Page 37 of Solving Sophronia

Detective Graham smiled and shook the boy’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Freddy.” He removed his hat. “And this must be your mother.”

“Martha Payne,” the woman said.

Her expression went from suspicious to worried, her wide eyes making her look much younger than Sophie had originally estimated. Martha Payne couldn’t be more than a few years older than Sophie’s own age of twenty-two. She studied the woman. Her face was lovely and her figure small and slender. If her eyes were not so tired, and with a new gown, she could easily pass as a true beauty of high Society.

“Is Freddy in trouble, sir?” Martha asked.

“No, nothing like that.” Detective Graham shook his head. “Very sorry to interrupt your supper.” He glanced at the table, where two bowls of some sort of stew were partly eaten. A slice of bread sat beside each bowl.

Sophie couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as she compared the meager servings to the enormous meal that was surely sitting at her family’s dining table right now.

“We’ve just a few questions,” the detective said.

Freddy nodded. “About the dead lady.”

“Yes, I wondered if you”—Detective Graham looked between them—“either of you... saw anything unusual in the alley two nights ago... before the police arrived.”

“I didn’t see anything.” Martha’s gaze darted toward the window, then to her son. “Neither of us did.” She licked her lips, her brows pulling together. The question had frightened her.

Detective Graham stepped close to the table. He moved the curtains and looked down through the window. “From here, you have an excellent view of the entire alley. Are you certain you saw nothing?”

“That’s what I said.” Martha folded her arms tightly.

“And where were you Monday night, madam?” Detective Graham asked.

“Here. Minding my own business.” Martha picked up a blanket from the bed, folded it, and smoothed down the edge. She deliberately avoided looking at the detective. “Doing my washing and fixing supper for Freddy.”

“If you please, Mrs. Payne,” Sophie said. “Our intention is not to frighten you. The dead woman’s name was Jane Duffin. We only wish to discover who did this to her. If you saw anything last night, anything at all, it might

help.”

“There was—” the boy began.

“Quiet, Freddy.” Martha’s voice was shrill. She set the blanket on the bed and opened the door. “I answered your questions. If that’s all, I’ll thank you to leave now.”

Sophie’s temperature rose. It was obvious the woman was keeping something from them. “If you please, madam—”

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Payne.” Detective Graham spoke over her. He put on his hat and inclined his head. “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

Sophie couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t continue the interrogation. Martha was lying; Sophie was sure of it. She opened her mouth to say so, but Detective Graham caught her gaze. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly, communicating that he understood her frustration, but further questioning would do no good.

Following his lead, Sophie bid the Paynes farewell and followed him through the hall and down the stairs.

Once they were outside beneath the porch overhang, Detective Graham turned to her. “What do you think?”

“The woman knows something, but she will not tell us.” Sophie glanced toward the door, feeling the urge to go back inside and demand that Martha tell the truth. “She is scared.”

“She has a child to protect.” He looked up at the rainy sky and then offered his arm. “Come along.”

She took his arm, but instead of leading her to the carriage, he led her toward the pub.

Detective Graham opened the door, letting out a cloud of odors and noise from the establishment.

“What are—?” Sophie recoiled at the boisterous laughter and the smell of alcohol and unwashed bodies coming from inside the Porky Pie. “What are we doing here?”

“Waiting,” Detective Graham said. “May I buy you a drink?” They entered and sat at a table in a corner near the door.

Sophie kept her hands in her lap, not wanting to soil her gloves with whatever stained the tabletop.

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