Read Online Crystal Gardens by Amanda Quick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Quick
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the corner. “Do you know, Miss Ames, no other lady of my acquaintance has ever begun a conversation with a question like that.”
“Pay no attention to Evie,” Beatrice said. “She is a writer. Their conversations can take very odd turns.”
“Yes, I’m discovering that,” Lucas said.
Evangeline flushed and pushed open the gate. “Sorry, the question has been on my mind all day.”
“The other problem in dealing with writers,” Clarissa said in her most academic fashion, “is that they tend to view even the tiniest of incidents as grist for the mill, so to speak. They are always looking for inspiration for their plots and characters, you see. They collect such material the way some people collect stray bits of string.”
Lucas did not take his attention off Evangeline. “I appreciate the warning, Miss Slate.”
“That is quite enough,” Evangeline announced. She went briskly along the graveled path through the fern forest. “I am attempting to have a serious conversation with Mr. Sebastian. The least he can do is answer my questions.”
“The answer to your inquiries,” Lucas said, “is that I did find the body but I learned very little about Sharpy Hobson that we had not already guessed. He appears to have been a professional criminal who traveled here on the train from London. I found a couple of knives and a train ticket and a theater ticket stub. Hobson was evidently fond of melodramas.”
He stood politely aside, waiting for Clarissa and Beatrice to enter the garden. He followed them and paused to latch the gate.
“That’s all you were able to discover?” Evangeline asked.
“There was a large sum of money,” Lucas said. “The first half of his fee, I believe.”
Beatrice glanced back at him. “His fee?” Understanding dawned. “Oh, I see, for murdering Evie. Good heavens.”
Evangeline went up the steps. “How much am I worth, Mr. Sebastian?”
“A great deal, as it happens.” He told them exactly how much money he had discovered on the body.
Evangeline was shocked. “Good grief.”
“How odd that he would risk traveling with so much money,” Clarissa mused. “It sounds quite dangerous, what with all the thieves and pickpockets around at the train stations.”
“What else could he do with it?” Lucas asked. “He came from the criminal underworld, probably born and bred on the streets. He would not have trusted any of his associates and no legitimate bank would have accepted him as a customer. He likely concluded that his money was safer on his person than anywhere else. After all, he was Sharpy Hobson, a feared knifeman. Who would be so foolish as to try to steal from him?”
Beatrice was impressed. “You seem to have some familiarity with the criminal mind, Mr. Sebastian.”
“He has made a study of it,” Evangeline said, before Lucas could respond.
Clarissa’s eyes widened. “Really? How fascinating.”
Lucas was looking amused again, Evangeline noticed. That was probably not a good sign.
“Never mind Mr. Sebastian’s obvious expertise,” she said. “The point is that the money Hobson was carrying on his person appears to be another bit of evidence indicating that someone did indeed hire him to murder me.”
“There was never any doubt in my mind,” Lucas said mildly.
“Well, there was in mine,” Evangeline said. “I suppose it is still possible that this is a ghastly case of mistaken identity.”
“I don’t think so,” Lucas said.
She removed her key from her small chatelaine purse. “I just cannot imagine—”
The door opened before she could get her key into the lock. Molly Gillingham, the young daily maid, stood in the opening. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She darted quick glances at Lucas, while she greeted Evangeline.
“Welcome home, Miss Ames,” she said. Her accent was uncharacteristically formal.
“Thank you, Molly.” Evangeline waited. When Molly failed to step back, she smiled. “Perhaps you might remove
“Pay no attention to Evie,” Beatrice said. “She is a writer. Their conversations can take very odd turns.”
“Yes, I’m discovering that,” Lucas said.
Evangeline flushed and pushed open the gate. “Sorry, the question has been on my mind all day.”
“The other problem in dealing with writers,” Clarissa said in her most academic fashion, “is that they tend to view even the tiniest of incidents as grist for the mill, so to speak. They are always looking for inspiration for their plots and characters, you see. They collect such material the way some people collect stray bits of string.”
Lucas did not take his attention off Evangeline. “I appreciate the warning, Miss Slate.”
“That is quite enough,” Evangeline announced. She went briskly along the graveled path through the fern forest. “I am attempting to have a serious conversation with Mr. Sebastian. The least he can do is answer my questions.”
“The answer to your inquiries,” Lucas said, “is that I did find the body but I learned very little about Sharpy Hobson that we had not already guessed. He appears to have been a professional criminal who traveled here on the train from London. I found a couple of knives and a train ticket and a theater ticket stub. Hobson was evidently fond of melodramas.”
He stood politely aside, waiting for Clarissa and Beatrice to enter the garden. He followed them and paused to latch the gate.
“That’s all you were able to discover?” Evangeline asked.
“There was a large sum of money,” Lucas said. “The first half of his fee, I believe.”
Beatrice glanced back at him. “His fee?” Understanding dawned. “Oh, I see, for murdering Evie. Good heavens.”
Evangeline went up the steps. “How much am I worth, Mr. Sebastian?”
“A great deal, as it happens.” He told them exactly how much money he had discovered on the body.
Evangeline was shocked. “Good grief.”
“How odd that he would risk traveling with so much money,” Clarissa mused. “It sounds quite dangerous, what with all the thieves and pickpockets around at the train stations.”
“What else could he do with it?” Lucas asked. “He came from the criminal underworld, probably born and bred on the streets. He would not have trusted any of his associates and no legitimate bank would have accepted him as a customer. He likely concluded that his money was safer on his person than anywhere else. After all, he was Sharpy Hobson, a feared knifeman. Who would be so foolish as to try to steal from him?”
Beatrice was impressed. “You seem to have some familiarity with the criminal mind, Mr. Sebastian.”
“He has made a study of it,” Evangeline said, before Lucas could respond.
Clarissa’s eyes widened. “Really? How fascinating.”
Lucas was looking amused again, Evangeline noticed. That was probably not a good sign.
“Never mind Mr. Sebastian’s obvious expertise,” she said. “The point is that the money Hobson was carrying on his person appears to be another bit of evidence indicating that someone did indeed hire him to murder me.”
“There was never any doubt in my mind,” Lucas said mildly.
“Well, there was in mine,” Evangeline said. “I suppose it is still possible that this is a ghastly case of mistaken identity.”
“I don’t think so,” Lucas said.
She removed her key from her small chatelaine purse. “I just cannot imagine—”
The door opened before she could get her key into the lock. Molly Gillingham, the young daily maid, stood in the opening. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She darted quick glances at Lucas, while she greeted Evangeline.
“Welcome home, Miss Ames,” she said. Her accent was uncharacteristically formal.
“Thank you, Molly.” Evangeline waited. When Molly failed to step back, she smiled. “Perhaps you might remove
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