Chapter 7

This time, even Henry kept his mouth shut. Life as a single mother was never easy. If May had simply been the baron’s mistress, the police might have assumed she killed him to escape and start a new life. But with a child on the way, everything changed.

“What could I have possibly done while carrying his child? My entire future depended on the baron.”

Another tear fell from May’s eyes. The handkerchief in her grasp was already soaked through, utterly useless. Charlotte pulled out her own handkerchief and handed it to her.

“I wanted to cling to him, to beg him to take responsibility out of pity for me. If not, I was planning to move to a remote village where no one knew me and pretend to be a widow. At the very least, I was going to ask him for enough money to survive.

…But now that he’s gone, all of those plans are meaningless. What possible reason would I have to kill him?”

Charlotte and Henry exchanged a quiet look. I don’t think it was Miss May. I agree. Do you think she saw Robert Turove acting suspiciously? I’ll ask.

Henry cleared his throat twice before speaking again.

“Alright… then let’s change the question. Miss May, who do you think poisoned the baron?”

What is he doing?!

Charlotte quickly grabbed Henry’s arm and whispered into his ear,

“Why are you asking something weird? I told you to ask about Robert Turove’s suspicious behavior!”

“My dear Celine, you don’t seem to understand. No servant would immediately snitch on their employer’s family. You have to approach it indirectly…”

Thankfully, May didn’t seem to have noticed their bickering.

“Hah, obviously Sir Lau.”

“Sir Lau?”

Sir Lau… the one I saw? Charlotte tilted her head slightly, recalling the blond man she had seen earlier that morning. Was there something about him?

“Sir Lau is utterly devoted to the lady of the house. Despite being a knight, he acts like her personal servant, handling all sorts of menial tasks for her.”

“But he didn’t bear any grudge against the baron, did he? What does simply being loyal to the baroness have to do with this case?”

Henry’s sharp question made May fall silent for a moment. She bit down on her lower lip, hesitating, before finally speaking.

“Sir Lau… he knows. He knows that I was the baron’s mistress.”

“Ah.”

Charlotte let out a short sigh. If that was the case, he might have had a considerable reason to hold a grudge against the baron.

“I don’t know how he found out, but at some point, he started making my life miserable. I held out as long as I could, but when I finally confronted him, he said he knew everything about me and the baron. He threatened me—told me to end it before he exposed everything.”

“And did you?”

“…No.”

Charlotte didn’t say anything. Neither did Henry.

May, perhaps reading something into the silence, flushed slightly before quickly composing herself and continuing, her tone turning more brazen.

“Anyway, after that, Sir Lau started acting disrespectfully toward the baron as well. He no longer followed his orders properly, and even when he had no choice but to obey, he did so grudgingly. The only person he truly listened to was the lady of the house.”

“Did the baroness know about your relationship with the baron?”

“…She never said anything to me directly. But…”

“But?”

“But at some point, her eyes… they changed. Whenever she wasn’t smiling, her presence felt terrifying. And when she looked at me, she was always like that. She never said anything outright, perhaps for the sake of appearances, but… I’m certain she knew.”

* * *

The interrogation came to an end. The two of them moved to the adjacent room to discuss the new information they had uncovered.

“How much do you believe Miss May’s words?”

“Half of it, but not the other half.”

“…What a careless answer.”

“It’s also the most cautious one.”

Henry said this as he picked up a steaming cup of tea.

“In the end, we didn’t get any information about Robert Turove.”

“But we did learn something else.”

“Are you suspecting Sir Lau?”

“I think he’s worth investigating.”

“And what about Robert Turove?”

Charlotte continued firing questions. In the midst of her relentless questioning, Henry kept trying to find the right moment to take a sip of his tea—only to fail each time. In the end, he set the cup back down without taking a single sip.

“He also needs to be investigated separately. But we can’t summon and interrogate him based on mere suspicions alone.”

“Why not?”

“…Because he’s a noble.”

“Oh, right. A noble.”

Charlotte fell silent, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth. Henry, as if to say I understand how you feel, slid a plate of biscuits toward her. She picked up a cookie and bit into it with a satisfying crunch. The rich, buttery flavor filled her mouth. Henry watched her for a moment before shrugging and continuing.

“My men can investigate his financial situation and various activities. In the meantime, we should have a talk with that knight. We can’t afford to overlook anything.”

Charlotte absentmindedly dusted off the cookie crumbs from her fingers and almost nodded—until she froze. We?

