Lestrade was finished with the room when Miss Southhall and I stepped out into the hall, though it was likely not by choice.
The door to the murdered man's room was closed, and I could hear Mr. Southhall saying that I seemed to have taken a liking to his daughter.
I flushed and refused to look Miss Southhall in the eye as I realized the woman's father was right, but heard her chuckle softly beside me.
The icy tone in Lestrade's voice snapped my attention back to the conversation going on in the other room. "Inspector Bradstreet knows better than to let personal feelings influence his work."
My head snapped up as I realized that apparently Mr. Southhall had questioned my ability to do my job without being distracted by a pretty face. My mouth went dry as Mr. Southhall spoke again.
"I hope you are right, Inspector." The man said. "All the same, I am glad to have someone with a little more experience here to handle the investigation now."
"If you will excuse me, Mr. Southhall. I have work to do." I heard Lestrade say instead of directly responding to the man's statement. He was not agreeing with Southhall, I realized. The doorknob turned and I considered bolting, but there was nowhere to run.
Lestrade raised an eyebrow at Miss Southhall and myself but did not comment. He headed down the hall toward the stairs with a short nod for me to follow.
I turned to Miss Southhall and offered her a reassuring smile. "I have to go." I said. "Don't worry. We'll find who did this."
She nodded in reply, but her eyes were worried.
I followed Lestrade downstairs, wondering if I were in trouble in spite of Lestrade's words to Southhall. Lestrade was not the type of person to speak ill of another behind his back, but it would not have been the first time Lestrade had defended one of his fellow Yarders only to turn around and subject him to a blistering lecture once the two were alone.
I tried to think of something, anything, I should have done differently, but could not.
I had not been distracted by Miss Southhall. I knew the knife had not been there before.
I only hoped Lestrade believed me.
We did not speak until we had reached the street corner. Then Lestrade turned to study me. I had no idea if he were waiting for me to speak or if I were supposed to say anything at all. So I waited.
"Is she going to be a problem?" He finally asked. I quickly shook my head.
"Whether I find the woman attractive or not doesn't change whether she's guilty or innocent." I pointed out, fully prepared for the useless exercise of defending myself. I had never heard of Lestrade being convinced that he was in the wrong in these sorts of situations.
"All right," Lestrade said, instead of pushing the matter.
I blinked. "All right?" I echoed, and Lestrade actually rolled his eyes at me.
"I know you, Bradstreet." He pointed out. "If you say the knife wasn't there, it wasn't there. Besides," he added, with just a hint of a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes, "I have enough to do already. I'm not taking over your investigation." He hesitated for a split second. "However, if Mr. Southhall gives you trouble..."
"You think he will?" I asked, concerned.
Lestrade shrugged. "He thought I was taking over for you. He's not going to be happy when he realizes he was mistaken."
I nodded; Lestrade was right about that. I did not ask why Lestrade had not set him straight back at the house; that was simply the way Lestrade was. If you made an incorrect assumption he did not always feel the need to correct you. "Who do you think put the knife there?" I asked instead.
Lestrade shrugged once more. "Could be Southhall, could be Watson. It could have been Miss Southhall herself, to make herself look innocent." He frowned as he considered the situation. "It could be any one in the house, Bradstreet." He pointed out. "What bothers me is why."
"Why was he killed." I agreed. "The closest thing I have to a motive is that he supposedly thought Miss Southhall should agree to marry Watson, but was willing to side with her on the matter anyway."
"Who told you that?" Lestrade asked. "Miss Southhall?" I nodded. "Did you verify it with the father?" He asked, and I could have kicked myself.
"No." I admitted. "She said both her father and Watson knew that he would have done so. I did not check to verify that either."
"There's your next step." Lestrade commented. I waited for him to say something about me trusting a possible suspect simply because I felt attracted to the woman, but he did not.
I realized we were finished and headed back with a sigh; I was not looking forward to dealing with Southhall once he realized that Lestrade had not actually taken over the case. I only hoped, for his sake, that he did not decide to push the matter.
Lestrade did not particularly care for being told what to do by civilians, especially when the competency of one of his fellow Inspectors was being called into question. The incident between Lestrade and a rather wealthy gentleman who had demanded Hopkins be taken off a case in which the lad had asked a few too many uncomfortable questions about the gentleman himself was legendary.
Said gentleman had been thoroughly offended and gone to Superintendent Marshall, who had smiled at the man and said he would deal with it.
Marshall had hauled Lestrade into his office demanding an explanation, but Lestrade had never been one to back down even before his superiors when he thought he was in the right. He had explained himself in a tone of voice that made it perfectly clear that any attempt to get him to change his mind on the matter would be a waste of time. Marshall had laughed and sent Lestrade back to work.
Hopkins had stayed on the case.
Fortunately for everyone involved, Southhall was not greatly put out by my return.
"I was under the impression that Inspector Lestrade was taking over?" He asked as he let me back into his house.
I suppose I should have been offended, but there was no doubt Lestrade had been at the job a lot longer than I had. "He has a number of cases to deal with already." I explained. "I'd like to ask you a few more questions, Mr. Southhall, if you don't mind."
The man frowned at me. "You don't think my daughter killed James, do you?" He asked, his eyes searching.
I sighed. "I don't know, Mr. Southhall." I admitted. "I know that somebody put that knife under her bed between yesterday and today. Whether it was your daughter that put it there or someone else, I cannot yet say."
"But you think someone else put it there." Southhall pressed.
"I do." I said uneasily. "It doesn't make sense for her to have put it there, especially not still covered in blood. She could have simply cleaned it off and continued carrying it with her."
"So someone put it there to frame her." Southhall looked relieved. "But who? And why?"
"I don't know yet." I said again. "Miss Southhall said that her uncle thought that she should marry Mr. Watson, but that if it came down to it, he would side with her on the matter. Do you know anything about that?"
Southhall had been nodding as I spoke. "Yes, James felt that Melissa should have some say in who she married. He personally thought that it would have been a good match, but Melissa was against it. He did not think she should have to marry someone she did not want to."
"You knew this. Did anyone else?" I asked. "Did Mr. Watson?"
"I believe he did, but I cannot be completely certain." Southhall admitted. He hesitated, but forced himself to ask anyway. "You don't think Watson did it?"
I shrugged. "It's possible." I replied.
