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“Are you suggesting that I’m the only woman raised with money in this county?” Charlotte demanded. “Because that’s ridiculous.”
“Ah, but there’s far more,” Charles Baxter said. “I spoke with a man who frequented the brassiere around the same time of Brooks’ murder. He reports that on the night of the murder, Brooks planned to meet you—his cousin Charlotte …”
“Who was this man?” Charlotte demanded.
“I cannot disclose this information.”
Charlotte shot from the parlour chair. Her head spun with rage. “This is preposterous,” she said. “Besides. It seems to me that nobody knows what time, exactly, Brooks was murdered, correct? The evening of the murder, I met with the mystic with my friend Louisa and our chaperone, her older sister, Margorie. After that, we returned to Louisa’s home for dinner. How could I have murdered anyone? I have a stacked alibi …”
Charles Baxter smirked. Charlotte’s heart sank. It seemed to her that he’d put far more effort into proving her apparent guilt than looking into any other possibility.
“I’ve spoken already with your dear friend, Louisa,” he said.
“Is that right?”
What on earth had Louisa done? Assuredly, Charles had forced her into it somehow, backed her into a corner, demanded the sort of words that would align with his vision.
“She reports that you did commune with the mystic, but that the mystic demanded you each have a separate meeting,” he continued, growling the words. “I asked if she had eyes on you throughout that entire time, and she said no. She didn’t. Which leads me to believe that you sneaked down the street, murdered your cousin in cold blood, and …”
Charlotte shook her head violently and shouted, “No! Why on earth would I have murdered Brooks? He was a dear one, certainly—a man with a boisterous and memorable personality; a man who didn’t deserve to die. But beyond this sentiment, I hardly knew him. I can’t tell you what his favorite colour was or what he thought of the current political landscape or whether or not he liked to eat chicken. We went to several parties together and greeted one another like old friends who didn’t keep up any longer. Can’t you understand this, Mr Baxter? I had no reason on earth to murder him. You’ve walked a long way down a disappointing path.”
Charles Baxter nibbled for a moment on his lower lip, then turned his eyes towards Lord and Lady Stanton. Silence hung over all of them for a long moment. Charlotte felt that what she’d pointed out—that it was impossible for her to brew up any sort of resentment towards a cousin she had hardly known—should have forced Charles Baxter back out the door, on the hunt for the proper murderer.
As it stood, however, Charles Baxter had fought hard for this angle. He wasn’t so willing to give it up.
“I don’t know why you did it, Charlotte,” Charles articulated slowly. “I only know that I’m on the verge of finding out.”
Charlotte’s father finally thrust forward. He glanced back towards his daughter, then returned his gaze towards Charles.
“I don’t understand. You think my daughter was the one responsible for Brooks’ murder?”
“I’m more than ninety percent positive of this fact, My Lord,” Charles Baxter said.
At this, Lady Stanton burst into outlandish giggles. “That’s insane. My daughter is far too lazy for murder.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Don’t think for a second that my daughter would go through such trouble,” Lady Stanton continued. “If she hated Brooks enough to murder him, all she would have to do is gossip about him at one of the various balls and parties enough to ruin his reputation. This is the way girls conduct murder. Isn’t that right, Charlotte?”
Charlotte tilted her head. “Well, I don’t suppose I would have done that either …”
“Even still. My daughter isn’t capable of such a thing,” Lady Stanton affirmed.
“You’d be surprised the sorts of things women have been known to do. I see a great deal in this business,” Charles Baxter affirmed.
At this, Charlotte’s parents exchanged panicked glances, ones that seemed to suggest that, perhaps, Charles Baxter was on to something.
“Mother. Father. I didn’t kill Brooks,” Charlotte shouted.
“Regardless of what you say at this moment, you will have to answer to your crimes,” Charles Baxter said. He adjusted his suit jacket and lifted his brows ominously. “I look forward to bringing you to justice, Charlotte. And I know Brooks’ parents look forward to it, as well. Finally, they will be allowed to move forward with their lives, knowing Brooks’ murderer is behind bars.”
With that, Charles Baxter turned on his heel and marched towards the front door. It clicked closed behind him, casting the Stanton family in impenetrable silence. Each stared at the ground for a long time. Charlotte’s tears traced down her cheeks and flooded her chin. Fear permeated through her.
“No. I cannot understand this,” Lady Stanton finally uttered.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it!” Charlotte cried, her voice breaking.
Lord Stanton stepped towards her. His eyes were heavy with sadness.
