Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

drowning. He could scarcely bear to contemplate the scandal if the police had believed Nora’s death had been murder. Good Lord, the lurid publicity—the infamous notoriety that would attach to his business, to his reputation. It was too painful to even consider. But, thankfully, the crisis had passed and things could return to normal.
    Just at that moment, the door opened and Garrison entered again. This was quite irregular. “Yes?” Martin asked pointedly.
    “I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast, sir, but there’s a... ahem... a gentleman who wishes to speak to you.”
    “Now?” Martin was appalled at the thought. “It’s not even eight o’clock in the morning. Tell him to meet me at the factory during normal business hours.”
    Garrison lowered his head apologetically. “I did just that, sir. The... ahem... gentleman wished me to convey a message to you. He said the matter is of the utmost importance and it can’t wait.”
    “Well, who is he?” Martin demanded.
    “He did not offer me his name, sir. He merely said his business was with you, and there would be serious consequences if you refused to speak to him.”
    “Well, this is going to cause me to be late for work!”
    “Yes, sir,” Garrison agreed in a mild tone, clearly insensitive to the enormity of the offense.
    Realizing that he had no alternative but to see the fellow, Martin conceded. “Show him in, if you must.”
    “At once, sir.” Garrison bowed out the door only to return a few moments later. “The... ahem... gentleman wishes me to announce him.” Garrison stepped aside to let the visitor enter. “Mr. Desmond Bayne to see you, sir.” The butler discreetly closed the breakfast room door behind him and retired out of earshot.
    Martin had gulped down the remainder of his breakfast and coffee in the interval. He made no move to rise and greet his visitor. He merely sat and stared at him across the table.
    Bayne spoke first. “Now that’s what I call a proper introduction! Sure and it was the prettiest thing I ever heard.”
    “You’re... you’re... Irish!” Martin stammered out the nationality with the same inflection he might have reserved to pronounce the word “leper.”
    Bayne raised an amused eyebrow. “Faith, Mr. Allworthy. You’ll not be telling me you’ve never encountered a son of Erin before? All the Irish and Germans and Poles living in this great city today outnumber them that’s left in Dublin and Berlin and Warsaw taken together!”
    Martin made no reply. Instead, to his horror, he had fixated on the liberal amount of dirt under Bayne’s fingernails. He proceeded to scrutinize the stained waistcoat and tie, and the even more stained yellow teeth. He became vaguely aware of the odor of alcohol among several other even more offensive odors permeating the air in the room ever since Bayne had entered it.
    “You’ll not be minding if I take a seat, will you now, Mr. Allworthy?”
    Martin’s horror reached its apex at the thought of Bayne’s filthy overcoat coming into contact with the brocade upholstery of his breakfast room chairs. “I... uh...” He tried to stammer an objection but Bayne, in one quick motion, pulled a chair away from the table, swept the tails of his coat out of the way and sat.
    “Ah, that’s better now. It seems I’ve been standing on me feet for days. I’m much obliged to you, sir, for the respite.”
    “Please state your business, Mr. Bayne.” Martin kept his voice cold.
    Bayne took off his hat to reveal greasy black locks in need of a trim and scratched his head, as if in a quandary about how to begin. “Well, to put it plainly, sir, I’ve come to discuss the murder of the late Miss Nora Johnson.”
    “Murder!” Martin exhaled the word in shock. “Who said it was a murder? I hold in my hand a copy of a newspaper article that clearly calls her death an unfortunate accident!” He shook the Gazette in front of the Irishman’s face for emphasis.
    Unflustered by Martin’s