Page 34 of Dark Tidings on the Thames
“And Glynn Foulger? You followed her home, too?”
At that question, the boy looked up. “No. I tried, but that one was cagey. Somehow she always knew when I was on her trail.”
“She was a challenge,” Niall said.
“More than that one, I’ll tell you,” Arnold said, glancing at Jeanette’s image.
“What did Miss Foulger do when she suspected you were following her?” asked Wooten.
“She would duck in a pub or just go and spend the evening at her charity work. She was always canny enough to leave with a friend or a group, then.”
“And you didn’t want to chance getting spotted or caught, eh?” Niall said wryly. “Not so much risk when you are stalking a woman alone.”
Arnold scowled and folded his arms in front of him again.
But Wooten had leaned in. “But you outsmarted her. You found out where she lived. How?”
The young man lifted a shoulder, but there was pride in his tone when he answered. “She kept taking refuge in that charity, so I used it against her. I waited outside and chatted up the bloke that runs the place. I told him I came from her employer, the farmer who hires her to sell his blooms. I said I needed to discuss a business matter. He was in a hurry and wanted to be off, but I persisted. He didn’t want to go back inside and look at his records, so he gave me the general direction. I went to the spot and asked after the woman with the scar, and it didn’t take long to find her.”
“So very clever.” Niall leaned forward too. “You discovered her home, so you spent the next weeks pounding on her door in the middle of the night and throwing rocks and garbage at her windows. Itwasn’t a bad bit of investigating. I can’t help but imagine what positive things you could do with your opportunities and skills, instead of getting your excitement from terrorizing helpless women.”
“Very well,” Wooten said. “We have established that you stalked Miss Foulger. You frightened her at her home. You commissioned, printed, and posted foul images of her. Now, let’s discuss your whereabouts two nights ago.” He took up his notebook again. “Where were you between sunset, which would have been around half-eight, until midnight?”
Arnold’s eyes widened. “When? Do you mean the night she was killed? I told you, I didn’t kill the girl!”
“I’m afraid you will have to convince us,” Wooten said coldly. “Where were you?”
“I… I…” The young man cast his gaze about wildly. “Two nights ago?” He straightened. “My mother hosted a dinner party! Yes, I was trapped there all evening. She had a card room set up for entertainment after dinner and the guests stayed until well after midnight. Until half past one, at the least! Speak with them all, if you like. They can all tell you. I was there the entire evening.”
Wooten finished writing in his notebook. Standing, he gestured to Niall and turned toward the door.
“Wait! Where are you going?” Arnold cried. “What about me?”
“You will stay here,” Wooten told him. “Unless you decide to give any trouble, in which case, you will be carted off to a cell.Iam going to speak with your father to confirm what you have told us.” He glanced back. “Then I might, perhaps, stop by the nearest parish church and give thanks that I do not have a son such as you.”
Niall watched the young man put his head down on the table, then followed the inspector out.
“We need that artist’s statement to lock this up tightly,” Wooten said. “Let’s see if he has returned.”
As they headed toward his office, they heard signs of a commotioncoming near. “That will be his father, the earl, I predict,” Wooten said, sounding tired.
A gentleman turned into the passage, snarling threats. A phalanx of constables followed him, clearly trying to placate the irate man. Wooten made a gesture of dismissal and the constables melted away, but not before one stepped forward to hand over a file.
“Good morning.” Wooten tucked the file under his arm as he approached the gentleman. “Lord Fenton, I must assume? I am Inspector Wooten. I have just interviewed your son. We had questions for him regarding his relations with—”
“With a street seller?” the earl interrupted. “A strumpet who stands outside, selling wares to the public?”
“With two innocent young women, one of whom has been murdered.”
The earl’s jaw dropped. “Never say you are accusing my son of murder. Impertinence! Slander! I’ll have your guts for garters. I’ll speak to the commissioner myself—”
Wooten cut him off. “Lord Fenton, did your wife host an evening of dinner and cards two nights ago?”
The earl blinked. “Yes. Yes, she did.”
“Did you attend?”
Fenton barked out a short laugh. “Did I attend? Of course I did!” Comprehension dawned in his face. “And so did my son, for that matter! If that was when your sly little street seller was killed, then we have an entire houseful of witnesses who can vouch for Fred’s innocence.”
