“Was anyone else on duty that night?”Adrian asked.
Father Elias plodded between the pews, collecting the hymn books left behind from his last sermon.“I was the last to depart.After locking the vestry at seven, I made a quick round just to be sure the church was empty.Finding it so, I left.”
“So no one was here at a later hour?Between ten and eleven?”
“Not as far as I know.”Father Elias turned to Adrian and told him bluntly, “I already said as much to the constable charged with investigating that poor woman’s death.”
“I merely hoped you might have recalled something else in the days since.”When the vicar gave no indication that this was the case, Adrian thanked him for his time and departed.
He stopped on the pavement in front of his carriage and swept the street with his gaze.There were townhouses here, more modest in nature than what he was used to, but homes nonetheless, whose residents would have been comfortably hidden away indoors while his poor sister succumbed a short distance away.
“Wait here,” Adrian called to his driver before crossing the street.
No one answered the door at the first two addresses.At the third, fourth, and fifth, he was met by solemn head-shakes as each person claimed to have seen and heard nothing.They’d been asleep at that hour.
But the young man he met at the sixth house provided him with additional information.
“I was heading home from The Fox’s Burrow that night,” the man, whose name turned out to be Adams, told him.“Must have been just before eleven because the clock in the hallway struck the hour right as I entered.I came from that direction, see?Had just turned the corner when a man came striding toward me.”
“Did you happen to see if he’d come from the graveyard?”
“No.”Adams’s expression turned thoughtful.“He might have, I suppose.The entrance wasn’t far behind him, but I can’t say for sure.”
Even if the man Adams had seen wasn’t the killer, it might be another witness, and as such, Adrian wanted to find him.“Can you recall his appearance?”
“I only caught a brief glimpse in the dark.”Adams frowned.“He was roughly my height, but I can’t say anything about his features or coloring.”
“Of course not,” Adrian murmured while disappointment dampened his spirits.He thanked Mr.Adams, gave him his card in case he recalled anything else, and turned to leave.
“There was something of note,” Adams said before Adrian took one more step.
“Yes?”
“He produced a crunching sound.”
“A crunching sound?”
“As though he were chewing something hard, like a sugar glass treat.”Adams offered the barest hint of a smile and shrugged one shoulder.“I’m not sure it helps.”
“It very well might,” Adrian said and promptly handed the young man a five-pound note before thanking him once again for his help and returning to his carriage.
The sugar glass treat was inconsequential right now, but Adrian knew it had every possibility of becoming a valuable piece of evidence later.So he tucked it away in the mental archive he’d started creating when he’d found the button, and set his next course forThe Morning Post’s offices.
“Mr.Croft,” he informed the clerk when the young man asked for his name.He produced his calling card for good measure.“I wish to speak with Mr.Abernathy at once.”
“Do you have an appointment?”the clerk inquired, scrutinizing the sharp black lettering that formed Adrian’s full name.
“No.”
The clerk raised his gaze to Adrian’s.“As I’m sure you can understand, Mr.Abernathy is a busy man.I’ll see if he’s available.”
“He will be,” Adrian said, hardening the look in his near-black eyes, “if he wants to keep his position as chief editor of this paper.”
“Are you blackmail—”
“Just tell him I’m here.”
The clerk backed up a step.His brow started to glisten and yet, he still looked on the verge of arguing further before he thought better of it and hastened away.
