Murder Beside the Swift Waters (A Lillian Crawford Murder Mystery Book 7) by Blythe Baker

Author:Blythe Baker [Baker, Blythe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

9

I had fought myself all day to subdue a persistent thought that kept threatening to overwhelm all others. I had agreed to take this case on behalf of Gloria and Dorian, and my own personal life had to be set aside.

But that didn’t mean that I could entirely forget my own life, I supposed, as a letter had arrived the morning before I had gone to visit Mr. Yardley, before I dove into the investigation.

Eugene was back in London for a brief spell before he traveled to Southampton to visit with some family that had come in from America. He had asked nearly two weeks ago if we would be able to meet for lunch before he caught the train south, and I knew I could not refuse the opportunity. His letter this morning was merely a kind reminder, as well as letting me know how much he had been looking forward to our time together.

I knew my next destination, which happened to be in London proper, and as such, thought it justifiable to sit down for a bit and enjoy my midday meal. Surely no one would deny me the chance of taking in a nourishing meal…or care a great deal that it happened to be with Mr. Osbourn.

I had never been so happy to see the driver, Ronald, which I promptly told him as he opened the door to the car for me.

He gave me a grin. “Why, thank you, Miss. I am pleased you are satisfied with my service.”

“More than satisfied,” I said. “You don’t shout about ghosts with every shifting shadow.”

His grin widened. “I take it you have had a rather…difficult morning?”

I paused, regarding him. “I would say you don’t know the half of it, but I suppose I just told you the important part,” I said, before he closed the door for me.

Ronald knew the exact location of the restaurant Eugene had suggested in his letter, which was fortunate. While my understanding of the more prominent parts of London had grown substantially, I was not yet confident enough to navigate it on my own.

The Creaky Elm was on the corner of a quiet street, nestled between a seamstress’s shop and a handsome park with a small pond. Removed from the bustle of the inner parts of the city, I liked it at once with its luscious flowers in the narrow front garden of the inn, as well as the ivy that snaked up and over the trellis that framed the path. Even as late in the year as it was, life still bloomed in the roses and the sunflowers.

I bid Ronald farewell, and started toward the door to the inn. The skies overhead lay heavy and low, pregnant with rain, though it had yet to start falling, as I reached the door.

I was just about to enter when I heard my name.

“Good afternoon, Lillian.”

I jumped, my heart skipping several beats as I rounded on the tall, thin silhouette that had slipped out of the shadows of what appeared to be a covered veranda.

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