William nodded at her father. “Please do not concern yourself, my lord. I will do what I can to assist.”
“And once you find this man, notify the police of his whereabouts. That might clear this whole thing up quickly.” Papa nodded toward William and turned to Amy before leaving the room with Mr. Nelson-Graves. “Stay out of trouble, daughter. Send a message if the police return with the absurd idea of arresting you.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, his usual departing gesture, except this time he pulled her in for a hug also.
Amy made her way over to the sofa near the fireplace and sat, petting Persephone as the little dog licked his rear end. Whatever would she do if the police did return to arrest her? She could always climb out a window, but with nowhere to go, that seemed like a foolish idea.
Her aunt sat next to her and took her hand. “My dear, I believe while this nasty business is going on, you should conduct your life as usual. Keep your social engagements and don’t answer any foolish questions. If rumors begin—which they most certainly will—it is important that you are seen as a victim of a crime against a friend and not a suspect.”
“Thank you, Aunt Margaret. That is precisely what I will do.” She batted Persephone’s tongue away from her ministrations.
“Even though the detectives seem to be focused on you, if they had sufficient proof, they would not have walked out of here without you in handcuffs.”
Although Aunt Margaret meant well, her words flooded Amy’s insides with fear, but also with determination to not stand by while she was under suspicion. She nodded. “Thank you. I am sure they will find the culprit soon.”
“Very good, niece. Remember how politicians deal with these type of things. Until they are carted off and tossed behind bars yelling and screaming, they always proclaim their innocence, even when the evidence is overwhelming.”
Wonderful. Now Aunt was comparing her to some unsavory public servant with dirt on his hands and illegally gotten money in his bank account.
“I am off this evening to a musicale at Mr. Berry’s home.” Aunt Margaret had a very active social life and was liked by many. Amy never stopped wondering why someone as poised, pretty, and amicable as her aunt had never married.
She often pondered whether there was a broken heart in Aunt Margaret’s history. Then she chastised herself for assuming, like everyone else in the world, that there had to be a reason Aunt Margaret had never married. Perhaps she simply didn’t want to.
“Do you wish to join me?”
Amy shook her head. “Thank you, but I believe I will remain at home this evening. I feel the beginnings of a megrim and think an early night is a good idea.”
Aunt Margaret patted her hand and stood. “If you change your mind, let me know.” With a kiss to the top of Amy’s head, her aunt left the room.
“This is certainly a mess you find yourself in, Amy.” William regarded her from where he stood in front of the window. “If there is anything I can do to help, please ask.”
She grinned and walked across the room to stand right in front of him. Persephone growled. Amy backed up. Sometimes the dog could be a bit unsociable. “I plan to solve the murder myself.”
His brows rose. “Excuse me? I believe I just heard you say you planned to solve the murder yourself.”
“That would be correct.” She nuzzled the soft fur on her dog. “I intend to find the real killer.”
William sighed and smiled at her like she was a child suggesting she could fly. “First of all, what do you know about murders, and how will you discover anything the police cannot?”
Amy smirked and placed Persephone on the floor. The dog ran in circles around William’s feet several times, barking wildly, stopped, licked her bottom, then walked off, her chin in the air. “If I tell you something, you must promise to never repeat the information. Do you agree?”
William raised one eyebrow and leaned against the windowsill, his arms crossed. The sun coming through the glass behind him cast a shadow over his face. She wanted to see his expression when she told him. “Let’s sit over there”—she waved her arm—“on the sofa.”
He shook his head and grinned. “Lead the way, my lady.”
Once they were settled side by side on the sofa, she said, “I am very familiar with police activity, my lord.” She lowered her voice, even though the room contained only her and William.
“Indeed? All the reading you’ve done? Is that why you wanted to borrow my book?”
“Noooo.” She dragged the word out and picked the dog hairs from her skirt. “I am familiar with killers because I write about murders all the time. I am the mystery writer E. D. Burton.”
He hesitated for a moment, then grinned. “And I am Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle, so we make a fine team.”
She shook her head. “I am not lying, William. I am the mystery writer E. D. Burton.”
Almost a full minute of silence passed as William stared at her before he offered a slight, somewhat unsure-of-himself smile. “Well done, Amy. You almost had me believing that.”
“It’s true.”
He shook his head. “E. D. Burton is a very talented and popular mystery writer.”