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“Good morning, my lord.” Nick stuck out his hand, and they shook.
“Good morning to you as well.” William settled into one of the two comfortable blue-and-white-pinstriped chairs in front of Smith’s desk. “I would prefer it if you called me William. Sometimes my title seems a bit stuffy. Especially in the circumstances in which I find myself, assisting in a murder investigation when I am on the suspect list.”
Nick grinned. “Yes. I imagine that can disrupt a man’s days.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on the desk. “What can I do for you?” His fingers were slim, nails clean and buffed. He wore two rings, one on each hand. Everything about Nick Smith exhibited grace and polish. It was hard to reconcile this man with his early background.
“I am trying to locate a Mr. Patrick Whitney.”
Smith’s expression did not change. If he knew the man, he was very good at keeping his cards close to his chest. Nothing in his expression or movements revealed his thinking.
“He is one of the people on the list Lady Amy and I have gathered as suspects in the murder of my man of business that I spoke with you about before. It seems he had some ill feelings toward Harding and disappeared around the time his body was found in the River Avon.”
“And you have reason to believe Whitney is implicated in this?”
“Whitney’s stepmother had a trust left to her by her late husband. Harding was the trustee, and Whitney believed Harding was stealing money from the trust.”
Nick blew out a low whistle. “Not well done.”
“Not at all.”
Nick tapped his desk with his fingertip. “I don’t know Whitney personally, but if he has gone into hiding anywhere in Bath, I can roust him out. I will send a message to you when I find him.”
William stood, not wanting to take up any more of the man’s time. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Nick stood also and walked him to the door. He stuck out his hand. “If I can do anything else, just let me know.”
With that behind him, William needed to see Amy and discuss whether the two of them could figure out the code in the ledger. What baffled him was why Harding had kept the names in code. Perhaps he was afraid someone would come across the book and attempt to take over his thriving blackmail business?
Whatever the reason, they needed to get more names to investigate. Mrs. Whitney didn’t seem a plausible murderer. Since her money was tied up in a trust, there would have been no gain for her in getting rid of Harding; the trust would just pass into another trustee’s hands. Of course, hopefully that trustee wouldn’t steal from her.
Miss Gertrude, based on her demeanor and what he had known of her for years, didn’t seem likely to have gotten Harding drunk and tossed him into the river, but she obviously had something dark in her background if she had been paying blackmail money, so she would remain near the top of the list.
Although William did not consider himself an expert in solving murder mysteries, he had read quite a few stories, and Patrick Whitney had possessed motive—revenge for his stepmother—to kill Harding. Granted, not a very strong motive, since doing away with Harding wouldn’t give her the money directly anyway. But his anger at Harding and then his own disappearance around the time Harding had been found moved Patrick Whitney’s name a few positions up the list.
On the other hand, everything inside William screamed to forget the whole thing. Either he or Amy, or both of them, could have been killed the other night. Whoever had shot at them was serious.
Someone now knew what they were up to, unless the culprit hadn’t recognized them and had come only for the book and then shot at them in an effort to stop them from running off with the ledger. It was plausible that the shooter was one of Harding’s victims.
His head had begun to pound with all these thoughts, ideas, and theories running through his mind. He’d also found that his energy had dropped since he’d been shot. Even though he’d suffered only a flesh wound, his body had still suffered a shock, and he had lost some blood.
He decided that luncheon at his club and some socializing would be a good balm. Later he would visit with Amy and see how she was proceeding with unraveling the code.
William handed off his coat and hat to the footman and entered the main room of the club. The place was about half-full. He had started toward the dining room when Mr. Colbert from the book club waved him over. Colbert was seated with Mr. Davidson and the friend Davidson had recently introduced to the club members, Mr. Christopher Rawlings.
William had always liked Colbert and enjoyed the way he kept control of the book club meetings. However, since the man had begun to show interest in William’s mother, he now viewed him differently.
One did not like the idea of a man eyeing one’s mother with such eagerness. It was not done. When William had broached the subject with his mother, she had merely laughed and walked away.
That had concerned him.
“We were about to retire to the dining room for luncheon. Would you care to join us?” Colbert offered a genuine smile, which made William mad, because he truly wanted to dislike the man.
Well, he wanted socializing, so there was no reason to turn down the invitation to join the men. “Yes. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
The four of them made their way into the dining room, where they were seated at a table close to a window overlooking Queen’s Square. It was a pleasant day. Unfortunately, there was no sun, but the air was cool and crisp, so there were strollers out and about.
Once they ordered their food, Colbert looked away from the server and regarded William. “Have you heard any more about your man’s death?”
William groaned to himself. He had hoped to forget about Harding for the afternoon.
