Jane arrived at the club where, a couple of days ago, one of the won who once worked here had fallen victim. A place where Agnes Holloway worked. She noticed a bald man make his way to the front of the entrance, and he offered a bow.
"I am Mr. Fletcher. I heard you wanted to talk to about sothing?" Mr. Fletcher inquired, who was the manager of the club.
"I am Jane Reinhart, a detective who is working on the scarecrow case," Jane introduced herself with a bow, and the man bowed back.
"Would you like to co in?" Mr. Fletcher asked, while Jane observed the place and the people walking around. Won especially gave her a look of disdain, which she brushed away.
"No," Jane replied, not knowing if the person in question would be inside. She said, "It isn’t going to be long. I just wanted to ask you about one of the employees who works here."
"And who would that be?" Mr. Fletcher asked with curiosity.
"Agnes Holloway. She works here, doesn’t she?" Jane questioned, and the man nodded. She then continued, "How long has it been since she started working here?"
Mr. Fletcher wore a thoughtful expression as if recounting, and he answered, "Probably three or four years. Did sothing happen?"
"No, I was only curious about her with so others related to the case. Is she at work now?"
"She has been on leave for the last four days as she had to go to Corby to work."
"She works sowhere else too?" Jane didn’t have this information.
"Well, yes. She mainly works at Frontier Opera House. She has to feed herself and her young brother," Mr. Fletcher stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "She’s a very hardworking woman, and she’s always so quiet. I hope she isn’t in trouble."
"She is not," Jane smiled, and then asked, "May I have her address so that I can et and speak to her. I have so questions to ask her."
After getting Agnes’s address, Jane left the place in her carriage.
"Miss Jane?" the coachman woke her up. "We are ho."
"Ho?" Jane woke up with heavy eyes.
As exhaustion weighed heavily on her from the previous day’s journey and the night of work, Jane had forgotten to instruct her coachman where to take her, leading him to bring her to Reinhart’s residence.
"Oh," she realised, rubbing her eyes as she stepped down from the carriage, a yawn escaping her lips.
The coachman looked at her with concern. Since the caretaker’s passing, his lady had withdrawn from interacting with others. "Milady, you should rest tonight. You’ve been working tirelessly," he urged.
"Don’t worry about , Eli. I’ll be fine," Jane reassured him with a tired smile. "Although you may be right. I could use so rest."
With Martha gone, Jane found the house to be quieter and less like ho. She missed her dearly. The funeral had been a solemn affair, attended only by Jane and the priest, as Martha had no family of her own. It was strange to Jane, how her mother had first left her. Then her father, and now Martha.
After finishing her supper, Jane’s servant entered the living room where she was seated and delivered a ssage.
"Milady, there’s a call for you. Soone by the na Mr. Wood. He called yesterday and the day before yesterday too."
Approaching the phone, Jane picked up the receiver and greeted, "Hello?"
"Lady Jane, I was worried when your maid ntioned you weren’t ho from the funeral. It is a relief to hear you now," Ricardo’s voice ca through the receiver, concern evident in his tone. "Are you alright?"
Jane gripped the telephone tightly at his question, feeling a pang in her heart. "I am. You didn’t have to worry about . Pardon for not leaving a ssage behind for you. Things happened suddenly and it slipped out of my mind," she replied softly.
"There’s no need to apologise, senorita. If you need company, let know. I’ll be there," Ricardo offered, his concern genuine and comforting.
"Thank you," Jane murmured, touched by his understanding despite her not having inford him about Martha’s death. She realised her maid must have relayed the information when he initially called.
"You must be tired. I will talk to you when you are free. But rember, if you need sothing, you can ring always," Ricardo said, his voice gentle and reassuring. Jane murmured another thank you before they exchanged goodnight wishes and hung up the phone.
When Jane’s head hit the pillow, sleep was quick to co, and she was taken to a dreamless sleep. She slept until nine in the morning, as fatigue had caught up. Rising up in her bed, she looked at her room door, rembering the tis Martha stepped in through it with a tray to give her juice when she was little, which had later switched to tea.
Once Jane was ready, she left for Agnes’s house, and when she reached there, Addison had already arrived. He offered her a bow, and she gave him a nod.
"Good morning, Miss Jane. Did you rest well?" Addison inquired politely.
"Good morning, Addison. I did," Jane replied, checking the address that she had written down from Mr. Fletcher yesterday.
"It is the green house from what you said on the phone," Addison pointed to the house on the right side of the road, which was small.
"Alright then," Jane confird the number, and they made their way to the house.
Upon reaching the door, Jane took the initiative to knock. They waited patiently until it was opened by a young woman.
"How may I help you?" the woman asked.
"I’m Jane Reinhart, and I’m looking for Agnes Holloway. May I speak with her?" Jane inquired, hoping this was the right address.
The woman shook her head. "I think you have the wrong house, miss. There’s no one by that na living here."
Jane’s eyebrows furrowed. "This is house number thirty?"
"It is. I’ve lived here all my life with my grandmother, and I’m certain there’s no woman nad Agnes Holloway around here."
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