Page 33 of Solving Sophronia

“At this point, I’ll not rule anything out.” Detective Graham clasped his hands behind his back and stared toward the closet. “I still believe Nick Sloan is our best suspect. Did Mr. Parker say where to find him?”

“Sloan frequents a pub on the South Bank,” the constable said.

Sophie stood, glad for a reason to leave the room with the blood. “Shall we go speak to Mr. Sloan, then?”

Merryweather’s eyes widened, and he darted a look at the detective.

Detective Graham frowned. “Absolutely not, Miss Bremerton.”

She braced herself for a battle. “Detective, I am perfectly capable of visiting a tavern in the middle of the afternoon, I assure you. And I am not afraid of a disreputable neighborhood. Do not presume it is your place to shield me from—”

“Constable Merryweather will go,” Detective Graham said in a hard voice that reminded her very much of his gruff temperament two evenings before.

“But, Detective, I—”

“Bring Sloan to the station for questioning.” Detective Graham didn’t acknowledge her protest but continued to speak to the constable.

“Yes, sir.” Merryweather put on his hat, tugging the brim and inclining his head as he passed Sophie. “Good day, my lady.”

“Constable,” Sophie said in acknowledgment. Once she was left alone with Detective Graham, she scowled at the man, sat back down, and returned to her drawing.

Detective Graham gathered the soiled napkins, the paper with the bloody stripe, and the horse statue. “Is there anything else you should like to see before leaving, Miss Bremerton?”

She didn’t look up from her work. “I don’t believe so.”

“You’re angry.” It wasn’t a question.

“I grow weary of being told what I may or may not do,” she replied, pressing too forcefully with her pencil and tearing through the paper. “But I do not suppose you could even begin to understand what I mean.”

Detective Graham sat beside her on the settee. “You are right. Though I might try, I cannot understand. Not fully.”

She gave him a flat stare, bothered that he hadn’t even tried to argue. “You’ve never been ordered about?”

“Certainly. By my superiors, my rent collector, my employers—as a child, I was ordered about by the sweep I worked for.” His lip curled. “But the difference is none of it was ever done out of care for me or concern for my safety.”

Sophie saw a flash of something in his face, a vulnerability she was certain he’d not intended to reveal, and it tugged at her heart. She wondered what secrets his past held. Had nobody ever looked after him? Protected him? Loved him? And did he mean he was concerned for her? The idea gave her a pleasant wiggle in her tummy. But of course, policemen were concerned for everyone’s safety.

He tucked the bundle of evidence under his arm and stood. “I am sorry to add to your distress.”

“I am not so very fragile.” She held her shred of pride tightly, afraid that if she let it go, he would see behind it the uncertain woman who was neither pretty nor interesting enough to entice a detective to attend a ball with her or keep from disappointing her own parents.

“I know,” he said. “But still, I ask you to trust my judgment concerning your safety in working on this case.”

She considered. Were his words a projection of his own pride when it came to his case? Or did he speak out of true concern for her? And why did it matter so much?

“I do, Detective,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so naive. “I trust you.”

Chapter 9

Jonathan squinted up at thesky as he left the assembly hall with Miss Bremerton. The day was warm, but late-afternoon clouds gathered. An evening storm was likely within the hour.

Miss Bremerton pulled on crocheted gloves and then took his arm as they descended the stairs to the street.

Jonathan liked the feel of her hand on his arm. Walking with her was much different from walking with Sergeant Lester or another of the officers. He and Miss Bremerton were not simply walking side by side, headed in the same direction, but together. And the sensation was very agreeable.

He considered the afternoon they’d spent together. He’d initially dreaded the young lady’s involvement with the case and had braced himself for a day of annoyance at her interfering. But in reality, he’d found himself pleasantly surprised with her company. And even more surprised that she’d turned out to be an asset to the investigation. Miss Bremerton was intelligent and insightful, both attributes he’d not expected when she’d barged onto the crime scene two nights before.

He’d certainly not expected Miss Bremerton to draw his emotions so close to the surface—twice within just a few hours. He blamed the reactions on a woman’s influence—something he was very unaccustomed to, both as a man with no family and a police officer. To what else could he attribute his desire to confide secrets, parts of his past he’d never revealed to anyone, and his very nearly breaking into tears—twice? He smiled, thinking how Tom had always warned him to “beware of females and their crafty ways.”

---