He understood better why she did not have a husband.He got the sense that this was a woman who didn’t need a man to take care of her.If she invited a man into her life, it would be because she wanted him, not because she needed him.He leaned back in the chair and smiled.What would it be like to be the man she invited into her life?
She crossed her arms across her chest.“You are in my chair.”
“Ah, makes sense.Got a good view of the room.”He slowly stood but moved just far enough to prop one hip on the desk.He wouldn’t be so easily dismissed by her frown.
She glared for a moment.“There is a chair right over there.”
He glanced where she nodded at a chair on the other side of the desk.“I’m fine here.I need to speak with you.”
She slid into her chair with a sigh, then opened a drawer on the right side.Pulling out a stack of notes, she turned to the young man, Nigel, who stood a few feet away, waiting.“Here you are, Nigel.There is some good gossip in there.Verify and add the tidbits you think are worth printing.And I have one more for you.The Duke and Duchess of Hartwick are traveling to visit the newly married Marquess and Marchioness of Somerset at their country home in Kent.The Marquess and his wife are back from their honeymoon on the continent, and their friends are anxious to hear all about their travels.”
Nigel nodded.“Have you received any more tips about the murders?”
“No, I haven’t.I guess he was scared off.”She shrugged.
Nigel’s gaze slid over to Matthew.“I really enjoyed your masquerade, Mr.Reeves.Your club is actually quite nice.”The young man blushed.“Not that I thought it would not be nice…I just meant it was very well appointed for a den of iniquity.”His face flushed an even deeper red.
Matthew chuckled low.“Thank you.Nigel, is it?Come by anytime, and I will show you around.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.My mother would never allow it.”
“Nigel, why don’t you go get working on those tips,” Elizabeth said firmly.
The young man sent him an apologetic look and turned back to walk to his desk.Matthew caught the smallest curve of a smile on Miss Harper’s lips before she scooted her chair back, putting some space between them.“Mr.Reeves, what is it that you need to share so desperately?”
Besides his need to kiss those full lips again?Most likely, she wouldn’t be open to filling that need, at least not at her place of work.He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles.“I have been thinking about the other night.That hat is an anomaly.If the killer is a gentleman, what is he doing so far from Mayfair?Except then I realized that all the murders have taken place in the vicinity of gaming clubs.”
Ms.Harper’s eyes widened.
“The Termage is right next door to the Birdcage.”He held up a finger for each establishment.“Queen’s Head, the Blue Angel.And the Montague is across from the Green Door Tavern.”
“What about Red’s Tavern?”
“Red’s is famous for the cock- and dogfighting they have in the basement.Plenty of betting happens there.”
“I didn’t know that.”Her brow furrowed.“All gambling places.Interesting.Does he choose victims based on proximity?Whoever is nearby when he is done gaming for the evening?”
“Perhaps he is slumming it outside his fancy club.The fact that he would move around from place to place tells me he is done up.Perhaps even banned from certain places for having reached his limit of what he owes the house.”
“So, he is a man with a title.Someone who would normally be afforded credit.”
Matthew nodded.“Or he can play fresh again when his allowance comes in.And that damn hat.No thief would leave such a valuable hat in the street.It’s worth at least five quid at a pawnshop.”
“I shouldn’t have left it behind,” she murmured.
“I didn’t.Gave it to Big Ben.It looks good on his bald head.He loves the hat.Wore it to church on Sunday.”
Ms.Harper’s lips turned up into a real smile.“I’m glad.”She laced her fingers across her stomach.“I also have been thinking that the killer could be a gentleman.The garrote is a weapon that can kill without the mess of, say, a knife.There is no blood to splatter on expensive clothes.The garrote can easily be coiled and slipped into a pocket as you walk away from the crime.It is an elegant weapon.”
Matthew lowered his brow, thinking of his own terrible experience with a garrote.Elegant was hardly the word he would use.Brutal, personal.His hand rose to scrape down his throat, the rasp of his beard covering the old wound.“It is easily concealed, but there is nothing elegant about killing someone.To strangle a person, even someone smaller than you, takes strength.And the garrote can slice the skin depending on how you use it.”
“I hope your observations don’t come from personal experience, Mr.Reeves.”Miss Harper stared at him with those piercing, jade-colored eyes.
“It does, but not in the way you think.I have never strangled someone, if that’s what you feared.”
She leaned forward and opened the second drawer this time.“This tip was left in my box out front.”She handed him a folded piece of parchment.“It’s why I was at the Green Door the other night.The thing that caught my attention is the neat handwriting and correct speech.You see, most of the tips that I receive are from working-class folks.Often, the writing is barely legible, the sentences simple, straightforward.”
“I wondered what that box outside was for.”He read through the note.“Do they always ask for money?”
