Chapter 10

Will took Ginny’s suggestion to heart. It would be cruel to haul Ralphy Weston up to Seething Lane Station and question him in a cold interrogation room. The poor fellow would likely freeze up and either refuse to speak or say yes to anything they posed.

So it was at Ginny’s suggestion that he decided to casually approach Ralphy in his own world, a special place where he was able to keep the rest of the world from intruding.

Will made his way to St. Dunstan’s church, then went around to the back. He intended to search for Ralphy in the large flower garden where Ginny said Ralphy fussed over his flowers and plants and blooming trees every Wednesday afternoon. If Ralphy wasn’t there, he’d go to the cemetery. That would be the next logical place. Thankfully though, Will found Ralphy in the garden and didn’t have to search further.

“Hello, Ralphy,” Will greeted as he followed the path that led him to where Ralphy was weeding a bed of pink and purple blossoms.

The man lifted his head, then got to his feet. “I know you,” Ralphy said taking a step away from Will. “You’re that inspector who thinks Wesley killed Miss Elizabeth. I don’t like you.”

“Do you think Wesley killed Miss Elizabeth?”

“No. He didn’t kill her. He’d never hurt her. He loved her.”

“What about you?” Will asked. “Did you like her?”

Ralphy shuffled his feet and rocked back and forth. “She was real pretty. And she was real nice to me. I liked her a lot.”

“Do you know who killed her, Ralphy?”

Ralphy turned and took a step away from Will. “Go away,” he said. He clenched his fists at his side and rocked sideways at a more agitated pace. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why, Ralphy? Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

Will took a step closer to Ralphy, knowing that the man would consider him a threat.

“Stay away,” Ralphy yelled.

“I can’t until you tell me what you know about Miss Elizabeth’s murder.”

Ralphy twisted his hands in front of him. “I don’t know nuthin’.”

“I think you do, Ralphy. I think you know something you’ve kept to yourself since Miss Elizabeth was murdered, and I want to know what it is.”

“No! I don’t know nuthin’!”

“Enough, Inspector!” an angry voice said from behind him.

Will turned. Wesley Fletcher stood on the path a few feet away from him. His eyes brimmed with fury.

With determined steps, Fletcher closed the distance between them. He stopped when he reached Ralphy’s side. “Go work in the graveyard, Ralphy,” he said in a gentle voice. “I want to talk to the inspector. You can come back here when I’m finished.”

“I have more questions I’d like to ask Ralphy,” Will said.

“You can ask me anything that needs answering,” Wesley Fletcher said, turning Ralphy toward the graveyard. “Go, Ralphy. I’ll talk to you when I’m done here.”

When Ralphy was out of sight, Wesley Fletcher turned on Will. The hostile glare in his eyes told Will their conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“How dare you accost Ralphy like that.”

“I didn’t accost Ralphy. I simply saw him in the garden and wanted to ask him some questions. I certainly didn’t intend to frighten him.”

“Well you made a fine mess of that.”

Will studied the expression on Fletcher’s face. “Are you afraid Ralphy might say something you don’t want me to know?”

“What I’m afraid of is that you will force him to say something that isn’t true. He gets easily confused.”

Will locked his hands behind his back and considered Fletcher’s words. “As I was going back through the notes I’d made after Lizzy’s murder, I realized that we’d never spoken to Ralphy. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Probably because Ralphy doesn’t know anything about Elizabeth’s murder.”

“Are you sure?”

Fletcher’s eyes narrowed. “If you knew Ralphy better, you’d know he’s incapable of hurting anyone.”

Will let his silence draw attention to his next comment. “Perhaps Ralphy is incapable of hurting anyone. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know someone who is capable of harming another human being. Perhaps he even knows who was capable of killing my cousin.”

The two adversaries stared at each other. In that moment, Will knew Wesley Fletcher knew more about Lizzy’s death than he was saying. Just as he knew the answer to who killed his cousin was standing before him.

