“I might have asked around a bit while waiting for you,” I said. “There was precious little else to talk about.”
Ryder snorted behind me.
“So a roughly three and a half hour window for him to be killed in.” Adams rubbed his jaw. “You don’t suspect poison was involved in this one, do you?”
“I do not.” I pointed at a bunching of fabric in Taylor’s jacket. “Can you check his pockets, see if he carries anything?”
Constable Adams did just that, slipping his fingers into the jacket’s pockets before unbuttoning it to expose the waistcoat. He pulled a broken bit of a lead pencil and two quid from those pockets.
“Was it all that you hoped for?” Ryder asked.
I glared back at him before pointing again at the body. “What of his hands? Do you see any scrapes or bruises to indicate he fought his attacker?”
Adams lifted one hand, then the other, each pale and pristine. “The only marks on him are the bruises on his face, which I presume Mr. Evans inflicted.” The constable’s shoulders rounded. “His killer might also have left some, but I don’t see how we’ll ever pick out which bruises came from where. I shouldhave stopped Mr. Evans when he hauled this man off. Now it’s only muddied the waters.”
“You couldn’t have known.” I patted the young man’s shoulder. “I’ll have a maid ready a room for you in case you want to stay the night.” By the time he questioned everyone in the house again, it could well be early morning.
Mr. Ryder followed me back into the sitting room. “Why do you take it upon yourself to investigate?” he asked in a low voice. “Constable Adams seems… competent.”
I chafed my hands together. A large fire had been built, and the heat of it warmed the room, removing some of the chill that clung to my gown. “He is young and inexperienced. And we are staying in the house with someone who has killed two people.” At least, I hoped it was one person who had killed two people and not two separate murderers. “I believe it behooves us all to discover who has done this as quickly as possible.”
Mr. Ryder sighed. “There are others—”
“Men, you mean.”
He dipped his chin and studied me. The feeling wasn’t quite pleasant. Taking a step closer so no one would overhear, he said, “It isn’t wrong, the impulse society has to protect the fairer sex from unpleasantness. From harm.”
“No.” It wasn’t wrong. I enjoyed a chivalrous act as much as any woman. “But sometimes men’s idea of protection is to keep women coddled, unaware of the hazards life presents, which only puts us more in danger. And some women aren’t as delicate as you seem to think.”
He looked like he had more to say on the subject. As I didn’t want to hear it, I inclined my head and went over to where Mr. Evans and Miss Smith stood huddled together. The attorney had planted himself firmly between Miss Smith and everyone else in the room, essentially becoming a barrier between her and the other guests. One of whom had killed again.
Miss Smith, at least, appeared to appreciate the attorney’s protective impulse.
I exhaled through my nose. I already knew I was a bit different from most women. I’d accepted it. “We should talk,” I said to them.
Mr. Evans looked at the rest of the room. No one appeared to be watching them, but he still lowered his voice. “Now?”
“No, after the next person is murdered.” Perhaps he didn’t deserve the edge in my voice, but I was too frustrated to hide it.
Miss Smith laid her hand at the base of her throat. “You think there will be another?”
Mr. Evans frowned at me, and I relented. “Most likely not, but I still think we need to discuss what we know. Let’s go to the library.”
We filed out. The empty grate almost made me regret my decision to leave the sitting room. I tugged my shawl higher on my shoulders. “Now. Each of you tell me what you did and saw from noon today until you found the body, Miss Smith.”
Mr. Evans went to the fireplace. He added some coal from the bucket and picked the flint up from the mantel. “I went to Perrin’s office to read through more of his files. Then I went to lunch. After, I joined the group in the sitting room.”
Miss Smith wandered to the window. In the gathering dark, there wasn’t much to see outside, yet she still stared. “Much the same. I went to my room before luncheon, then the sitting room after. I saw Mr. Taylor briefly when I first came back from the shooting field. I thought he was headed to his room, as well.”
Mr. Evans kindled the fire, and I took a chair near the warmth. I pressed the tip of my walking stick into the thick rug. “It’s Katherine, yes? May I call you Katherine?”
At the woman’s nod, I continued. “What took you outside to find Mr. Taylor’s body?”
“The dog.” Katherine rubbed her arms. “He needed to go out, and he found Mr. Taylor.”
The dog. I checked my ankles, surprised he wasn’t nipping at them now. Someone must have trapped him down in the kitchens.
“And neither of you noticed anything strange?” I asked. “Did Mr. Taylor say anything to you after you and he…talked, Henry?”