“We?”

“Yes.”

“And who exactly is we?”

Henry answered with a completely nonchalant expression, as if the question itself was unnecessary.

“You and me, of course.”

“…It’s Charlotte. Sorry. No, wait, that’s not the point. Why would I go with you?”

Charlotte’s voice rose in disbelief. Why me? She had no intention of getting involved in the investigation any further. In fact, she had already crossed the line by interfering this much, going against the director’s instructions.

It was enough for her to confirm that the police weren’t suspecting Lucy. That alone had been worth it. No matter where the investigation led from here, as long as it didn’t point to Lucy, it was fine. Lucy was not the culprit.

Her husband—an unfaithful scumbag, sure—was dead, and that alone was enough to put her through hell. If the police, even mistakenly, started investigating her, Lucy might completely break down.

“I have no reason to go with you.”

Henry looked genuinely taken aback.

“Why… why not?”

His blue eyes wavered slightly, but Charlotte remained firm, rising from her seat.

“That’s the job of an investigator. I’m a forensic doctor, not a detective.”

“But Miss Cillon, just moments ago, we had such a great partnership—”

“I have my own work to do. If you want my cooperation in the investigation, then go through official channels and request it from my director.”

Of course, even if such a request were made, the director would never approve it. Back when the autopsy facility was under the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police Department, the police used to summon forensic staff whenever they pleased, making them run errands without a second thought. The director had endured those humiliations firsthand, and now that the facility was completely independent, she rarely agreed to send personnel unless it was an exceptionally serious matter.

Henry knew this all too well. He nodded bitterly, took a sip of his now-cold tea, and pushed the cup aside. Then, with clear disappointment, he gazed at Charlotte in silence.

He didn’t show it outwardly, but he genuinely thought Charlotte had remarkable investigative instincts. She had picked up on Robert Turove’s suspicious behavior, and her keen observation skills had led to uncovering the maid’s pregnancy. Soon, they would have to summon Robert for questioning. Having Charlotte there would make the process significantly easier. Interrogating a noble was always a headache, and Henry could already feel the stress creeping in.

But if she refused, there was nothing he could do. The mere thought of questioning Robert Turove made his stomach churn. He could already tell it was going to be a long, painful ordeal. A stiff drink would probably be the only solution, as usual. Though he felt like he was irresponsibly dumping this problem on his future self, he simply shook his head and stood up.

As Charlotte rose to follow him, she happened to notice the black ink stains on Henry’s palm. She tilted her head slightly. Why is that there? Most people wiped their hands immediately after writing, especially those who didn’t spend their entire day handling documents. It was odd to think the ink had simply been left there from earlier.

Then again, he’s not exactly an ordinary person.

Charlotte recalled how, despite repeatedly correcting him, Henry stubbornly continued to call her by the wrong name. She twisted her lips into a wry smirk. What made it even funnier was that his mistakes weren’t entirely off—just close enough to be irritating.

Charlotte considered various reasons why Henry might have ink on his hands before simply pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and handing it to him. Since she had already given her usual handkerchief to Miss May, she had no choice but to offer him the embroidered lady’s handkerchief with her name stitched onto it.

“Here, wipe your hands.”

Henry accepted it and stared at it for a moment before speaking in an oddly serious tone.

“Miss Charlotte, I understand your feelings, but… well… we haven’t known each other for very long, and before exchanging something like this, perhaps we should take more time to—get to know each other better—”

Charlotte blinked, confused for a second, before realizing what he was insinuating. Her face twisted in sheer disbelief as she snatched the handkerchief right out of his hands.

“I should just throw it away.”

“It was a joke, Miss Charlotte. Would you kindly let me wipe my hands before you do that?”

Henry chuckled and smoothly took the handkerchief back from her. Charlotte had never hated seeing her own name stitched onto fabric more than she did at that moment.

A lady’s embroidered handkerchief was often exchanged as a token between lovers. It was also a subtle way for someone to express interest in a person they admired. It had been so long since Charlotte last attended a social gathering that she had completely forgotten about that particular custom.

“By the way, why do you have ink on your hands?”

Deciding that the handkerchief was as good as ruined, Charlotte figured she might as well satisfy her curiosity in exchange. It was a fine silk piece with gold-thread embroidery—an expensive item—but since she had already decided to discard it, she conveniently ignored the fact that a skilled laundress at her estate could likely clean it.

Some inconsistencies in logic were best left unexamined.