“If you have nothing more to say, Inspector, I’ll be on my way.”

With that, Fletcher turned and took several steps away. Will stopped him. “Fletcher.”

Fletcher turned.

“Are you protecting him? Or is he protecting you?”

. . .

Will entered his outer office and saw Brian Randolph poring over the papers he’d assigned him to read. “Have you found anything yet?” Will asked as he walked past his secretary’s desk.

“No, Inspector. Not yet.”

Will had ordered Brian to read through the information they’d gathered two years ago concerning Lizzy’s murder. Surely there was something in there he’d forgotten that would lead them to another suspect. Hopefully, they’d considered more candidates than just Wesley Fletcher and Rodney Baker while he’d been off on the Queen’s mission and unable to stay close to the case.

“Did you speak with Mr. Baker?” Brian asked as he followed Will into his office.

“Yes, but he told me exactly what he’d said when we interviewed him immediately following Lizzy’s death. And everything he’d said then still checks out. He was at a dinner party to celebrate his mother’s sixtieth birthday. He was there the entire evening and didn’t leave until late. Then he escorted his mother and sisters home and retired for the evening.” Will sat down behind his desk and pulled out more files he’d made around the time of Lizzy’s murder.

“And even if he did go out after he’d taken his mother home, Lizzy was already dead by that time.”

“So who does that leave you with?”

Will raked his fingers through his hair. “No one, except Fletcher, and my gut tells me he’s not the killer. And Ralphy Weston. But I just don’t see it being him.”

Brian stepped close to the desk and held out another folder.

“What’s this?” Will said, taking the papers.

“It’s a new case the commissioner wants you to look into.”

Will placed the folder on the center of his desk, knowing he’d have to look into it soon. He felt the mounting pressure of unsolved cases and briefly wondered how his men were holding up, they were spread so thin. He wasn’t the only one who found twenty-four hours in a day to be not nearly enough to satisfy the demands on his time. And now this new case appeared. His commanding officer wouldn’t let him ignore a current case to spend his time looking into a murder that was nearly two years old.

But right now he needed some air.

The walk to the emporium took no time at all. He needed to let Ginny know he’d interviewed Ralphy, and that it hadn’t gone particularly well. But within moments he discovered she wasn’t at the shop.

Will nodded to Della and Lucy, then left the emporium to find Ginny.

The day was dreary and overcast. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky and looked as if they could open up at any moment to allow a drenching rain to saturate anyone caught in the open. Will hoped the rain would hold off until he could get Ginny to shelter.

He entered St. Dunstan’s Graveyard and saw her the minute he turned down the path that led to Lizzy’s grave. She knelt on the thick grass and sat with her hands folded in her lap.

“She won’t speak to me,” Ginny said when he came up behind her. It was as if she knew he was there, even though he hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t alerted her to his presence.

“That’s all right, Ginny. Perhaps she has nothing more to say.”

“But we haven’t found her killer. And if she doesn’t provide us with more clues, we may never find him.”

Will hunched down beside Ginny and reached for her hands. When they were in his grasp, he twined her fingers in his. “We’ll find him,” he assured her. “It may take us a little longer, but we’ll find him.”

“I keep hearing the desperation in her voice. The frantic pleading.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“Then why doesn’t she tell us more?”

“She will. We only have to be patient. But for now, we’d best find shelter. The sky looks as though it’s going to open up and soak us through.”

Will rose to his feet and took Ginny’s hand in his. They’d barely taken two steps before Ginny pulled out of his grasp and spun to face Lizzy’s grave.

“Find him! Now! Before he kills again!”

Will pulled back as if he’d been struck by a boulder. He heard her. He heard the voice!

“Where?” Ginny cried out. “Where should we look?”

“Hurry!”

“Where?” Ginny asked.

But there was no answer.

Will stared as Ginny dropped to her knees at Lizzy’s grave. She released a sob, then slowly lifted her gaze to look at him.

