Free Confessions at Midnight by Jacquie D'Alessandro

slightly rumpled clothes, and dark hair that needed a trim, no on would ever accuse him of being classically handsome, although he wasn't unattractive. But he possessed an intimidating air, the sort that suggested he wouldn't hesitate to put his considerable size and strength to use if necessary. Indeed, he looked as if he'd just finished pummeling a dozen or so men into the dirt and wouldn't mind doing so again. Starting with him.
    "I'm not in the habit of kissing and telling, Mr. Mayne."
    "This is a murder investigation, Lord Surbrooke," said the Runner without the slightest change in his forbidding expression. "Not a digging expedition for gossip fodder."
    Not caring for the man's manner, Daniel deliberately waited to the mental count of ten before replying. "Blythe and I are-were-longtime friends." God, it simply wasn't possible that she was dead.
    "Just
how friendly
were you?" Mayne persisted.
    "I hardly see how that matters," Daniel said, "unless…" He lifted a single brow and shifted his gaze to Rayburn. "… I'm a suspect."
    Mayne didn't deny it, and Rayburn shot the Runner a quick scowl. "We're asking the same questions of everyone who attended last night's party, hoping that maybe someone saw something that will lead us to the killer." Rayburn withdrew a notebook from inside his jacket then asked, "Did you see anything or anyone that might be considered suspicious?"
    Daniel considered for several seconds, then shook his head. "No. The party was the usual crush. I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Do you have reason to believe the culprit was a guest?"
    "No reason to believe anything at this point except we've got a dead woman on our hands," Mayne broke in. "We've a witness who says you spoke to Lady Crawford last night."
    "I did. We exchanged a few words."
    "On the terrace?" asked Rayburn.
    "Yes." After Carolyn had departed, he remained outdoors for nearly half an hour, lost in his thoughts. Blythe had stepped outside and approached him, pulling him from his solitary musings.
    "What did you talk about?"
    "Nothing of consequence. The weather. The party. A musicale we're both invited to next week."
    "How long were you together?"
    "No more than five minutes. The air was damp and chilly and she grew cold. I escorted her back inside then left the party."
    "What time did you depart?"
    "I'm not absolutely certain, as I didn't consult my watch, but I'd guess it was approaching two a.m."
    "And where did you go?"
    Daniel raised his brows. "Here. I came home."
    "Can anyone verify that?" Mayne broke in. "Your coachman or house servants perhaps?"
    "I'm afraid not. I dismissed my carriage and driver after arriving at the party and therefore walked home. My staff was asleep when I arrived."
    "Even your butler and valet?"
    "I'm afraid so. Barkley and Redmond are not young men. I do not require them to wait for me to arrive home."
    Rayburn made notations in his small notebook then looked up. "Do you know of anyone who might wish Lady Crawford harm?"
    "No. She was a lovely, personable woman. Surely her death is the result of footpads."
    "Perhaps," Rayburn said, "although 'tis clear robbery was not the motive."
    "Why do you say that?" Daniel asked.
    "Because Lady Crawford's jewelry was intact. She wore a very distinctive pearl choker."
    An image of a triple strand of perfectly matched pearls flickered through Daniel's mind. "Did the choker have a diamond and ruby clasp?"
    Interest flickered in Rayburn's eyes. "Yes. How did you know?"
    As he had nothing to hide and they could easily find out anyway from a number of sources, including the jeweler, he said, "It sounds like a piece I gave Blythe."
    "Quite an expensive bauble to give a mere friend," Mayne remarked. "When did you give it to her?"
    "Late last year. And yes, it was quite valuable. Perhaps the killer meant to steal it but was frightened off before he could do so."
    "Perhaps," Rayburn said, jotting another notation in his notebook. "Do you know if Lady Crawford was