Page 67 of Solving Sophronia

Sophie looked up quickly, not wishing for the woman to see her staring at her fingers. “I just spoke to the doctor. He expects the constable to recover fully within a few weeks.”

Martha’s shoulders relaxed. She gave a smile, and Sophie noticed again how very lovely she was. Martha glanced again at the hospital. “Do you suppose I might see him?”

“The police are with him now—I don’t know for how long.” Sophie felt a pang at the reminder. “I don’t believe they would mind if you paid a visit.”

Martha shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to bother them. I’ll wait until later. Good day, Miss Bremerton.” She curtsied and started away.

“Wait,” Sophie said. She caught up to the woman. “Mrs. Payne, do you have somewhere you and Freddy might go for a few days? Perhaps a relative or a friend you could stay with? I believe you may be in danger.”

Martha’s face paled. “Why? What has happened?”

Sophie dreaded the explanation she must give and felt heat spreading up her neck as she considered exactly how she was going to explain that she’d accidentally published Martha’s name and her son’s in a news article the killer might read and discover they were potentially witnesses to his crime. After this, how would anyone ever trust her again? She sighed. “Would you join me for tea, Mrs. Payne?”

Za

Three hours later Jasper carried the last of Martha’s things into the boardinghouse on Wilkes Street. The carriage driver’s help finding lodgings near the laundry where Martha worked had been invaluable.

Sophie glanced around the room. Though it was furnished, it still seemed bare, and the Payne’s few possessions did little to fill the place. But as sparse as it was, it was infinitely better than the room off Wentworth, and there was even a separate room for Freddy and space to hang the wash.

Martha hung a gown in the wardrobe.

“Now, the landlady has already been paid for three months,” Sophie said. “That should give the police plenty of time to locate the killer and send him away for good.”

Jasper tipped his hat to the women as he left the room. He had entrusted Freddy with the carriage and no doubt wished to return before the boy took a ride through the city.

“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness,” Martha said. She took Sophie’s hand. “I wish I could somehow repay you.”

Sophie squeezed her fingers. “You can do that by staying hidden. Don’t tell your old neighbors where you’ve gone, and keep Freddy close.” She wondered how likely it was that Freddy wouldn’t return to his friends. If only the boy were in school. That would keep him too occupied for mischief. Perhaps she would discuss it with Elizabeth, see what the child’s options were.

Martha didn’t release Sophie’s hand. She held herself tightly and chewed on her lip.

Sophie sensed she had something more to say.

“Miss Bremerton,” she began hesitantly.

“Yes? What is it?” Sophie prompted.

Martha glanced around the room, then looked down at her hands. She released her hold on Sophie and folded her arms. “This is all my fault.”

Sophie’s first thought was to brush aside the statement, to reassure the woman that of course this wasn’t her fault. She was an innocent victim of circumstance. But something in the woman’s voice made her pause. There was more.

“What is it, Martha?”

“I should have told you when you and the detective first came.” She rubbed her arms. “But I was frightened, you see? I have Freddy to worry about, and...”

“I understand completely,” Sophie said. “You can tell me now.”

Martha’s fingers tightened on her arms.

“Did you see something in the alley that night, Martha?” Sophie prompted.

Martha nodded. “Not so much saw. The alley was shadowed, you see, and I ducked away, not wanting them to see me. But I heard them. Two men.” Her voice was a whisper.

“What did they say?”

“They argued,” Martha spoke in a soft voice, glancing toward the open door. “About where to leave her, the dead lady. One wanted her to be found, and the other—he just wanted to hurry and leave. I didn’t understand most of what they were saying.”

Sophie’s heart beat faster. “Anything else? How did they sound?”

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