So that’s what it was! A purr. “You mean this is a sound of . . . cat contentment?”
She nodded happily. “Indeed it is. Contentment of the highest order. You may never get Lover Boy to leave your lap.”
Not at all what he wished to hear.
When he stopped his stiff-handed petting, the cat’s eyes opened, and to Appleton’s astonishment, the cat’s paw went softly to his hand as if to urge him to pet him some more.
Perhaps Appleton had underestimated the beast’s intelligence after all.
“He wants you to resume petting him,” Dot said.
“I realize that.” He reluctantly started stroking the soft pelt.
Appleton was quite certain the beast had concocted a plot to torment him for his lack of affection. Damned animal.
“We are fortunate that it’s another sunny day to aid in our quest.”
“But are you not forgetting that we are handicapped by several other factors, the first being that we have no idea where the murder was committed?”
“I realize we don’t know where it was committed, but we can make hypotheses.”
How did a woman know about hypotheses? Scientific method was out of the realm of what was taught to young ladies. As smart as Annie was, he was almost certain she would have no knowledge of that word. “And what is your hypothesis?”
“We are almost certain she was to meet her murderer before she went to work the night of her death. Correct?”
He nodded.
“Wouldn’t it be a good assumption that the meeting might have taken place between her lodgings and Mrs. Starr’s establishment?”
He had to agree.
“And,” she continued, “since we know he dumped her body in the river, would it not make sense that the crime must have been committed near the banks of the river? He could hardly be seen carrying a dead body around the city.”
“You do have a valid point.”
“But you don’t sound convinced.”
“Oh, I’m fairly convinced. It’s just that nearly two weeks have passed. We had three straight days of unrelenting rain—not to mention that if the murderer realized he might have left something that was potentially incriminating, he’s had ample time to retrieve it.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “There’s merit to what you’ve pointed out, but I still think we should make every effort to investigate.”
“There’s one more consideration. The Avon is a very long river.” He sighed. “But I suppose we should start somewhere.”
“I agree.”
Appleton would be most happy to get this animal off his lap. A pity Digby wasn’t here to brush the cat hair off his breeches.
As he and Dot walked along the pavement toward the city center, he mused about their mission. While he gave it little chance for success, he did concede it was a good day for a walk, the warmest yet in a cool autumn.
A scattering of trees throughout the city were shedding their leaves of rust and gold. How sad that Ellie wasn’t alive to witness the transformation of summer to winter.
He hoped to God they would be able to identify the person responsible for her death. No one deserved to die more than the despicable fiend who’d murdered her.
But he mustn’t dwell on her death. It wouldn’t bring her back. His energies would be better directed at finding her killer. “How, my dear Dot, do you propose to walk along the River Avon when much of its frontage is across people’s private property?
“I can’t think of everything. I’m relying on you to determine how we’re to examine as much riverside as possible. You’re the man. And a lord, too. Who can deny you?”
He chuckled—though he had to reluctantly admit there was some truth to what she said. People were always intimidated by titles of nobility. It had been his experience that oftentimes he met with inordinate success merely by mentioning his title. “You would agree, would you not, that she had to have gone into the water north of the Pulteney Bridge?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then I suggest we just start walking along the river, on its west side, of course.”
She nodded.
That’s what they did as soon as they reached the distinctive bridge. The area near where the river bank and the Pulteney Bridge converged was highly populated. “This could not possibly be the scene of the murder,” she said.
“I agree. He would have to have selected a more remote location for his dirty deed.” It was the dirtiest deed that could possibly be committed.
During the next half hour’s walk, the riverbank was surrounded by fairly dense population, most of which looked to be private houses. At any moment he expected someone to shout at them for infringing on property, but to his surprise, they didn’t see a single soul.
He was telling Dot about the dogs he kept at Hawthorne Manor—in answer to her questions—when he saw something that caused him to pause. That is where the murder occurred.
He eyed an ancient church—more of a chapel, really. Could Sunday service still be held there? The old church’s stones had become black with age, and it was so small, he doubted more than two dozen worshippers would be able to gather within its walls.
Who would be here on a weekday night? He felt almost certain the murderer would have asked Ellie to meet him here under the cover of darkness.
Then he would have murdered her. No one would have been around to see him lug her body and toss it into the nearby river.
Dot clutched his forearm. “That’s got to be it!”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“They can’t still be worshipping here,” she said as they came closer to the old church. “The place looks as if it hasn’t been used in years.”
“More like centuries.”
When they reached it, he tried the weathered timber door, not expecting it to be unlocked. It opened, its hinges groaning from disuse. They both stood inside the musty vestibule for a moment as their vision adjusted to the darkness, and then they strolled into the tiny church.
Dot ran a gloved hand over the back of the last pew. It left
