Page 46 of Honor Unbound

“That’s outrageous!” Hicks paced the floor. “He has no call to say such a thing.”

“I notice that isn’t a denial.” Burton clenched his hands, his gaze fixed on the man.

“I…you cannot…that’s…” Hicks hemmed and hawed until his behavior became most embarrassing. I took pity on him.

“Your business with Mr. Gray isn’t any of ours,” I lied. I prodded the stray can with my stick until it emerged from under the table. “And besides, the point is now moot, with Mr. Trent dead. There is no longer a lawsuit that would require lies to defeat.” I bent and picked up the tin. I squinted at the stamp at the top. “Mutton soup. June the 9th, 1821. Sounds ghastly.”

Hicks stopped pacing. “What was that date?”

I repeated it.

“That can’t be right.” He hurried to me and took the tin, reading it for himself. “This was from the batch that was destroyed. Or should have been destroyed. I wonder how it was missed,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” Burton asked. “That is one of the tins of contaminated food?”

Hicks scratched his head. “Well, it might not be contaminated, but we know that the food that was bad was canned the week of the 7th through the 15th of that month and year. In order to be safe, Trent ordered all of the tins of that week to be destroyed. I guess this one escaped.”

“Could there be more that escaped, as you call it?” My stomach tightened. I peered beneath the table. “Could there be more contaminated tins in the hands of our military now?”

“No.” Hicks set the tin on one of the tables. “Before we sell anything, we check and double check the date stamp and it is logged in our inventory. We didn’t sell anymore tins from that week.”

I blew out a breath. Well, that was a relief. Our soldiers might get a stomachache from foul tasting food, but at least it wouldn’t kill them.

Hicks strode to one of the neat stacks of tinned food. He plucked one off the top. “Here. Take this one instead. It was canned only three weeks ago.”

I tasted something bitter at the back of my throat. “No, you already gifted me one before. I couldn’t.”

Hicks’s shoulders slumped. “They’re just sitting here. Someone should enjoy it. Please, take it.”

Not seeing a polite way to decline, I accepted with a forced smile. I said my farewells. Mr. Burton seemed loath to leave, so I prodded him with my walking stick until he gave up glaring at the manager and exited the building.

“Why did we leave so soon?” he asked. He guided me across the street and opened my carriage door. “There was much more to ask him.”

“I accomplished my purpose. We now know Mr. Gray did bribe Hicks to give testimony against Mr. Trent.” I settled myself inside and examined the tin. Salted pork. In a can. I placed the tin on the seat next to me. At least it wasn’t mutton soup.

“How do we know that?” Burton settled across from me. “He didn’t confess to anything.”

I gave him a look over my spectacles. “One doesn’t stutter that much unless one is trying to hide the truth. He came to an agreement with Gray, I have no doubt.” But did such an agreement increase or decrease Hicks’s motive to kill Trent? He’d want the lawsuit to proceed, and hence Trent living, if he was to get paid by Gray for his testimony. But if he was already angry with his employer, could Hicks have decided that killing him was the better path, that Gray might pay more to have the suit eliminated entirely?

“Hicks did seem rather distressed.” I tapped my bottom lip with my thumb. “A guilty conscience?”

Burton’s nostrils flared. “If he was the one who attacked Marie, it will be more than his conscience that will be hurting.”

I couldn’t picture that sad man holding Marie under water. As past experience had shown me, however, appearances were often deceiving. “Do you think stabbing as a method of murderindicates the crime was done more in the throes of anger or was it planned out ahead of time?” The carriage jerked forward, and I grabbed for the tin before it could fall to the floor.

Burton took the tin and slid it into his jacket pocket.

I felt a moment of envy over how deep men’s pockets were.

He leaned back on the seat. “I’d say it depends on whether the killer brought the knife, or file, with him, or whether it was already at Trent’s home.”

“It’s not likely that Mr. Trent would have a metal file lying around his study, is it?”

Burton rubbed his temple. “Not likely, but in his line of business, not impossible. We don’t seem to be able to eliminate anything or anyone. This is becoming most frustrating.”

Yes, but if the attack on Marie was any indication, we must have learned something that made the killer uneasy. I didn’t think Burton would agree that was an encouraging thought so I kept it to myself. I returned to Mr. Hicks. “If Mrs. Trent isn’t paying company wages, and now Mr. Gray has no need to pay Hicks for his testimony, I can understand the man’s distress. He might be getting short of funds.”

Burton snorted. “No wonder his wife sleeps in a separate bedroom. He isn’t much on charm or looks, and now he’s stopped providing. She might not give him an alibi out of spite.”