A Changing Light by Edith Maxwell (feel good books to read txt) 📕

went to church this morning at St. James and prayed.” He swallowed. Again the pearls of sweat dotted his brow. “I have a confession I would like to make.”

A confession of murder? This could be exactly what we needed, although I would be surprised if Ned had intentional homicide in him. An accident resulting in death was more likely. I waited.

Kevin drummed his fingers on the desk. He shot me a glance. I lifted a shoulder and dropped it. I wasn’t about to take over the interrogation from him. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds on its way to half past three. A door slammed somewhere. Rain rapped like an impatient lover at the window. Ned worried his hat.

“Out with it, man.” Kevin blew out a breath. “We don’t have all day here. Did you kill Justice Harrington?”

Ned’s head jerked up. “No! I wouldn’t do something like that. But I saw who did.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

“I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and a cigar Monday night.” Ned’s voice shook as he went on.

I wanted to ask at exactly what time. I kept my mouth shut and let him talk.

“Folks don’t take kindly to the smell of cigars indoors,” Ned continued. “But I heard voices. A gentleman’s and a lady’s. They weren’t shouting, but it sounded like an argument.” Ned swiped at his forehead with a folded handkerchief. “I peered around the corner into the alley to see Mr. and Mrs. Harrington facing each other, arguing.”

“What were they saying?” Kevin leaned his forearms onto the desk.

“I couldn’t hear. I never knew one could fight while whispering, but fighting was what they were doing.”

I had heard whispered arguments before. What a shame Ned hadn’t been able to make out the content of this one.

“Mr. Harrington turned his back on her and began to walk in my direction. That is, back to the opera house,” Ned continued. “I didn’t want him to see me, and I pulled my head in around the corner. Mrs. Harrington yelled, ‘Justice, come back. You have to!’ I looked again, and he still walked toward me. She raised a gun in both hands and—” His voice broke. He buried his face in his hands.

Kevin looked at me. I held a finger to my lips. We needed to wait until he was composed. A full minute ticked by. Ned still didn’t speak.

“Ned,” I said softly. “What did thee see?”

He raised his head. “She shot him in the back. Three times. I saw her murder her own husband.” Twisting his hands, he searched my face, then Kevin’s. The skin bunched around his haunted eyes. “How does someone do that?”

Was Ned telling the truth? I’d never known him to dissemble nor to be experienced in theatrical arts. He certainly appeared devastated by what he’d seen. But why hadn’t he come forward immediately? Was he putting on an act deserving of the stage?

“Humans are capable of the worst, Mr. Bailey.” Kevin glowered. “Let’s start with you sitting on this eyewitness account for a full week without coming forward. How do you explain such inaction? And absconding with the gun to hide it at your home instead of bringing the weapon here as any responsible citizen would have done?”

“I was wrong to hide the gun and in error for not coming forth.” Ned pulled down the corners of his mouth, and his shoulders sank over his chest. “I had such high hopes for my new venture, and Mr. Harrington had received my proposal with enthusiasm. I’d hoped to convince Mrs. Harrington she would also want to work with me.”

“Let me guess, Bailey,” Kevin said. “You didn’t convince her. She shunned you. It was you who killed Justice Harrington. You, who then hid the gun and made up these stories against a respectable lady foreigner because she rejected your entreaties.” He stood, fists on hips, nostrils flared. “You’re only here now with your fabrications because your plans are gone, you don’t have a business partner, and you are without hope for a future.”

“No!” Ned said. “That’s not it at all. None of it. You have to believe me. Mrs. Dodge does.” He looked at me. “Don’t you, Rose?”

I waited a moment before speaking. “I am not sure what I believe. Kevin, thee might want to take thy seat again.” It looked to me as if Kevin was about to make a possibly premature arrest. And a probably false one. “I have a few more questions for Ned.”

Kevin cocked his head, regarding me, then nodded as if to himself. He lowered himself into his chair with a mighty creak.

“What happened after Luthera fired the shots?” I asked Ned.

“I quickly stubbed out my cigar and melted back into a corner of darkness as Mrs. Harrington ran past toward the opera house.”

“She ran?” Kevin asked.

“Yes.” Ned bobbed his head. “As soon as I couldn’t see her any longer, I dashed to Mr. Harrington’s side. I prayed maybe he’d only been wounded. But he was already gone. Dead.” He swallowed hard. “As I said, I hoped to continue my vision for the future with Luthera Harrington. I picked up the gun and stowed it in my overcoat pocket. I wanted to regain my plans, but I heard footsteps and hightailed it back to the opera house.”

“And the next morning thee hid the gun,” I said.

“I did.”

“Think carefully now,” I said. “Did thee see or hear anything else while thee was outside that night?”

He knit his brows. “Someone coughing. A man, I think.”

Coughing. “What time is the closing event today?” I asked Ned.

He looked at the clock. “It starts in ten minutes.”

I focused my gaze on Kevin. He returned it. He clasped one wrist with his other hand, then mirrored the action, eyebrows raised, mimicking the act of handcuffing.

I gave a quick shake of my head. “Not yet, I think. You and I need to get over to the event with all due speed. Someone must keep an eye on Ned here for the time