Will knew his eyes were open wide and filled with disbelief. He knew he looked as though he’d seen a ghost. But he hadn’t. He’d only heard one.

Deep furrows crossed Ginny’s forehead. “What’s wrong, Will?” she said, rising to her feet. Her hands clasped his arms. “Are you all right?”

He couldn’t answer. He didn’t have enough control of his faculties to form the words or utter a sound.

Her eyes opened in recognition. “Did you hear her?”

He wanted to tell her that he had, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Did you?”

Slowly, with jerky movements, he nodded. He’d heard the voice. It wasn’t exactly as he remembered Lizzy’s voice, but it was a voice, and it had answered the question Ginny posed.

“You heard it,” she cried out. “You heard it,” she sobbed in relief.

“Yes, I heard it.”

“You heard it,” she repeated. Tears streaked down her cheeks and Will gathered her to him to comfort her.

“Yes, I heard it.” Will said, lowering his gaze to look at her. “I heard it. You’re not alone any longer.”

“Oh, Will.”

She nestled closer to him and he rested his chin on the top of her head.

“I thought I was going insane. That was the only explanation I had for the voice I heard.”

“You’re not going insane,” he reassured her. “If you are, I’m going insane along with you.”

He felt her laugh, then she lifted her head and looked at him. “What are we going to do now?”

“We’re going to find shelter before the rain starts. Come on.”

Will took Ginny’s hand and led her from the graveyard. When they reached a shop that served tea and pastries, he escorted her inside. They sat at a table near the window as the first raindrops fell.

When a waiter had brought them tea and some small pastries, Will leaned forward with his forearms on the table. “I interviewed Ralphy.”

“You—”

“Yes. Both he and Wesley know something, but they seem to be protecting each other.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I’m going to interview them together. At the station.”

“Will, you can’t! Ralphy will be out of his mind with fear. It’s too…too cruel.” She grabbed Will’s hand that rested on the table. “Let me be there. For Ralphy. He needs someone!”

Will studied her stricken face. It was too soon to tell her. “He won’t be alone. He’ll have Wesley.”

“Oh Will, how can that possibly help? They don’t even seem to be friends! Please let me be there!”

He hated the accusing look in her eyes, the way she gripped his hand as she pressed him to change his mind. But it was the disappointment in her eyes that made the decision for him. “They don’t have to be friends, Ginny. They’re brothers.”

. . .

Will left the pastry shop and turned east toward the station. It felt wrong to leave Ginny at the shop, but she’d insisted. She had purchased a bundle of baked goods to take to the rectory. Reverend Fletcher hadn’t been able to come to dinner Sunday, and she’d given some vague explanation that she wanted to surprise him. He suspected what she really wanted to do was to lay eyes on Ralphy, to make certain he was all right.

There would be no danger of her finding him, as Will’s constables would already have rounded up the brothers. They’d be ready for interrogation by the time he reached the station. It was a short walk and he used the brief moments to organize his questions.

“Did they bring the brothers in?” Will asked when he walked past Brian Randolph’s desk.

Will entered his office and placed his hat on the hall tree in the corner behind his desk, then sat in his chair and pulled out several pieces of paper and started writing.

“Yes, I believe so.” Randolph followed Will into the room. “But you need to see this.”

“I heard the voice.”

Will watched the expression on Brian’s face turn to open shock and disbelief as he leaned against the desk.

“You heard it? What did the voice say?”

“It told us to find her killer before he killed again.”

Randolph’s face drained of color. “Then you really need to see this, sir.”

“Just leave it on my desk. I’ll read it after I question the—”

“It can’t wait, sir. You asked me for unsolved murders on September 16th of any year prior to Lizzy’s death in 1855. Here they are.”

He thrust the papers into Will’s hand.

There were multiple reports, one from each year going back easily ten years prior to Lizzy’s death. Will scanned the documents, impatient to get on with his questioning of Wesley Fletcher and Ralphy Weston.

Until a line from one of the newspaper clippings leaped from the page and froze his heart.