Murder in Material Gain: A Doyle & Acton Mystery by Anne Cleeland

Author:Anne Cleeland [Cleeland, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

After her doctor’s appointment, Acton dropped-off Doyle at Mary-the-nanny’s for a visit, whilst he went into the office to catch-up on things. Mary lived with her husband, an up-and-coming MP, in a posh little flat in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, just around the corner from Doyle’s own flat.

Doyle had first met Mary when the young woman was a witness in a homicide case, and Doyle had known immediately—in the way that she knew things—that their lives were fated to be intertwined. In a strange way, Mary’s life-story was somewhat similar to Doyle’s, in that they’d both been vaulted from a scratching existence into a life of luxury, thanks to their unexpected marriages.

And—again, in a similar fashion—the happily-ever-after had featured a few bumps in the road, here and there. Once the target of corrupt people, Mary’s husband had gone into politics with an aim to reform the aforesaid corruption. Unfortunately, he’d run up against the natural inertia of government, and had been forced to make some compromises, out of practical necessity. Doyle knew that Mary was uneasy about the nature of those compromises, even though Doyle didn’t know the specifics—politics had never much interested her, as it all seemed rather purposefully complicated, and she was someone who liked to keep things simple. And at the simplest level, when it came to politics, things were very similar to that thousand-years mindset at Trestles; everyone was trying to raid everyone else’s sheep, and get clean away with it.

Since it was just the two of them, Doyle prepared a cup of hot water with cinnamon sticks for Mary—since Mary’s neighbor had told her this was guaranteed to induce labor—and Doyle took the opportunity to brew herself a cup of coffee, since she was the one manning the kitchen, and no one would be the wiser.

“Thank you,” said Mary gratefully, as Doyle carefully handed over the hot cup. “Although you shouldn’t be waiting on me, Lady Acton.”

“Such a pack of nonsense, Mary; you must put your feet up, when you’ve a chance, because there will be precious few opportunities to do so, goin’ forward.”

Mary smiled, as she waited for her cinnamon concoction to cool. “It’s a bit easier, with Gemma going back to school in the mornings. And, of course, Lizzie’s been so very helpful.”

Doyle paused, mid-sip. “Lizzie? Lizzie Williams?”

“Yes—ever since she’s been helping Nigel on his project, she’s been so sweet, when she comes over; she helps me cook, and runs the odd errand, even though she’s got her own baby at home to mind.”

Doyle blinked, as this was unexpected, and in no small part alarming. Lizzie Mathis—now Lizzie Williams—worked in the Scotland Yard forensics lab, but even more to the point, she was one of Acton’s henchmen—or henchwomen, more properly—and Doyle had long since learned that the young woman’s unexpected presence was a sure and certain indicator that Acton was in the midst of masterminding some scheme. And there could be little doubt that such a scheme was afoot;

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