Page 104 of Corpse in the Canal

It meant nothing, Solomon assured himself, except that the vicar probably wasn’t where he’d said he was. Hardly proof of murder.

“Perhaps,” Constance said, “we might leave a note for Mr. Thomas?”

“Aren’t you going up to Channing House yourselves?” the housekeeper asked in surprise.

“Perhaps,” Constance said solemnly, “but this is a matter of utmost discretion.”

The housekeeper looked impressed and let them in. She showed them into Ellis’s study, and Constance closed the door behind her.

They didn’t have long. As one, they focused on the vicar’s desk, Solomon hastily going through correspondence, sermon notes, and an appointment diary, while Constance found a locked drawer and began hastily to pick it.

The appointment diary had two names in it for the Thursday Percy had died. Buntings and Jacks. Solomon recognized them both. The former were tenants of the Dare Farm on Adelaide’s land. The latter were a laborer’s family, living in cottages on the squire’s land. Jacks was the man who had lost his wife.

Still, the vicar could have changed his mind. He could have found no one at home and driven into town to visit the town’s poor, as he’d said.

“Sol.”

Constance’s urgent voice made him glance down. She had opened the locked drawer. Inside it, presumably under the papers and the rolled-up handkerchief now in her hands, lay a pistol.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Reverend Ellis Thomas knew he was a good man. He grieved sorely for Mr. and Mrs. Harvey’s terrible pain and had done his very best to ease it with the beautiful words of his funeral service and by his attendance at their side as they hosted their fellow mourners at their home.

Although both looked drawn and haggard, held together by very thin threads, they were playing their parts to perfection, receiving the fresh condolences of their neighbors, from Sir Felix Everett to the school mistress and the town bank manager. Both the graveside ceremony and the church service had been well attended by everyone who had known Percy, including servants and townspeople and country folk, although Ellis suspected many attended more for the parents’ sake than Percy’s. Others, of course, had come from indecent curiosity over the manner of his death.

At least those sharing the funeral luncheon all had some pretensions to gentility, and their ranks were swelled by several London friends Ellis did not know. He was glad, for the Harveys’ sakes, to see so many here.

He wasn’t quite so pleased to be introduced to the London policemen, Inspector Harris and Sergeant Flynn, whose presence caused him a nasty moment. He had just been congratulating himself on the absence of the Grey couple—who had presumably scampered home after someone took a well-deserved potshot at them. But policemen…!

“Are you comfortable with those men here at such a time?” Ellis murmured to Harvey in a quiet moment. “Shall I ask them to leave? Or send them to the kitchen?”

“Oh no,” Harvey said. “The inspector asked permission and I granted it. I’ve no idea what they think they can learn from this, but anything is worth it to discover who murdered my son.”

Ellis dropped his eyes. “Of course.”

Harvey threw out his hand to an approaching stranger, “Lethbridge, how kind of you to come.”

Ellis stepped discreetly aside. Even Mrs. Harvey looked slightly animated to see this couple, who were clearly old friends. Ellis was glad of it. He wished very much for them to have the kind of support that would lift them beyond their grief. He would help all he could, but he feared he would always be associated in their minds as the man who had buried their son. They needed more.

He hovered, wondering whether to stay by Mrs. Harvey’s side in case she tired, or to approach the police inspector and get that over with.

He had just decided on the latter when Mr. and Mrs. Grey walked into the room.

She stood out, as she always would, with her bright red-gold hair and her rather stunning beauty. In this company, she also jarred by not wearing black, apart from her gloves. A few disapproving glances were cast her way. But then, they probably lingered on her husband too. Solomon Grey wore a bandage around his head, making him look somewhat piratical, but no less eye-catching for that.

For an instant they paused just inside the door, appearing not to notice the stares, though Ellis was sure they did. Their undoubted powers of observation had always made him uncomfortable.

They moved in his direction and his stomach tightened. But, of course, they were addressing Mr. and Mrs. Harvey.

“…sorry to have missed the service,” Grey was saying, “but we were making further inquiries.”

“Of course, old fellow,” Harvey replied, in what Ellis considered too friendly a manner. “Our only concern is that you are up to such exertions. Allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Lethbridge…”

Discreetly, Thomas moved farther away, approaching Everett and Owens, who stood a few yards away making desultory conversation.

“Good service, Thomas,” Everett said. “On a difficult subject.”

“Thank you,” Ellis said gratefully. “I did try to make the best of his good points.”