Murder in Deep Regret: Doyle & Acton #11 (The Doyle & Acton Murder Series) by Anne Cleeland

Author:Anne Cleeland [Cleeland, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-01T23:00:00+00:00

22

Whilst Reynolds was clearing away the remains of the wreckage, Doyle pulled Acton into their bedroom so as to conduct a post-mortem out of the servant’s hearing. “Holy Mother of God, Michael—I would have appreciated a warnin’.”

But Acton only seemed mildly amused. “Acquit me of having any foreknowledge, Kathleen.”

She stared at him in surprise. “You didn’t know Martina was married?”

“I did not.”

Doyle made a derisive sound. “That’s doin’ it too brown, husband; there must be a reason you brought this wretched mish-mash together, waitin’ to see what’s goin’ to happen like some sort of upside-down morality play. Spill.”

But his response surprised her yet again, as he leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. “I was as surprised as anyone.” He paused. “With the exception of Savoie, of course.”

Lifting her brows, she regarded him in confusion. “Did you at least find out whatever-it-was that you were hopin’ to find out?”

“Not as yet.”

Crossly, Doyle observed, “Well, there’s a first, and now we’ve the battle-scars to show for it. Are you sayin’ that Savoie’s never told you he’s got some sort of history with Martina?”

“He has not.”

Doyle considered this rather alarming piece of information. “Faith—that’s crackin’ strange—and I had the impression he was teasin’ her, or somethin’, with his bridge-jumpin’ talk. It’s all we need, for Savoie to be in league with her against you.”

She intended the remark as a joke, but she saw that her husband considered the suggestion seriously, because—after all—Acton didn’t trust anyone, save his fair bride.

After a moment, he shook his head slightly. “Unlikely.”

But Doyle’s mind had already leapt to another unwelcome thought, and she ventured, “Could Martina be the one who’s framin’ Savoie? Is that why they’re crossin’ swords?”

Judging by his lack of reaction, it seemed clear that her husband had already considered this aspect, because of course he had—he was Acton, after all, and was highly motivated to discover who was trying to send the Frenchman to prison, since that road could also lead to Acton’s sharing a cell with him.

He took a slow breath. “I do not know, but I am skeptical. Martina seems to have no culpability when it comes to the money-laundering rig, and so it is unclear why she would be involved in Rizzo’s death, or in the attempt to cast blame elsewhere.”

Knitting her brow, Doyle had to agree with this reasoning. “Right. Well, that’s a relief, I suppose—Williams is in love with a bigamist, but not necessarily a murderer.”

He tilted his head in mild disagreement. “Not a bigamist; at least not as yet.”

But Doyle was not willing to give the mysterious young woman any benefit of the doubt. “She’s a two-timer, then. Three-timer, if she’s got a history with Savoie, although I suppose it’s not at all clear how they know each other.”

“No, it is not.”

Doyle eyed him. “Seems a bit alarmin’ that he hasn’t told you, Michael.”

But her husband didn’t seem as worried about this fact as his wife was. “Not necessarily; recall that Savoie operates under his own code of honor—indeed, you have experienced its effects, yourself.

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