“Yes,” said Byron. “Well, we’re trying to figure out who actually did it.”
“It seems to me there are a number of people who might want to kill a tavern wench.”
“She wasn’t a wench, though. She owned that place,” said Byron.
“As I just said,” said Mr. Crampton, still smiling. His smile seemed firm, in place despite of whatever he might be saying.
“Right, well, we’re trying to determine what exactly happened.”
“On the night in question, as I’m sure you’re already aware, I was at the tavern,” said Mr. Crampton.
“You were?” said Jane. He was quite ready to simply volunteer that? This man either was the most brazen of murderers or he was truly innocent.
“Yes,” said Mr. Crampton. “I did not visit there often, but I did like to go and have a night there from time to time. I saw you there, Byron.”
“Right,” said Byron.
“You don’t remember this either?” said Jane to Byron.
“No, I suppose I do,” said Byron.
“But you didn't think it was relevant to mention when we were talking about coming to see Mr. Crampton?”
“Apologies,” he said to her, a bit sharp.
She huffed.
“Why are you here to see me?” said Mr. Crampton.
“We are simply asking questions,” said Byron.
“I see,” said Mr. Crampton. “You think I did it. You think I murdered poor Anne.”
“Well, no,” said Byron, “because, you see, the murder was not intended to be—”
“I will say that I found her face down in her bed that night, and I thought she was only sleeping, and I tried to wake her, and I couldn’t.”
“You turned her over,” said Jane.
“More than that, I’m afraid. I may have undressed her,” said Mr. Crampton. “When she didn’t wake during that, and when I began to feel that her skin… it was… well, she wasn’t quite cold yet, but there was something wrong with the way she felt to my touch, and that was when I knew.”
“That she was dead?” said Jane.
“Yes.”
“So, you simply left her there?” said Jane.
“I drew back in horror, and I left in a hurry,” said Mr. Crampton. “It was not often, but there was an association between Anne and myself. We had been…” He looked Jane over. “Well, madam, if you are asking me about undressing her, can you stand to hear this?”
“You were her lover,” said Jane softly.
“That would be putting it a bit strongly,” said Mr. Crampton. “It was very occasional. But considering that, and considering the fact that I had spent so much time removing all of her clothes, I thought that people would think I had harmed her, so I left.”
“You didn’t tell anyone about it?” said Jane.
“What would have been the point of that?” said Mr. Crampton. “It wouldn’t have saved Anne. She was beyond saving. And it would only have made them likely to think that I had killed her. So, I stayed clear of it all. And yet, here you both are, having drawn this same conclusion I wished everyone would not have drawn. But the truth of it is, I did not harm her. I would not have. Our relationship was not the sort of relationship wherein there is much in the way of argument or strife. We didn’t do a lot of… talking, I suppose.”
Jane wondered that they had not heard about Mr. Crampton before. They’d been so preoccupied with Mr. Hardy and the window that this man, who had been intimately associated with Anne, even in the room that night, had gone entirely unnoticed. How many other people that night had they given no attention to?
