Comfortable? Henry shifted in his chair at the word. “I don’t think extreme fasting and hydropathy would have made him more comfortable.”
“And that would be considered conjecture in court,” Mr. Barnes said with a condescending smile.
“I beg to differ,” Henry countered, working to keep his temper level. Mr. Barnes was not proving helpful thus far. “How often do clients make sudden changes to their will within weeks of their death?”
The solicitor’s gaze shifted around the room as if he were considering how to answer. “Not often, though those who are ill for periods of time occasionally do.”
Henry tucked the information away to consider later. “Did Mr. Dunn often donate to charitable endeavors?”
The question had Mr. Barnes pausing for a long moment. “Well. Not to my knowledge.”
“One might even think it out of character for him, wouldn’t you say?” Henry suggested politely.
“Perhaps,” the solicitor agreed reluctantly. “Though it’s not illegal, Inspector, for someone to change their mind. My clients often do so.”
“Do you believe the late Mr. Dunn was of sound mind and body, considering the rather harsh treatments the sanatorium offers?”
“He was under professional medical supervision.” The man placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, leveling Henrywith a glare. “And there is no evidence that suggests he wasn’t of sound mind.”
“Not yet.” Though perhaps unprofessional, Henry rather hoped he was right just so he could prove the annoying Mr. Barnes wrong. The solicitor was being obstinate.
With a scowl he quickly hid, the solicitor leaned back in his chair. “Surely the Metropolitan Police have better things to concern themselves with than the expected death of a man who suffered from cancer, and the complaint of a disgruntled nephew who hoped to inherit?”
“Nowthatsounds like conjecture.” Henry stood. No assistance would be found here. “Thank you for your time.”
“Of course.” Mr. Barnes also rose, forced to look up to meet Henry’s gaze due to his small stature. “Happy to help.”
Henry nearly scoffed as he turned away since the man had been anything but, only to turn back. “You know, I find myself curious about something.”
“Oh? And what might that be?” The solicitor tugged on the bottom of his jacket.
“Have you other clients who spent time at Hollowgate Heights?”
Mr. Barnes stilled before placing his fingers on his desk. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to answer such a question.”
That was an answer in itself. “How well acquainted are you with Dr. Thorne?”
He hesitated a moment too long before lifting a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug as if the answer were of no consequence. “We’ve been introduced. Socially. Why?”
“As I said, just curious.” Henry dipped his head. “I’ll be back in touch soon.” Of that he was certain, but first he needed a few more answers.
Henry returned to Scotland Yard and wrote a brief note in the case file about the solicitor, leaving out his suspicions for the time being.Conjecture.However, he was curious about the nature of Mr. Barnes’s relationship with Dr. Thorne and wanted to learn more.
More paperwork, more evidence, more suspects. A possible lead arose in the jewelry theft thanks to the pawnshops and he requested a constable follow up on it, then reviewed another case he’d been assigned. There was always another case.
Yet his thoughts continued to circle around Walter Dunn, trying to imagine what would make the man change his will. He hoped Fletcher discovered something from the man’s friends, especially what his relationship with his nephew had been.
The quiet of the Yard suggested the day was near an end and his pocket watch confirmed it. Soon those working the night shift would arrive and the bustle would resume. He tidied his desk, eager for dinner with Amelia. The idea of telling her the depth of his feelings—that he loved her—had been simmering within him for weeks.
The time had come to act on it. That meant the evening needed to be special.
Henry gathered his things and headed for the door, wanting to make one stop before returning to his lodging house to change for dinner. He nearly caught himself whistling as he walked, his spirits high at the thought of the evening ahead. While he didn’t know what Amelia’s reaction would be to hisdeclaration, he hoped she reciprocated his feelings, even if only in part.
A whisper of guilt, followed quickly by doubt, nudged him. Hadn’t he promised not to press her for more than she was ready to give? By telling her of his feelings, wouldn’t he be doing just that?
He shrugged away the worry. If she wasn’t ready to share her feelings, she would say so. She had never lied to him yet. And if that were the case, he hoped she would take his declaration for the gift it was.
A deep breath did little to settle his nerves. Despite them, he would proceed with his plan.
