“Mr. Harding was my man of business for three years. We worked well together. Why my files were not in his office is as much of a puzzle to me as it is to you.”
Marsh licked his pencil again and flipped the page. Carson continued. “Yet Mr. Tibbs, who shares the space with Mr. Harding, told us you and her ladyship here visited the office and indicated you were going to fetch your files. Is that true?”
William hesitated, then decided that giving a little information to the police might look like cooperation and get the detectives to leave them alone so he and Amy could solve the puzzle. He had more at stake than just Harding’s murder. He needed to find out how far into deception Harding had been. And how much of his money was gone. “Yes, Detective. We did visit the office with the intention of retrieving my files—”
“This is a police investigation! You had no right to interfere and remove possible evidence.”
“Ah. It was not a police matter when we visited Harding’s office. If memory serves, you indicated when we identified Mr. Harding’s body that you deemed it an accidental drowning.”
Carson switched his attention to Amy. “My lady, can you vouch for your cohort here that his file was not among those in Mr. Harding’s office?”
Amy nodded. “Yes, Detective. There was no file among those in the office of Mr. Harding that had his lordship’s name on it.”
Carson studied her for a while, no doubt replaying her words in his head to see if he was missing something in the way she had worded her answer.
The detective leaned back. “I have a few more questions.”
William nodded.
“Did Harding have any enemies?”
William’s brows rose almost to his hairline. “Clearly, since this has turned into a murder investigation, Detective.”
Carson flushed and growled, “Any that you can name?”
He thought about DuBois, but further questions from Carson about the man would reveal where they’d gotten his name. William still hadn’t decided yet what he would do with that information. Tracking the man down didn’t seem to serve his purpose and would only put him and Amy in danger. DuBois might be on their—very short—list of suspects, but William would hold tight to that information for now. Unless the police charged him with the murder, there was no hurry to solve this mystery. He still wanted to find out how his man of business had been cheating him and at least one other client and how much Harding had pilfered from his own funds.
“How well did you know the deceased?” the detective asked Amy.
“Not at all, Detective. I heard his lordship speak of the man on occasion, but I never met him or had anything to do with him.”
“He didn’t handle your finances?”
“No. I believe I told you at our last encounter that he was not my man of business, that my brother handles all my family’s finances. I know nothing about our money.”
“Except how to spend it, no doubt,” the detective mumbled.
William felt his face flush. “Detective, I see no reason for this line of questioning. If you have some sort of charge you wish to advise us of, I will be more than happy to have my barrister accompany us at another time.” He stood and grasped Amy’s elbow. “Other than that, I feel we have spent enough time answering your nonquestions.”
Both detectives stood. “Now wait just a minute, your lordship. I have no further questions—at this time—but I will advise the two of you to remain in Bath, notify us of any plans to leave the city, and most of all do not involve yourselves in another police matter.”
Rather than arguing that there was little reason for the detective to order them to remain in Bath, William decided a quick exit was in their best interest. If he lingered much longer, he might very well be rightly charged with assaulting an officer of the law.
He nodded. “If that is all you have to say, we will leave now and wish you a good day.” With determined strides, he moved to the door, opened it, and escorted Amy—a bit enthusiastically, perhaps—from the building.
A mere five hours later Amy sat in her drawing room, awaiting William’s arrival once again. He was escorting her to the book club gathering this evening. He had sent around a note to alert her that his mother had decided she wanted to go with them to the meeting.
Amy had laughed out loud when she read it. She could almost hear him saying the curt words, and the sound was not a pleasant one.
She started when the front door opened but was surprised to see Aunt Margaret sail through the drawing room doorway, removing her gloves. “Amy, dear! I am so glad to be home.”
“Aunt Margaret. I thought you were to be gone another three days.” Amy hurried to her aunt’s side and kissed her cheek.
“Yes. I was supposed to be gone longer, but the visit became, shall we say, troublesome?”
“Pray tell,” Amy said, taking her seat on the sofa again. Aunt Margaret sat down next to her.
“Devon and Mary Woods are a wonderful couple. How such wonderful, kind, thoughtful, caring, and loving people could produce such horrid children is beyond me.”
“Oh dear.” Amy smiled.
“Oh dear is correct. The little monsters put a snake—nonpoisonous, thank goodness—in my luggage. When I went to reach for my underthings, the creature snapped at me! I thought I would have a heart attack.”
“Did you tell Mary?”
“Not the first time.”
Amy’s brows rose in surprise. “There were others?”
“With the snake? Of course. Then the urchins spread rice on the wooden floor in the bedchamber I was assigned, and in the dark I didn’t see it until I slid and fell—quite hard, actually—on my bum.”
“Did you tell Mary about that?”
“No. Then the little darlings switched the sugar with salt. I didn’t have to tell Mary about that, because
