No.
“Describe what you remember about him, Hester.”
Drinks liquor. I point to my hip, like a flask reststhere. Sad man.
“He had a hip flask and was drinking? Sounded unhappy?”
I make an effort to share the content of what I know, withoutrevealing how I came by the information. Helping the new coroner isn’t as badas I feared. He wants the truth, and I wish I could tell him everything. Asopen-minded as this man is, I doubt he would believe I am a Visionary.
“What did he say?” Kelly asks.
Threat. Must kill.
“Afraid of a little redhead, eh? Why?”
Blackmail.
We arrive at the crossroads between Stonehenge proper and itsoutlying homesteads. “Thank you, Hester,” Kelly says. “The police will want astatement., of course. You and Tom can go down to the Metropolitan Office together.Have him repeat what you’ve told me. Tomorrow, though. You’ve had enoughexcitement for one afternoon.”
Tom and I are not strangers to the Met. We’ve been there anumber of times over the years with other investigations. At first, theofficers considered us a nuisance. Now we’re crime hobbyists—civilians who sleuthfor the fun of it.
“She’ll need protection,” Tom says. “The killer wants hergone.”
They talk across me, discussing my fate. “Hester will have it. TheInspector should have a constable patrol the area around The Revels. Have himpass by every so often to ensure that she’s safe.”
Completely unnecessary.
Tom makes a rude choking sound. Of course it’s necessary,love. You are the moth and danger is the flame.
The harness on Kelley’s horse jangles, a cheerful noise amidsuch dark conversation. “You did well today, Craddock. I’ll send somedetectives out to scour the ravine and see if there’s anything else to find.”
The air feels frigid—like the sun is setting. I pull up mycloak hood and Tom leans in his saddle, touches my face gently. Kelly groans,turns his horse, and trots away.
I’ll visit a few of the big houses in the area, describeLady X to the servants, and see what they know. Shall we meet tomorrow evening?
Agreed.
His mouth brushes mine. Cordie’s your shadow, love, and keepthose knives sharp and handy.
Tom leaves for his family farm. He has neglected his usual workthere and must catch up tonight. Kelly whistles as we ride in the oppositedirection, and I feel at ease in his company.
“Want me to put in a word with the inspector and have Tomdeputized?” he asks.
Won’t change jobs, I sign. Loves ranch.
“Well, he’s a fine fellow. There’s just one thing I don’t likeabout him.” Kelly’s voice doesn’t sound happy. “She comes yea high to my shoulder.If not for her, Tom and I could be friends.”
My blithe attitude is temporarily diminished as blood rushes tomy cheeks. Nevertheless, I am cheered by a fleeting thought. While Tom and Kellywere off searching for my attacker, I nicked a piece of the Lady X mystery formyself, tucking it away in the pocket of my cloak, next to my lucky stones. Ismile and rub my finger against the narrow strip of gingham, torn from thepiece of evidence now hidden in Kelly’s bag.
Cordelia is not feeling cooperative this morning. Nothingnew, of course, as she’s rather outspoken for a paid companion. To her mind,the gingham material is hideous, and I must be insane for wanting more of it.
“Red and white checks?” Cordie asks again, as though the veryexistence of the pattern offends her. “You do get funny notions, miss.”
New dress, I sign.
“You’ll look like a walking picnic table.”
Picnic tables and gingham do go together. I thought the samething about poor Freckles.
My companion accepts the inevitable with a modicum of grace.“Oh, all right. We’ll go into town and look for the gingham. We have to collectyour new spectacles, anyway. I’ll go tell Willard.”
An hour later, the three of us are parked in the center ofStonehenge. The streets sound busy, and I inhale the brisk air like a woman ona mission.
I didn’t sleep much last night due to awful nightmaresinvolving Lady X, or rather, Freckles. I stood in a room of mirrors, and theghost appeared in every reflection, shrieking like a Fury, clawing at the glass.When I awoke, there was an angry scratch mark on my neck. I touch the scratchand shiver—ghosts aren’t supposed to cause physical harm. Drive someone mad,yes, but not hurt their bodies. What will she do to me in a month’s time if Ihaven’t found her killer?
Or maybe it’s nothing at all. I might even have scratchedmyself while sleeping.
Shivering even more, I am determined to meet with successtoday. Our expedition begins at the Emporium—my old stomping grounds from childhood.I can’t help feeling somewhat optimistic. The store smells of freshly groundcoffee, walnuts, and new leather. Using my cane, I walk to the counter and takeout the scrap of gingham. Cordelia stands at my elbow, ready to act as themiddleman—middlewoman—in our exchange.
“We’re interested in some material,” she says to the clerk. “Doyou have any of this on hand?”
“No. Just in summer,” he replies. “For tablecloths.”
I feel Cordie turn my way, certain that she has a smirk on herface. The know-it-all.
We move onward to the Ladies’ Dress Shop. In fact, we tromp allover creation, but there’s no gingham to be had. Obviously, Stonehenge haspassed a seasonal moratorium against it.
Close to giving up, Cordie and I visit my eye doctor and getthe spectacles.
He tells me that the glass in the replacement pair is blackinstead of the usual brown. “You’re fortunate, Miss Grayson. That’s a finer setthan most people can afford.”
This comment bounces around inside my brain, and it finallyoccurs to me that I have been approaching my task in entirely the wrong way.Lady X, a-k-a Freckles, was ‘most people.’ Her clothing budget was limited.
I turn to Cordelia and smile. You buy clothes? I sign,filled with excitement. Where? Where?
“At a secondhand place,” she replies. “If you spruce up the oldgowns, nobody can tell the difference. Unless they owned the dress before you,that is.”
Show-me-store! I ask. Show-me-store!
“What? Slow down, miss. I can’t understand.”
I try to calm myself. Show me, I sign slowly. Favoritestore.
The owner of Willoughby’s is kind
