Free The Frankenstein Murders by Kathlyn Bradshaw

much planned. Henry’s murderer had a clear purpose and waited only for an opportunity. Had Henry made it to the Orkneys alive, the murderer would most definitely have sought out his friend elsewhere.
    â€œMy shock at Henry’s murder only increased when it was stated in the newspaper that his friend Victor Frankenstein was arrested for the crime. Some time after, I read another short notice that Victor Frankenstein had been acquitted of the crime, but the true identity of the murderer remained unknown.”
    I requested copies of these newspaper articles, should he have retained them.
    â€œYes, I’m certain I kept them. I will look for them first thing in the morning and send them on to you at your inn.”
    Once the business of discussing Henry Clerval’s murder had passed, we sat in a companionable silence for a few moments, reflectively sipping our drinks. Coming out of his reverie, Lyall Peacock pressed me to tell him more about my investigation, admitting a true curiosity about my profession. The intimately personal nature of most of the cases in which I have been involved make it impossible to discuss the details. Both Sir Arthur Gray and the clients expect complete discretion, much as is the arrangement with the Clerval case, and so details must be kept in the strictest secrecy. Those who have charged me with an investigation generally have no wish for any publicity of the matter. To avoid disappointing my host, yet not breaking the confidence placed in me by Sir Arthur Gray, I felt I could indulge Peacock by telling him of a case I had investigated many years earlier. The client had since passed away, and her family was not likely to be indisposed by thetelling of the tale. He gave me his most solemn word that he would speak to no one of the matter, and I could see in his face that he craved to know more.
    My employer had as a client a certain wealthy widow who lived alone on an estate outside of London. The widow led a quiet life and had no great pleasure except her vast collection of jewellery. Every year she would add a few more carefully chosen pieces to her collection. The jewels were never worn outside her house, and were for her personal enjoyment alone. She had a large ornate jewellery cabinet of sturdy oak made, with a multitude of flowers carved on the doors, and each small drawer lined in the finest velvet to cushion the jewels. The cabinet was built sturdily with a large lock, and its only key the widow wore at all times on a strong chain about her neck. The jewels were removed from the cabinet only when she had locked herself in her room, whereupon she would open the drawers one at a time in order to admire her sparkling pieces.
    One day, she discovered one of the jewels missing, and, not long after that, another and another. The widow questioned her staff thoroughly, but neither they nor she could discover by whom or even how the jewels had been stolen. The widow wanted neither her collection nor the thefts made public, and so she appealed to Sir Arthur Gray, who in turn asked me to investigate the thefts. I went to the widow’s home and studied the jewellery cabinet, her room, as well as the rest of the house and gardens for evidence of burglary. She had a large staff of loyal servants who had been with her husband’s family for many years, and the grounds of the manor were patrolled nightly by the groundskeeper and his dogs. No intruders had been spotted, none of the doors or windows had been left open, and none had been broken. The widow had begun to believe that the spirit of her dead husband, possibly outraged at her frivolous waste of his fortune, was taking her jewels.
    For three nights, I posted myself outside the door to the widow’s bedroom while my assistant stayed outside the house, just below her window. No one could enter or exit the room without our knowledge. Nothing untoward happened on the first two nights, except that the widow woke repeatedly in the