Adam turned to her, took both her hands, and spoke in a gentle voice. "I vow I would lay down my life before I'd ever let anyone harm you."
What woman could be unaffected by such a proclamation? She nodded, and he helped her from their coach. Having Adam by her side as she entered the tea company made her feel invincible—but still upset about having to be so close to her uncle's killer.
"I know you're nervous," he said, "but force yourself to act normal. Ignore him if you'd like, but don't be transparent."
Upstairs, he faced Ashburnham and spoke with confidence of one born to command. "Adam Birmingham to see Mr. Faukes." (She was so proud of her husband.)
Nodding, the clerk left his desk and went into his employer's office, this time leaving the door open. Seconds later, he exited as his employer came to the door to issue a greeting. "Do come in, Mr. and Mrs. Birmingham."
Adam was sure to close the door before he sat at the sofa.
"What can I do for you today?"
Adam produced the note. "Did you send this to Mr. Hastings?" he asked in a lowered voice.
Faukes' eyes squinted, then he took a pair of spectacles from his pocket and read the letter, his brows drawn together as he frowned. "I never saw it before, never sent it—even if it does look like my handwriting."
Adam pressed his index finger to his lips, tossing a gaze toward the door.
Faukes nodded, then lowered his voice. "Not only did I not write it, I've never been in Simon's house. There was no need. We saw each other every day, six days a week."
He examined the letter once more, shaking his head. "How in the devil could someone have copied my handwriting so accurately? Unless . . ." His gaze darted to the door to the outer chamber, but he clamped shut his mouth and did not continue.
"Does Mr. Ashburnham sometimes sign your name for you when you're busy—or out of the office?" Adam asked.
"As a matter of fact, he does."
"Was it his custom to also forge Mr. Hastings' signature?"
Faukes nodded. "We both trusted him. He's been employed here for ten years. Never has a penny gone missing."
"I understand. It's imperative that one has employees who can be trusted."
"Dear God!" Faukes exclaimed. "Was this Sunday the night Simon died?"
Adam and Emma both gravely nodded.
Faukes' face blanched. "Was Simon murdered?"
Adam once more pressed his index finger to his mouth and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "We believe he might have been."
"And the murderer's trying to plant evidence to implicate me?"
"We believe that may be the case," Adam responded.
"It wasn't me," Mr. Faukes said. "Simon was my friend."
"We didn't think it was you," Emma reassured him.
A vicious look surged across Mr. Faukes' face. "That vile clerk! I can't even send him packing since he's now half owner!" He peered at Emma and spoke pleadingly. "You must challenge the will. "
"We have," she said.
Faukes closed his eyes as if he were in pain. "How am I to work with him when I know he's a murderer, know that he's murdered my closest friend?"
Adam continued speaking in a low voice. "You must pretend you know nothing, that you suspect nothing."
A pained expression on his face, Faukes nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help with this nasty business?"
"Can you tell me if Ashburnham's the only person in the company who addresses the shipping labels?" Adam asked.
"Yes, he's the only one."
Adam stood. "We're going to see if we can conduct a search of my wife's uncle's office now."
"Your timing couldn't be better. Ashburnham's planning to move into Simon's office tomorrow."
"I suspect he's already destroyed anything that might point to his guilt," Emma whispered, "but we're going to have a look."
Faukes wrote his home address on a piece of paper and handed it to Emma. "If you ever need to see me in private."
When they left his office, Adam explained to Ashburnham, "My wife would like to recover her letters and any other personal objects from her uncle's office, if you have no objections, Mr. Ashburnham."
"Be my guest," he said. What his voice lacked in malice, his glare made up for.
A cold shiver snaked down Emma’s spine as she swiftly moved away from the man's chilling presence.
Her uncle's office was considerably tidier than his library. All of his papers were confined to the large desk which was placed close to the tall casement. "Shall I do the top while you start on the drawers?" she asked.