Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [69]
So she told Pitt only that she had been to see Vespasia, and when he looked up quickly she kept her eyes down on her sewing.
“How is she?” Pitt asked, still watching her.
“Oh, in excellent health.” She looked up with a quick smile. He would suspect if she simply stopped there. He knew her too well. “I have not seen her look in such spirits since poor George died. She is quite restored to herself again, with all the vigor she used to have when we first met her.”
“Charlotte.”
“Yes?” She raised wide, innocent eyes to him, holding her needle in the air.
“What else?” he demanded.
“About what? Aunt Vespasia looked in excellent health and spirit. I thought you would be pleased to know.”
“I am, of course. I want to know what else it is you have discovered that is making you feel so pleased.”
“Ah.” She was delighted. She had deceived him perfectly. She smiled broadly, this time without guile. “She has looked up an old friend, and I think perhaps she is very fond of him indeed. Isn’t that good?”
He sat up. “You mean a romance?”
“Well—hardly! She is over eighty!”
“What on earth does that matter?” His voice rose incredulously. “The heart doesn’t stop caring!”
“Well, no—I suppose not.” She turned the idea over with surprise, and then dawning pleasure. “No! Why not? Yes, I think perhaps it was a romance, at the time they first knew each other, and I suppose it could be again.”
“Excellent.” Pitt was smiling widely. “Who is he?”
“What?” She was caught out.
“Who is he?” he repeated, with suspicion.
“Oh …” She resumed her sewing, her eyes on the needle and linen. “A friend from some years ago. Thelonius—Thelonius Quade.”
“Thelonius Quade.” He repeated the name slowly. “Charlotte.”
“Yes?” She kept her eyes studiously on the linen.
“You said Thelonius Quade?”
“I think so.”
“Judge Thelonius Quade?”
She hesitated only a moment. “Yes …”
“Who just happens to have presided over the trial of Aaron Godman for the murder of Kingsley Blaine?”
There was no point whatever in lying. She tried evasion.
“I think their friendship had lapsed at that time.”
He shook his head with a wry expression. “That is irrelevant! Why did she suddenly renew his acquaintance now?”
She said nothing.
“Because you asked her?” he went on.
“Well, I am interested,” she pointed out. “I was there when the poor man died. I actually sat holding the hand of his widow!”
“And you don’t think she killed him,” he said with a harder edge to his voice. He was not angry—in fact there was a definite amusement in it—but she knew he would accept no argument.
“No, no, I really don’t,” she agreed, looking up at him at last. “But Judge Quade apparently was happy with the verdict, even if not with the conduct of the trial.” She smiled at him, candid finally. “It does look as if poor Godman was guilty, even if they did not prove it in the best way. But Thomas, it is just possible, isn’t it, that the fact that Judge Stafford was investigating the case again may have frightened someone so much, for some other reason, some other sin, that they killed him?” She waited anxiously, searching his face.
“Possible,” he said gravely. “But not likely. What sin?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to find out.”
“Perhaps—but I’m going back to the murder of Stafford first, and some investigation into the evidence of Juniper Stafford or Adolphus Pryce having obtained opium. I need to know a great deal more about them.”
“Yes, of course. But you won’t forget the Blaine/Godman case, will you? I mean …” A sudden thought occurred to her. “Thomas! If there were some affair, some misconduct in the case, bribery, violence, another matter involved which concerns someone powerful, an affair which would ruin someone. Then that might be a reason to kill Judge Stafford before he found out—even if it did not change Godman’s guilt. Couldn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said cautiously. “Yes, it’s possible—just.”
“Then you’ll look into it?” she urged.
“After Juniper and