Murder on Charles Street - Leighann Dobbs Page 0,64

asked him where he was the night of his father’s death. He told me he was at the Picked Plum. I understand that is some sort of gaming house?”

Lord Annandale nodded. “Aye. ’Tis one of the establishments we frequented in search of his debts.”

“Do they all have such trite names?”

Next to her, on the chair he had insisted on leaving at Katherine’s house, Wayland chuckled. He jostled Emma on his knee, and she shoved her head under his hand to be petted.

Katherine asked, “Did you happen to confirm his whereabouts the night of the murder while you were there?”

Lord Annandale hesitated. He glanced toward his fiancée before reluctantly shaking his head. “I’m afraid it did nae occur to me. We were there searching out his motive, not his whereabouts.”

Katherine bit the inside of her cheek. He should have been doing both. This was why she needed her ankle to heal quickly—so she could do the investigating herself. Lord Annandale’s head was simply not in it, not with the wedding drawing ever nearer.

Pru interjected, laying a hand on her fiancé’s knee. “If need be, he can return and ask the proprietor if anyone saw Mr. Gammon on that night. Then we’ll know once and for all whether or not he might have killed his father.”

Katherine leaned back in her chair, worrying her lower lip as she thought. Between the pain in her ankle and the excitement of the evening, she’d barely slept a wink. It made her faculties fuzzy as she tried to piece together what they knew.

“I don’t believe Mr. Gammon killed his father. He was worried that his father’s reputation will be ruined if this grand secret got out and people thought he’d killed himself. I think his grief was genuine.”

Standing by the window, looking out, Lyle made a wordless sound. He stood near to the empty chair that McTavish had occupied these past two nights but didn’t sit. Lord Annandale had informed her that McTavish was dead on his feet after staying up two nights in a row and had been left at home to recover.

Harriet looked as though she had risen from the dead in order to wait upon them during this meeting. She snapped, “Will you sit down?”

At her voice, Lyle turned from the window. He seemed to return to himself and surveyed the group. “Katherine, I thought you told me you were near to solving the case. That’s why you brought me here? To inform me of an imminent arrest?”

Her face heated. In truth, she had simply wanted Lyle’s input on the matter. However, he was so busy of late that he didn’t seem to be present in the room even when he was standing in front of her.

“Haven’t you been listening? I’d like your input.” She mumbled her words, but he seemed to hear her nevertheless. He dragged McTavish’s chair closer to the group and sat, completing the ring around the lit hearth.

“I heard that our victim might have killed himself.”

Katherine ground her teeth. “He did not. He had no motive to do so.”

Lyle raised his eyebrows. “What of those papers you say he’s been worrying over?”

So he had been paying some attention, after all. Reluctantly, Katherine admitted, “Mr. Gammon confirmed that his father was worried over one of his past patients, but I assure you he was not worried enough to kill himself.”

Wayland hummed in his throat. “So Mr. Gammon simply wanted the notes so as to protect his father’s reputation, but why have none of the other suspects come to retrieve the notes?”

Katherine tapped the toe of her uninjured foot on the wooden floor. “Perhaps they haven’t heard the rumor yet.”

Harriet nodded, scrubbing her face. “If Lord Westing’s daughter lives out of town, she would not have heard so soon. Word travels fast, but not that fast, not with the roads so treacherous of late.”

Spring could not come soon enough for Katherine.

Pru asserted, “I still think Mr. Gammon might be lying. You’re trusting him altogether too quickly.”

Lord Annandale shrugged and laid his hand over Pru’s, still on his knee. “It might be that Lord Westing’s daughter hired someone to perform the chore for her.”

“And let’s not forget about Dr. Sumner,” Wayland interjected. He scratched Emma behind the ears, looking at everyone solemnly as he recounted, “If you recall, I wasn’t able to find him anywhere in London. He must be eschewing society. And why?”

“He might be ill,” Pru suggested.

Blearily, Harriet mumbled, “A physician?”

“They’re certain to find themselves sick from time to time.”

Wayland