“And you are sure he was murdered?” Alex asked.
“Yes. I saw him lying dead, also a hand holding a bloodstained knife. But seeing him with blood all over his chest would have alerted me,” Ellen said.
“Yet more visions for you to live with, sister dear,” Alex said.
“I’m all right, and it is no different for any of us.”
“Some see more than others,” Leo said. “Now tell us what you are hiding and what you have seen inside that pretty head of yours.”
Ellen shot Mungo a look. He nodded.
“I found Uncle Bram’s knife under George’s body.”
“We think it’s his,” Mungo amended. Pulling it from his waistband, he lowered it to the table before them, now clean of blood, next to the tea tray. It seemed more sinister in the room’s light.
“It certainly looks like the one Uncle Bram brought back with him from his travels,” Alex added.
“It was covered in blood under the body,” Ellen said.
The Nightingales had suffered a lot in their lives since the death of their father and the disgrace that followed. The society they’d coveted had turned their collective backs on the children of the late perfidious Lord Seddon. They had been left grieving and alone.
It had been their father’s younger brother, Bramstone, and his wife, Ivy, who had stepped in to support them. After removing them from London, he and Aunt Ivy had taken them to the country to heal. Only when he believed they were strong enough, did he return them to London, and this house.
“Ellen, it will be all right, as will Uncle Bram.” Leo put an arm around her, sensing her worry. “No one but us knows about the knife, and we will keep it that way. With our talents, we will ensure he is not found guilty.”
Ellen sniffed and pressed her face into her brother’s chest. They would do what must be done, no matter the consequences. They were not called the Notorious Nightingales for nothing.
CHAPTERFOUR
Gray walked along Crabbett Close four mornings after meeting Ellen Nightingale. That night had been foggy, but his first impression of her had been clear. Beautiful and feisty. After some preliminary investigating of the case, he was now ready to speak with her again.
The anticipation he felt surprised him. Gray rarely got excited about anything, but he wanted to see her in the light of day. See if he’d imagined her beauty or if it had been a figment of a fog-shrouded night. But it was more than just her face that intrigued him. It was rare that a woman challenged him as she had.
Crabbett Close had a mix of homes. Some connected behind an iron fence that ran their length. Then there were the larger ones, like he was sure the Nightingale family lived in. The street looped at the end and circled a large park. Trees lined it on the side he walked, and through them he could see a handful of children playing.
“Good day to you, Detective Fletcher. What has you in Crabbett Close again?”
“Good day to you, Miss Alvin.” Gray tipped his hat to the elderly lady who was sitting on her doorstep in a rocking chair. She was wrapped in layers of shawls, and on her head was a tattered nightcap, or so he thought it was, as his mother had worn something similar. His guess was it was once white, but now it was gray and the lace torn around the edges.
“You’ll not be after our Nightingales, is my hope? We don’t like people who harangue them. They’re good folk.”
Behind her, the front door was open, and he saw the hall was lined with things, but Gray could not make out what.
“I make it a daily goal never to harangue anyone unless absolutely necessary, Miss Alvin,” he said with as much gravity as he could muster.
When he’d knocked on Miss Alvin’s door two days ago to make enquiries, she told him he needed to mind his business and that the Nightingales were wonderful people. She’d then shut the door in his face, so he’d not even been able to question her about George Nicholson.
“I know about you,” she said, glaring at him out of rheumy eyes.
“Do not revile the king even in your thoughts or curse the rich in your bedroom because a bird in the sky may carry your words, and a bird on the wing may report what you say” came a voice from inside the house.
“Aye, Mr. Alvin, you’ve the right of it,” Miss Alvin called to her brother, who was presumably nearby.
“I have no idea what that means,” Gray said.
“It means a bird told me, and you should know that being one of them detectives,” she hissed. “You need to read the bible and Ecclesiastes 10:20 specifically. Now off with you and leave our Nightingales alone.”
“I mean them no harm.”
