Murder in the Early Hours by Blythe Baker

Author:Blythe Baker [Baker, Blythe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

Throughout the rest of the party, Helen introduced me to more of Alexander Lockwell’s friends, despite my protestations. And like he’d said, Alexander kept a very impressive group around him. They all came from good families and had many connections in society they were not ashamed to bring up unprompted and often.

However, rather than encouraging these conversations, Alexander seemed insistent upon interrupting them. Time and time again, the gentlemen Helen introduced me to were suddenly flagged down by our host. More curiously, each one excused themselves for what they referred to as “business.” I tried to ask Helen what that could mean, but she shrugged and wouldn’t even hazard a guess.

When Mr. Lockwell pulled the fifth man away—the first one I’d had even the vaguest interest in due to his knowledge of local crime—I gave up conversing, left Helen with a dark-haired man on the dance floor, and made my way to the refreshment table. Once again, Mr. Lockwell had procured libations for the entire party with no concern at all about the legality, and I grabbed a flute of champagne from the collection of them near one end.

“Amazing he can pull these off, don’t you think?”

I turned and saw a man who stood at just my height with short red hair and ruddy cheeks. His eyes were the only feature about him that didn’t look as though the painter had muddied the colors. They were a shocking green that had me blinking in surprise.

The stranger must have mistaken my expression for confusion because he clarified. “The party, I mean. It’s amazing Mr. Lockwell can pull these parties off at such frequency.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Well, actually, this is only my second time in attendance. Does he host these often?”

“A few times a month,” he explained. “Once a week at least.”

“He must be even wealthier than I thought. Do you know him well?”

I was tired of talking with men, but something about this particular one struck me as familiar. Familial, almost. He looked nothing like my own brother had, but he smiled warmly and kept a safe, comfortable distance that made me want to hug him and force him to escort me around for the rest of the night.

He nodded in answer to my question. “I’ve known Alexander since his arrival in New York.”

“He came from London, correct?”

He tightened his mouth and nodded, looking as though he didn’t really want to answer.

“I’m sorry,” I said, waving a hand above my head as though to clear a mental fog. Then, I extended it to him. “Alice Beckingham.”

“Walter Miller,” he said, his affable smile back in place. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Beckingham.”

We smiled at each other in greeting, and then I once again broached the subject of Alexander’s wealth. “My aunt told me she believed Mr. Lockwell made his money in art dealing.”

Walter’s expression remained calm, but his green eyes seemed to turn an even more shocking shade. “And who is your aunt?”

“You wouldn’t know her,” I said quickly, lying. “She doesn’t leave the house often, but manages to keep herself well-informed.

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