What I’m being blackmailed for I had no control over.
The words kept repeating in her mind. If Amy could find out why the two women were being blackmailed, it might help in their investigation. Especially now that someone had the records and knew their secrets.
“God bless you,” Mrs. Burrows said, as Amy opened the door, the light tinkle of the bell ringing in her ears.
After a slight pause, Amy said, “Mrs. Burrows, do you by chance know a Miss Gertrude O’Neill?”
Mrs. Burrows’s eyes grew wide. “Gertie? Oh goodness, don’t tell me she’s being blackmailed too.”
William rose in the morning with a sense of excitement, feeling that very shortly something great would happen in their investigation. The ride he’d taken the day before on Major had done a lot to clear his mind. He’d purposely avoided places he would meet people he knew, as he wanted time to think and see if he could make sense of what they had so far.
His first order of business after his valet shaved and prepared him for the day was a hearty breakfast to begin what he hoped would be the last of the investigation into Harding’s death.
The clue he’d received from his own mother that Patrick Whitney was an actor, and a fine one at that, had immediately given him hope that the illness and grieving Patrick had presented were an act, merely his way of giving himself an alibi for when Harding was killed.
His acting might also have been a way for him to pass himself off as a messenger or some other sort of daily worker in order to gain access to his house and Amy’s house.
William hated to think so, but it was conceivable that Patrick had killed Mrs. Johnson also, if he’d thought she was going to hinder his alibi. He must have been one of the people sitting in the corner at the pub the night he and Amy visited and Mrs. Johnson told them to meet her the next day.
It was possible that Patrick had indeed been enraged at the thievery committed by Harding with his stepmother’s trust. However, since he was friends with Mrs. Johnson, it wouldn’t have been too difficult for him to learn about Harding’s other nefarious activities and his habit of collecting from his victims at the King’s Garden. Kill the man; step into his shoes as a blackmailer. To do that, he would have needed to get his hands on the ledger.
If what William had begun to put together was true, it would have been Patrick who broke into Harding’s home before them and attempted to steal the ledger, then shot at them.
William greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek and took a seat across from her. “You are looking lovely this morning.” He added toast, eggs, kippers, bacon, and beans to his plate. Excitement at the possibility that he would soon hand the true killer over to the police had spurred his mood and appetite.
“And you are quite cheerful yourself.” She beamed at him. “I have the menu worked out for our dinner party. I would be pleased to have you review it to make sure there isn’t anything that our guests would not enjoy.”
The dinner party.
The devil take it. He’d been so busy the last few days meeting with his barrister, solicitor, and man of business as well as trying to clear his name as a suspect that he’d forgotten about the blasted dinner party.
“If you will place it on my desk, I promise upon my return later today I will look it over. As soon as I finish breakfast, I am off again.”
“My, you are certainly busy these days. I hope you can clear up that murder nonsense before the dinner party.”
William almost laughed. His mother wasn’t concerned that he was a suspect in two murders—only in how it would affect her dinner party. “I am trying my best, Mother.”
She patted his hand. “That’s good, dear. And thank you so much for the extra gardener you sent. He did a wonderful job with that part of the flower garden that was looking quite sad.”
“Extra gardener?”
“Yes. A lovely man—even did some arrangements in the house for us.”
He had no idea what Mother was talking about, but with more important issues to deal with, he dismissed her words.
His first trip of the day would be to the Principal Probate Registry, which had copies of every will proved in Somerset County. He wanted to see for himself if Patrick Whitney had in fact received a great deal of money from his father, as he had stated.
The clerk at the Registry was a pleasant young man. He handed William a paper to fill out to see a copy of the probated will. Within minutes the will was placed in front of him.
He flipped through the pages, taking notes. When he was finished, he thanked the clerk and left the building with very interesting information.
Patrick had inherited one pound from his father. There had been a notation in the will that Mr. John Willingham Whitney, being of sound mind and body, was leaving his son one pound because that was all he was worth.
Apparently there had been no love lost between father and son. The next thing of note was that Mr. Whitney had left his entire estate to his wife, Mrs. Carol Swain Whitney, in trust, with Mr. James Harding acting as trustee.
Feeling more confident than he had in weeks, William made his way to Mrs. Johnson’s house for a bit of surveillance.
There was a tea shop across the street from the house. William checked his timepiece. Two o’clock in the afternoon. He ordered tea and a sandwich and was fortunate enough to find a table at the front of the store, with a full view of Mrs. Johnson’s house.
He took his time eating his food and drinking his tea. When nothing happened after about an
