An Improper Death (Dr. Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries Book 2) by Paula Paul Read Free Book Online Page A

reasonably clean. He left Morton to see to his luggage while he walked the short distance down a street called Griffon to the office of the local constable, a Mr. Snow. It was best to give the man the courtesy of a visit and explain his business in Newton.
    The constable was busy at his desk, but he looked up as Nicholas entered. “Good afternoon, sir,” the constable said, laying his pen aside. He drew his long, slender frame to a standing position. “May I help you, please?”
    “Forsythe. Nicholas Forsythe.” Nicholas, with his hat under his left arm, offered him his right hand. “Perhaps you’ll remember me as one of the guests at Montmarsh last year when the late Earl Dunsford met his tragic death.”
    “Ah, of course,” Snow said, shaking Nicholas’ hand. “Most unpleasant circumstances.”
    Unpleasant, indeed, Nicholas thought. The late Dunsford had been murdered in his sleep, and it was that peculiar, clever, and quite attractive Dr. Gladstone who solved the crime. Although, Nicholas could admit to himself with a certain measure of pride, he himself had been quite instrumental in helping her get to the bottom of it.
    “You’re a barrister, I believe.” Snow resumed his seat, his long white hands folded on top of his desk.
    “Quite so,” Nicholas said. “I’ve been retained as the defender for a young man from Newton-Upon-Sea accused of burglary. John Killborn, his name. Stepson of a distinguished admiral. I believe the admiral’s name is Orkwright.”
    Snow had been sitting with his head tilted back slightly so that he seemed to be pointing at Nicholas with the sharp tip of his chin. He dropped his chin and spoke. “Of course. John Killborn. I know of him.”
    “So I assumed.” Nicholas shifted his cane from his left to his right hand, still with his hat under his arm. “I regret to say he has escaped Newgate, and I thought to inquire if you had news of his being in this area.”
    “I’m afraid not.” Snow’s face was expressionless as he spoke.
    “It was Killborn’s mother, Mrs. Orkwright, who hired me. You know his family, I assume.”
    Snow hesitated only slightly before he answered. “Of course.”
    “I shall speak to the mother, certainly, but I wanted to advise you of the details first.”
    Snow’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Mrs. Orkwright is not well, I’m afraid.”
    Nicholas’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “Indeed! She seemed in fine health when she met with me last month.”
    “A month can take a toll,” Snow said. “I think it best that I speak with her and determine what she knows of the incident and then relay the information to you. An escape from prison is, after all, law enforcement’s responsibility.”
    Nicholas was momentarily stunned. Of course it was law enforcement’s responsibility, but Snow was making an effort to keep him away from the woman who had hired him on behalf of the client. Most unusual, he mused. Most puzzling. His shock had caused him to delay too long. In the next moment, Snow was dismissing him.
    “I appreciate the courtesy, Mr. Forsythe. I shall contact you in London as soon as possible.”
    Nicholas was even more puzzled. He had to think quickly of a way to stall. “Perhaps Killborn has associates here to whom I could speak, other than his ailing mother, I mean. I was thinking of—”
    “None that I know of,” Snow said, interrupting him.
    “I was thinking of some of the local criminals, perhaps. Someone you may have imprisoned here.” Nicholas was grasping for ideas, anything that could keep him in Snow’s presence. He wanted to find out what Snow was trying to keep him from knowing.
    Snow rose from his seat and took a ring of keys attached to a long metal rod from a hook on the wall and walked toward a door. “This way, please.”
    He unlocked the door, and Nicholas, a bit stunned by the constable’s abruptness, followed him down a hall to a single room where a small opening with bars gave the prisoners a view of the hall.