A Murder in Time(123)
“You rode yesterday.”
Harris gave her a look that suggested she was an idiot. “What of it? That does not preclude me riding today, Miss Donovan. I recall pointing out to you yesterday that I ride most afternoons. This afternoon was quite typical, I assure you.”
“Did anyone see you or did you see anyone while you were riding?”
“I have no idea.”
“You don’t know if you saw anyone? What, were you struck by temporary blindness?”
His face tightened at her sarcasm. “You are being impertinent, Miss Donovan, and I do not appreciate it. I did not see anyone. Therefore, I have no idea if anyone observed me.”
“Where did you go riding?”
“The woods, the same as yesterday.”
“What time did you leave the King’s Head?”
“Eleven. Mayhap half past.”
Rose had last been seen around eleven o’clock. “And you came right home?”
“Yes.”
Kendra swung around to face Mrs. Harris, who was watching wide-eyed. “Is that true?”
She gave a frightened squeak. “P-pardon?”
“When did your husband return home today?” Kendra demanded impatiently.
“I shall not have you intimidate my wife, Miss Donovan!” Harris protested.
“I’m only asking her a question. I’ll leave the intimidation to you.” Kendra approached the woman, made sure to shift her body to block the woman’s view of her husband. “Mrs. Harris, what time did your husband return home? Was it eleven or eleven-thi—half past eleven? I need you to be specific.”
“I-I . . . think . . . half past,” she said faintly. “Yes. Yes, it must have been.”
“You need to tell me the truth, Mrs. Harris.”
“How dare you!” the vicar declared.
Mrs. Harris looked on the verge of tears. “B-but I am. I am not lying, I swear!”
“Miss Donovan, I believe we have what we came for,” the Duke said quietly. Kendra threw him a desperate glance. “Come, my dear.” He approached, took her arm, and steered her toward the door.
Kendra looked back at Harris, and thought she saw triumph in his eyes. “I am sorry I could not be of more assistance, sir.”
Asshole, she thought. But that didn’t make him a killer.
Aldridge gave her a concerned look as soon as they were settled once more in the carriage. “A half an hour is not much time to abduct the maid, Miss Donovan,” Aldridge pointed out gently.
“How far is the tavern from the vicarage?”
“By horse, a few minutes.”
“If it’s so close, why’d he take a horse? Why not walk?”
The Duke frowned and shrugged. “’Tis not unheard of, Miss Donovan.”
She supposed he was right. Hell, she’d known people who drove their car across the street rather than walk. Maybe Harris was like that. Or maybe he had another reason.
“And the tavern to the castle?”
“It would depend on the pace you set. Five minutes perhaps. Less than ten. As I said, scarcely enough time to snatch the maid.”
Kendra thought of the abduction cases she’d been involved in. A mother takes her eyes off her child for a minute in a crowded mall, and the child is gone. A teenager leaves a neighbor’s house to walk down the street and disappears. Minutes. Seconds.
She shook her head. “You’d be surprised how little time it takes to change a person’s life forever.”
Like Harris’s servant, Dalton’s butler was dumbfounded to open the door to the Duke of Aldridge.
“I need to speak with Mr. Dalton,” said the Duke. “Immediately!”
“He . . . he is not at home, Your Grace.”
Aldridge lifted his brows, every inch the aristocrat. “To me, Farstaff?”
The butler looked like he was going to faint. “No, sir! I meant, Mr. Dalton is actually not at home. He left for Barking to attend the estate auction at the Avery farm.”
“We are aware of Mr. Dalton’s journey to Barking. However, I am surprised he has not returned. When do you expect him?”
“I am not privy to Mr. Dalton’s plans for the evening. He may stay the night if he is too fatigued to travel home.”
“Does he do that often?” Kendra asked.
Farstaff had recovered his poise, and now gave her that slightly suspicious, slightly standoffish look she often got from the upstairs servants at Aldridge Castle. “Sometimes,” he said.
“What the hell does that mean?” she snapped angrily, taking a step toward him. The Duke grabbed her arm, even as the butler took a step back, offended.
“Miss Donovan—”
“We don’t have time for this. He needs to answer the goddamn question!”
Aldridge shifted his eyes to the butler. “Well?”
“Mr. Dalton is attempting to transform Halstead Hall into a stud farm. He often travels overnight or several days on business in that quest, sir.”
“Did he travel alone?” Kendra struggled to get her voice under control.
“Yes, miss.”
“Is that unusual?”
“No, miss.”
She stared hard at the butler. “A young girl has vanished from Aldridge Castle. She may be in danger. Could you tell Mr. Dalton that we need to speak to him as soon as he returns?”