A Dangerous Liaison With Detective Lewis Read Online Free PDF Page B

safety is pure conjecture. For all you Scotland Yard men know, these deaths could be coincidental.”
    “William Melville, director of Special Branch, doesn’t believe in coincidence, and neither do I. Hopefully, this should all be sorted out over the next week or two, then—”
    She sat upright. “Week or two?”
    “I will have to impose upon your hospitality. I’m afraid there is no other way to get round the inconvenience of having me about. You will be questioned extensively. I want a closer look at the scene of the accident. There won’t be much preserved to investigate, but one never knows.”
    “This is ridiculous. I’m to be questioned? For what reason?”
    “There are personages in your life, recent acquaintances, possibly, who may be connected to these events. My assignment is to safeguard the heiress to the Greyville-Nugent industrial empire and oversee a homicide investigation. No stone will be left unturned.”
    Thick with unshed tears and conflicting sentiments, the air in the study stifled. Her fan was missing. She tried another deep inhale and exhale, and still her heart pounded through every part of her body. “The guests will be leaving soon. I must return to the hall.”
    RAFE FOLLOWED HER down a sweeping turn of staircase to the foyer filled with attendees. The wake did appear to be breaking up. Fanny quietly took charge, directing staff to go after hats and wraps, respectfully thanking each guest. A bit of sniffling went on along with cheek kisses and whispered condolences. Dutifully, Rafe trailed alongside or behind. Fanny made an abrupt turn and nearly ran into him.
    “Are you going to be shadowing me about and pestering me?”
    Hands behind his back, Rafe straightened. “Yes.”
    “I suppose that is what detectives do. Trail after people like . . . dogs.”
    He held a grin in check. Fanny approached a man sporting a great deal of red facial hair and handed the gentleman his bowler. The man tapped the brim of his hat in his palm. “Pardon my intrusion, but might I have a word with you both? In private?”
    Fanny darted a glance at Rafe as they retired to a shallow alcove nearby.
    The odd, intrusive fellow pulled nervously at an auburn moustache. “Did I overhear Miss Greyville-Nugent call you a detective?”
    Rafe edged closer to nudge Fanny.
    “Arthur Douglas Poole, please meet Detective Inspector Rafe Lewis.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “It seems Scotland Yard has sent a man up to investigate Father’s accident. According to Detective Lewis, I could be in some jeopardy.”
    “I’d like to keep that information quiet.” Rafe eyeballed Fanny, who in turn, rolled her eyes. “No sense worrying anyone unduly.”
    The wary chap backed away, then hesitated. “Yes, well, I’d cooperate if I were you, miss—strange goings on lately.”
    Rafe lifted a brow. “Is that so?”
    Rather abruptly, Nigel Irvine elbowed into their circle. “See me out, Fanny?”
    She accepted the offered arm. “If you’ll excuse me a moment?”
    Mr. Poole nodded to Rafe and leaned in. “I did not wish to alarm the young lady, but . . .”
    Rafe angled himself to better keep an eye on Fanny. She stood outside the door under the portico with Irvine. “But . . .?”
    “There have been several men lurking about the laboratory. James Lazar, my research partner, shooed them off again yesterday. One never knows—a gooddeal of industrial thievery about—crackpots everywhere.”
    “Are your facilities hereabouts, Mr. Poole?”
    “Why, I’m in research, Detective Lewis—at University, here in town.”
    “Would you mind if Miss Greyville-Nugent and I pay a call tomorrow? Say, late afternoon?”
    The man positively beamed—or was that a sign of relief? “Stay to your right, third building west of McEwan Hall.”
    “Look forward to it.” Rafe accompanied Poole out the entry and took up a spot beside Fanny—and a visibly disgruntled Nigel. “Why is he still here? What am I to make of this,