted. At my age, I would have thought I’d have learned that lesson by now.
Perhaps it was time to ask for help. My nephew would be only too happy to provide it. He had real investigators who could uncover the truth. If I hadn’t let my pride hold my tongue from asking him for assistance, how different the situation might be. The true killer might now be in custody. Mrs. Lynton would be safe at home. And I might not be losing members like a drunkard loses his last coin at the pub.
Bobby knocked on my open door. “That blighter Rollins is here. I told him—Oi!”
There was a scuffle, pushing back and forth, until Rollins ducked under Bobby’s arm and sprang into my office. “I need to see you, and your servants are being most inhospitable today.”
My lips curved. I couldn’t imagine Eleanor unburdening her heart to Bobby or the others, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t heard just the same. Even closed doors weren’t much of a barrier to the inquisitiveness of my servants. Apparently, they had taken sides, and it wasn’t Mr. Rollins’s.
“You arrested Mrs. Lynton,” I stated.
Rollins adjusted his cravat. “I did.”
Bobby grabbed the back of his coat and tugged him toward the door. “You made Miss Lynton sad. I don’t like seeing her sad.”
I had to agree. But when Rollins twisted, his fist pulled back and ready to bloody Bobby’s face, I spoke up. “Bobby, it’s all right. Leave him be. I’d like to hear what he has to say for himself.”
Bobby grumbled but released Rollins’s coat. He leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms. “Fine.”
“This conversation is private,” Rollins informed him, before grabbing the door and shutting it in Bobby’s face.
“I think you’ll find not much around here remains private.” I watched as Rollins straightened his cravat while marching back and forth. My office wasn’t large enough for such serious pacing. “Well?” I said, tiring on his behalf. “What have you to say? You can’t honestly believe Mrs. Lynton killed Lady Richford and her son.”
“Of course, I believe it.” He gave me a disgruntled look. “I wouldn’t have arrested her if I didn’t.”
True enough. “What finally convinced you?”
“The handwriting samples. The killer tried to destroy one of her letters that Bannister had.” He punched one fist into the other hand. “Miss Abbott told me Lady Richford had athreatening letter from Mrs. Lynton. Bannister must have gotten ahold of it, probably the same time he took that sack of items his mother had blackmailed from her victims. He contacted Mrs. Lynton. To blackmail her, accuse her, I don’t know. But it only makes sense if she went to confront Bannister, killed him, and tried to destroy any evidence implicating her.”
I sniffed. “She didn’t do a very good job of it.”
Rollins twisted his mouth but continued with his case. “She has shown hints of violence. Eleanor knows this. She just doesn’t want to believe it.”
“What hints of violence?” I had seen no such thing, but it would explain why Eleanor had been so desperate to have her mother’s club membership revoked.
Rollins stopped. He planted his hands on his hips and sucked in a deep breath. “You would need to ask Eleanor about those. The magistrate won’t need to know about that to make his case,” he muttered to himself.
“Her servants give her an alibi,” I reminded him.
The look he gave me was full of derision, and it was well deserved. The word of the people one pays could hardly be considered reliable.
“Her mind is becoming fractured.” Rollins gripped the back of his neck. “Perhaps the judge will take that into account.”
I tapped my fingers on the desk. The memory of how we’d found Lady Richford’s body rose to my mind. That image was never very far. “It wasn’t a fractured mind that devised these killings. Nor a fractured mind that had the sense to escape without detection. A vicious one, yes, but not fractured.”
Rollins shook his head. “It all fits,” he repeated.
“What of this letter Miss Abbott told you about? Where was it?”
“Lady Richford had a secret compartment in her writing desk that I didn’t find.” He narrowed his eyes. “Apparently theviscountess showed her friend Mrs. Lynton’s letter and they had a grand laugh about it. I’ve sent a note to Lord Richford asking for access to his townhouse here in London to see what else she kept in that secret drawer, but it hardly matters at this point.”
He flexed his fingers. “Have you seen Eleanor? How is she doing?”
