Obsidian Dagger Secrets

Chapter 2: The Widow's Alibi

The grandeur of Montague Manor had faded into the background as Detective Aidan Blackwood continued his investigation. 

Mrs. Amelia Montague stood before him, her gaze shrouded with sorrow, but Blackwood's eyes remained keen, searching for any glimmer of deceit.

"Mrs. Montague," he began, his voice measured, "I understand that you were shopping at the time of your husband's murder. Can you provide the names of the shops you visited and anyone who might corroborate your alibi?"

Amelia hesitated, her gloved fingers clenching the handkerchief she held. 

"I went to several shops on the High Street, but I didn't speak to anyone I knew. You see, I was in a hurry."

Blackwood's intuition pricked at him. "A hurry, you say? For what reason, Mrs. Montague?"

She glanced around the room, as if seeking refuge in the opulent surroundings. 

"It was to prepare for the soirée we were hosting tomorrow night. Edgar had been quite insistent on everything being perfect."

Blackwood nodded, taking note of her response. "And you have no one who can confirm your whereabouts during the time of the murder?"

Amelia shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears. 

"I left our maid, Martha, to oversee the preparations. She can attest to my absence."

Blackwood's gaze shifted to Constable Harris, who stood nearby, a quizzical expression on his face. 

"Harris, I want you to find this maid, Martha, and verify her account. Mrs. Montague, please remain in the vicinity. We may need to speak with you further."

With a determined nod, Harris exited the room to carry out his task. 

Blackwood turned his attention back to the widow. "Mrs. Montague, I'm sure you understand the gravity of this situation. Your husband's murder is a grievous matter, and we must leave no stone unturned in our pursuit of the truth."

Amelia nodded, her tears now flowing freely. "I want justice for Edgar, Detective. He was a good man. Someone must pay for this."

"Rest assured, Mrs. Montague," Blackwood reassured her, "I will do everything in my power to bring the guilty party to justice."

As they awaited Constable Harris's return, a sense of unease hung in the air. 

Blackwood knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving, and in this labyrinth of wealth and privilege, secrets could hide in plain sight.

It was then that Harris returned, his expression grave. "I've spoken with the maid, sir. She confirms Mrs. Montague's alibi. She was indeed away during the time of the murder."

Blackwood nodded, his mind racing. "Very well, Harris. Mrs. Montague, I apologize for any inconvenience. We may need to speak with you further in the coming days. Please make yourself available."

With a nod of acknowledgment, Amelia Montague withdrew, leaving Blackwood and Harris to contemplate the enigma before them.

"Sir," Harris began, "what do you make of her? Is she telling the truth?"

Blackwood's eyes remained fixed on the door through which the widow had departed. "She may be telling the truth, Harris, but appearances can be deceiving. In a case like this, we must consider every possibility."

As the rain continued to fall outside, the detective's thoughts churned with questions and doubts. 

The investigation into the murder of Edgar Montague had only just begun, and the path to the truth was bound to be a treacherous one, filled with unexpected twists and turns.