The attorney wrinkled his forehead. “A dead mouse. Why….?” His forehead cleared. “The wine. You think he was poisoned? But the knife….”
“I think nothing yet. I only know there was next to no blood from the stab wound and that Perrin died somehow.” I headed into the sitting room, almost tripping over Southey. I suspected much, but I didn’t need to alarm the whole household until we knew for certain. I stopped at the puddle by the sideboard. It had mostly dried, staining the wood beneath. I took Perrin’s amber wine decanter and poured a fresh glass. I sniffed.
“Well?” Mr. Evans asked.
“It smells like his normal foul wine.” I shrugged. “The wormwood would hide any other odor. Or taste.”
Southey sniffed at the puddle, and the attorney used his boot to prod him away. The terrier turned his attentions to my gown once more, taking the hem in his mouth and tugging.
“We need another animal to test it.” If someone had poisoned Perrin’s wine, it had been a wise choice. I knew of no one else who would dare try it.
A tearing sound made us both look down. Southey sat back on his haunches, a triangle of fabric hanging from one tooth.
Mr. Evans and I looked at each other. He hastily scooped up the dog and backed away. “I’ll look for another mouse. Make sure no one touches that wine.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes at the obvious order. I plopped down in a chair to wait. And wait. Apparently catching a mouse was a more difficult task than I had imagined. Finally, Mr. Evans returned, a small bit of brown fur in his hand. He rubbed his thumb softly over what I saw was the animal’s head. “Can you pour the wine into a saucer? It might drown if we dip it into the glass.”
I decided not to point out that there was a strong chance the mouse would be dying regardless and did as he asked.
Mr. Evans took the saucer and held it for the mouse to drink. It obliged, making me wonder if mice had any sense of taste.
“How long will this take?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I write contracts. I’ve never studied medicine.”
I sat back down. “It would have been better for Perrin if he’d invited his physician to this party instead of his solicitor.”
“I doubt his physician could have finalized the wedding contract, which was the reason why I was invited.” Mr. Evans kept stroking the small beast, trying to provide it comfort.
I studied the attorney’s face. His features were blunt, unrefined, but appealing in their way. If I had seen him on the street I would never have guessed law was his profession. “I was surprised when I heard Perrin might remarry. Miss Smith is quite young for him.”
He pursed his lips. “Not if he wanted more children. I’ve written contracts with larger age differences.”
“Was there anything unusual about this contract?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Aside from the fact it was unlikely to be signed? The earl angered the bride’s father, and I don’t believe Mr. Smith was amenable to a renegotiation.”
I scooted forward. “What did Perrin do?”
Mr. Evans hesitated.
“Your client is dead.” I waved him to the chair next to mine, tired of looking up so high. “Someone stuck a knife in his chest. We need to discover why.”
“When a magistrate comes—”
“It will be days.” I shouldn’t be annoyed. Mr. Evans didn’t know I had some experience at solving murders. He most likely thought me a nosy, old woman, not someone who could be of use. “And we are all stuck here together. The time for discretion is past.”
He sank down next to me, the mouse tucked against his chest, its nose twitching. “Perhaps you are right. Many people won’t be safe until we discover the killer.” He blew out a breath. “Your brother-in-law asked me to rewrite a term in the marriage contract. There was to be an exchange of land grants. Mr. Smith owns a parcel of land not too far from here. Used to be a mine, I believe, but it has some lovely coastline as well. As part of the contract, he was to trade that land for a section on the north of Perrin’s estate, one that produced an income. It turns out Perrin had already sold off that part of his estate. Perrin wanted me to change the contract and substitute another parcel of land. Of course, I had to tell Mr. Smith of the changes.”
“Of course.” Perrin had hired an honest attorney, a decision he most likely had regretted.
Evans scratched the mouse under the chin. “Well, Mr. Smith didn’t appreciate the attempt to deceive him. He said the wedding was off.”
There was a clatter of dishes in the dining room next door, the low murmur of voices as breakfast was set up.
“Perrin was always striving for his next deal.” I crossed my ankles and stared at the ceiling. “It doesn’t surprise me he ruined one deal by making another. Or that he angered Mr. Smith.”Perrin used to drive my husband mad with all the investment schemes he wanted Cavindish to invest in.
The attorney’s silence had me looking his way. “Do you know of other botched deals and angry associates?”
