Chapter Four
Assuming that Baker had done a half-arsed job, Edward had spent twenty minutes combing the outside of the building, searching for clues.
A fishy smell permeated the area, indicating that whale oil had been used as an accelerant.
The wall of the building that butted up against a narrow alley had recently been rebuilt.
He’d kicked at the stones, uncovering black ash and a few chunks of charred timber.
When his toe brushed up against something that glittered amongst the black, brown, and gray, he had crouched down to unearth it from its hiding place and then lifted it to hold a plain gold button in the lone ray of sunlight poking into the alley.
Since it might be evidence, Edward had dropped the button into his pocket beside his ever-present notebook, and made his way to the front of the building.
Thereupon he had entered the gymnasium where a woman with a well-formed backside and a long red braid talked to the wall. Her chemise was visible because her blue dress was knotted around her waist.
And then Francis Valentine swung around to face him, and Edward questioned his judgement in coming.
Since he was older, more mature, and better able to control his randy beast, he knew better than to look at the nipples poking through Frances Valentine’s sweat-dampened chemise.
He would not think about her prodigious, bouncing, unbound bosom.
No sir. Not this time. He averted his gaze to stare into her emerald eyes.
Beautiful eyes.
Make that beautiful but furious eyes.
Shite! This woman looked at him as if he were Satan come to Earth. It seemed she hated him so much that she’d even remembered his name. Not that he would ever forget hers. It wasn’t every day a man got his nose rearranged by a woman half his size.
Left floundering at her acerbic question, and wanting to protect his nose, he cleared his throat, trying to come up with a witty retort that would show her how charming he was. Luckily, he was a quick thinker.
“As you can see…” He held up his lawman’s staff. “I never did become a prizefighter.” He chuckled.
She scowled.
So much for charming her with his self-deprecation. He shook off his frustration. “I heard that you had an unfortunate accident a few nights ago, and I wanted to offer—”
“Unfortunate accident?” She lunged into his space and lifted her chin, which only made it more difficult for him to avoid looking down her chemise.
“It was no accident. Someone tried to burn down our building, with us inside it.” She jammed her finger into his chest and poked him half a dozen times.
“My dear friend Harry was seriously injured. Someone hit him over the head, left him for dead, and his skin is covered with burns.”
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said in all sincerity. “But could you stop stabbing me?”
She stared at her index finger pressing into his chest. Although her aggressive posture relaxed, she did not move her hand.
“Maybe we should start over,” Edward said.
Seeming to come to her senses, she dropped her hand and stepped back.
“As I was saying—” before she’d rudely poked him to death—“I heard what happened to your gymnasium and wanted to come in person to offer my assistance.”
She stared at him as if he’d said men could fly to the moon.
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened,” he said.
One strawberry-gold eyebrow rose as she tilted her head to regard him. “If your pudding-headed partner had listened to us, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself now.”
Baker was such an arse. When Edward returned to the office, he would throttle the man. Hell, he’d do more than that. He would lodge a complaint with the magistrate.
“Baker is not my partner,” Edward said.
She squinted at him as if confused.
“Baker came into my office earlier today to tell me what happened and explain he’d been assigned to the case,” Edward said.
“He mentioned that two women and a well-known coach owned the building and that arson was involved. I made the connection, and after I confirmed that it was your building, I wanted to do what I could to help you.” Best not to mention that Baker was an incompetent, misogynistic blowhard.
Now that Edward had said it out loud, he realized how impulsive his response had been.
He had no authority to interject himself in this investigation, and it wasn’t as if he had a friendship with Franny or her business partners.
His concern seemed quite irrational. Damn his honesty to hell when it made him divulge information he had no desire to share—such as a five-year fascination with a woman who detested him so much that she had broken his nose.
He was pathetic. No wonder she disliked him. He should turn around, walk away, and mind his own business. And he was about to do just that when he heard the door behind him open.
Franny’s gaze slid to whoever had entered, and her face lit up. Thunderation, her smile was pretty, genuine, and downright sweet. He’d be thrilled if she ever turned that delighted expression on him.
“If you will excuse me,” she said. “I believe I have new students who are here to learn about my gymnasium.”
She stepped around him and approached the three women.
The oldest of the group, as well as a short brunette, tutted.
A pretty little blonde shifted her weight back and forth uncomfortably.
Edward would wager his hard-earned blunt they were not there to learn about the sweet science, since the gray-haired woman held what looked like a Bible to her bosom.
Unfortunately, he had to pass by the women to reach the exit. ’Tis none of your business, you fool, he berated himself as he stuck to the outskirts of the room. Still, he eavesdropped because Franny’s downcast eyes and red cheeks broke his heart.
“Good heavens. Dressed like that! And in the company of a man,” one of the women said. “The vicar is correct. This is a den of wickedness.”
Franny crossed her arms over her chemise as if she were embarrassed by being caught in the middle of a workout in her own gymnasium.
No way in hell would he allow these women to shame her. He turned on his heel. Dodging exercise equipment, he charged across the room.