She stood to escort her guests out of the house. Wrapped in the pelisse Harriet produced, Pru sailed out the door first, followed closely by her future husband as he escorted her along the shoveled path toward the waiting carriage. The last to leave, Wayland stuffed his hands in the pockets of his greatcoat and turned to face her in the threshold. His breath misted in front of his face as fingers of the winter chill crept inside.
“I know it isn’t your first choice of entertainment, but think of it this way: if anyone will know the secret your Dr. Gammon was hiding, it will be Lady Dalhousie.” Donning his topper, he nodded to Katherine and followed in his friends’ wake.
As Katherine watched him go, her hand still on the latch of the open door, a tingle of enthusiasm swept through her. Apparently, Wayland hadn’t been as indifferent to the investigation as he appeared. If he thought the matter was worth investigating, that must mean her instincts were correct. There was murder afoot, and she would get to the bottom of it as soon as possible, starting with what she would glean at Lady Dalhousie’s musicale. Wayland was certainly correct about that—if there was any secret to be had, the old gossip would know it.
Chapter Four
As Katherine shut the door, she noticed a familiar lanky figure striding down the street. He had the collar of his greatcoat turned up against his neck, his ginger locks brushing against the top. Head down, he didn’t glance in her direction as he made his way to Number Four Charles Street. The door swung open again as Katherine stepped out after him. The sole of her slipper slid across the slick step. Belatedly, she recalled that she still wore her house clothes.
Another moment wouldn’t hinder her, would it? Hoping not to repeat her earlier brush with frostbite, she staggered back into the house only long enough to exchange her shoes for a pair of boots and pull on her cloak and gloves. Emma danced around her shins, shamelessly begging to come along. By the time Katherine staggered outside with her pug trailing on a leash behind her, Katherine had lost sight of her friend.
Tarnation! She bit her tongue to keep from cursing aloud as she walked briskly to Dr. Gammon’s house. Although the swarm of neighbors had dissipated, several professionals roamed the grounds, stamping down the crisp white snow. Lyle was among them, conversing with a much shorter man with a swarthier complexion. Katherine bit her tongue to keep from calling his name as she hastened toward him. For all that they were fast friends, he was here in an official capacity. Had he not been, he surely would have called on her.
Pausing outside the ring the men of Bow Street had cleared, Katherine drummed her fingers on her thigh as she waited for Lyle to look up from his conversation. Emma strained at the end of her lead as she vigorously sniffed at a corner of the snow. Katherine’s breath fogged in front of her face as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. When Lyle at last noticed her, she raised her hand in greeting, a half smile turning up her lips.
He met it with a quizzical tilt of his head. Wasn’t he happy to see her?
She beckoned him closer. He exchanged a few short, whispered words with his companion before loping toward her. Emma bounced on her back legs, her tail wagging vigorously to greet him. He ignored the dog, planting himself squarely between them and the door to the house—a house to which Katherine desperately needed to gain access.
“Katherine? Why are you here?” Lyle divided his attention between Katherine and her dog, who pawed ineffectually at his shin.
“You didn’t stop in to say hello.”
Having successfully won Lyle’s attention, Emma rubbed her nose on his leg. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the cold. Katherine, on the other hand, wished she had found a scarf or hat before leaving the house.
“I’m working.”
“So am I,” Katherine said. She stamped her feet to stave off the tingle in her toes. “Or I’d like to be. Dr. Gammon lives two doors down from me. You can’t expect me to ignore a neighbor’s sudden and suspicious death. He was a friend.” Her voice softened with the truth of her last sentence. She drew in a long breath to quell the wave of moroseness threatening to crash over her again.
Lyle’s pale eyebrows knit together, and his frown deepened. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. Have they found anything conclusive?”
He hesitated. “You aren’t consulting with Bow Street. I know I’ve helped you in the past, but…”
She grasped his arm, tugging him an inch closer, so their eyes were on the same level. “Lyle, there’s more. I’m certain Dr. Gammon was murdered. I was with him only last night, and he was in perfect health. This makes no sense.”
Emma whined as if supporting Katherine’s claim.
His face an impassive mask, Lyle looked at each of them in turn before he peered over his shoulder. With a sigh, he turned back. “I haven’t investigated the scene myself, you understand. But Hampson there has, and he didn’t find signs of foul play. The windows and doors are intact, and the physician seems to have died peacefully in his sleep. There is no indication of a theft or struggle. This time, your suspicions may be unfounded.”
Katherine had thought that Lyle would take her suspicions more seriously. She and Lyle had known each other ever since her first meeting with the Royal Society for Investigative Techniques. He had been her faithful friend ever since, at times seeking her help and at times giving it.
“Lyle…” She met his blue eyes again, holding them and willing him to remember their shared history.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I trust you, and I’ll take your suggestion under consideration due to our shared history. Your insights have been valuable in the past, but if the victim was your friend, you may be too close to this.”
“All I ask is that you walk in there with an open mind. Or better yet, let me walk with you. When I was here last night, he told me that he had misgivings about an old patient. He was poring over his notes, but I didn’t see the contents. He left the papers in the parlor. Will you let me fetch them?”
The grooves framing Lyle’s mouth deepened. “If they pertain to a murder—”
“If he died peacefully, it won’t hurt the investigation.”
Lyle gritted his teeth audibly. He glanced over his shoulder, looking at his compatriots before he turned back to her. “Quickly. And you’ll have to leave out the back.”
She nodded “That won’t be a problem. I usually come and go by the garden door in any case.”
He beckoned her forward with his hand, at the same time turning on his heel and striding toward the front door. With a yip, Emma hurried after him. Lyle approached the door—now shut—with a confidence Katherine tried to mirror. The tension in her shoulders eased once she was inside, with the door shut behind her.
Lyle waved his long-fingered hand. “Lead on.”
She didn’t waste time talking, but bustled into the parlor, where she had sat with Emma last night. Her gaze fell on the spotless table before she strode to the corner where Dr. Gammon had deposited the sheaf of papers. She stopped short when she’d walked far enough around his armchair to see that the corner was empty. The papers were gone. Mouth agape, Katherine turned to Lyle.
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.