Page 35 of Solving Sophronia

“No. It’s here.” He brushed it away with his thumb.

Pink spots burst across Miss Bremerton’s cheeks.

Jonathan pulled away, appalled at his action. “I apologize, my lady. I did not even think.”

“So it ismy ladyagain, is it?”

“I should not have behaved so familiarly.”

She looked at her pastry. “Do not let it trouble you, Detective.”

Her voice was low, and it sounded... well, he wasn’t exactly certain how it sounded. Was she angry? Hurt? Offended? He looked around for something to defuse the awkwardness of the situation, and his gaze landed on her notebook. “May I?” He lifted it onto his lap.

“Of course.”

He turned the pages, studying her artwork and notes. “George Lewis and Jane Duffin left the kitchen to find somewhere to be alone.” He was glad to return to the comfort of discussing the case. “What is more private than a closet in an unoccupied room?”

“Yet Nick Sloan knew they were in there,” she said. “But how? Did someone tell him? And once he knew, he convinced a partner to help him to sneak into the assembly hall, murder the pair, and move the bodies to Spitalfields?”

A thought occurred to Jonathan. “Or... there is another possibility...” He spoke slowly as the idea formed. “What if their presence was initially unknown to the murderer—or murderers?” He turned to the sketch of the parlor. “This room was on the other side of the assembly hall from the dinner and lecture—not only a perfect spot for a romantic meeting but for a secretive conversation. It is possible that Jane Duffin and George Lewis overheard something they weren’t meant to...”

“And when they were discovered in the closet, they were killed for it,” Miss Bremerton finished. She turned her knees to the side, glancing back over her shoulder at the assembly hall as she leaned toward him. Apparently her former discomfort was forgotten, and for that Jonathan was glad. “Detective, the murderer may not have been Nick Sloan at all.”

Jonathan nodded, rubbing the lumpy pocket watch fob as he considered. The witness list and the suspect list had just become one and the same.

“But it couldn’t have been a member of the Kingsclere Hunting Club,” Miss Bremerton said as she turned back toward Jonathan.

“You think only servants capable of murder?” He could not keep the resentment from his tone.

“Of course I don’t.” She took a bite of her pie, chewing as she looked toward the Thames. “But I know those men.” She spoke more softly, and now she looked afraid. “Some I’ve known my entire life. I cannot believe any of them capable of something so evil.”

He nodded, understanding fully as his burst of anger faded. In his years as a police officer, he’d seen countless good people driven to abhorrent acts, and when revealed, their friends and family were nearly always unwilling to believe their guilt.

He turned a page in the notebook. Now that the idea of an overheard secret had taken root, it seemed the most logical. It provided motive, and unfortunately for Miss Bremerton, the most likely perpetrators in this scenario were the lecture attendees. Not only would two gentlemen have moved unnoticed through the assembly hall but they also would have been able to leave the party for an extended amount of time without drawing attention—something impossible for a servant. They’d also have had the means to transport the bodies. But this new theory brought its own batch of questions.

He turned another page, looking at the drawing of the alley behind the Porky Pie. “This really is remarkable,” he said. “Your memory for details and the ability to render such a picture... I must admit some jealousy.”

She glanced at him, her expression doubtful.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked. “Surely you must know how rare your talent is.”

“Unfortunately, drawing remembered details is not the talent my parents hoped for.” She pressed together her lips and glanced up at a couple walking past.

Jonathan wondered what sort of people found such an amazing ability to be lacking. “And in what discipline would they rather see their daughter excel?”

“Beauty, I suppose.” She shrugged, giving a sigh that somehow managed to sound resentful and resigned at the same time as she stared down at the last bits of her pastry. “And desirability. To my parents, the greatest accomplishment lies in making a fortunate match. And as you see, I am hardly equipped—”

“Beauty is not a talent,” he said. “It is luck. But you do possess quite a bit of it.” He thought it impossible that her parents didn’t see what was to him blatantly obvious. Miss Bremerton was lovely and grew even more so the longer he spent in her company. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed the first time they’d met, but now he wondered how he’d missed it.

Her blush returned. “I’m sorry. My intention was not to beg for a compliment.” She folded the paper around the remains of her pie. “I... well, let’s say my interests lie in another direction—in journalism—and that disappoints them greatly.”

Then they are fools.Perhaps he’d begin his interviews of the hunting club members with Miss Bremerton’s father, Lord Mather. And conduct it in the cells.

To keep from giving voice to the disgust he felt toward Miss Bremerton’s parents, Jonathan looked back at the drawing, and this time something caught his eye. There appeared to be a shadow in the window above the alley. He turned the page toward her, tapping his finger on the window. “Miss, what is this here?”

She studied the spot he indicated. “Yes, I remember the curtains moved as if something... or someone... passed behind. I’d forgotten about it.”

“That someone might be a witness,” he said, feeling the charge of excitement that came with a new lead. He rose and pulled her to her feet, retrieving her bag, notebook, and the bundle holding the statue. Her face had regained its color, and for that he was glad. “I do hope your energy is restored, Miss Bremerton.” He offered his arm, walking with her to the waiting carriage. With any luck, this discovery could lead to a break in the case.

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