“It’s nothing special. Small and rather quaint. She could use a house sitter. You would be doing her a favor.”
Her pride flared up, threatening to consume her.
“Oliver didn’t do this,” she insisted. Tears pricked at her eyes.
“I agree with you,” he said with conviction.
And so she accepted his hand and climbed into the carriage.
The painter’s studio was a short walking distance from the fairgrounds, barely two blocks from the entrance to Forest Park. She could see the Ferris wheel looming in the distance.
Theo unlocked the door and then waited outside of it. She set down her carpetbag amid the palettes and canvases. The studio smelled of varnish, and it had a bed, small bathroom, and a fireplace. She couldn’t imagine what kind of wealth could afford an unused space like this. It was a bit chilly, but the blankets looked warm and cozy.
She smiled with secret pleasure.
She hadn’t eaten all day and her stomach betrayed her with a loud grumble.
“Time for a meal, perhaps?” Theo asked wryly.
She dug through her bag for a notebook. “Only so we can talk about what to do next,” she said.
They ended up at a restaurant down the street. Grace purposefully picked something outside the fairgrounds so she wouldn’t have to pay the fifty-cent entrance fee or depend on him to buy dinner. Even so, her money was growing alarmingly low. The tomato soup and ham and cheese sandwich that was placed in front of her was warm and she was suddenly ravenous. She ate it without delicacy or care for what Theo thought. He watched her with that look of detached bemusement.
“Puppy no more,” he said. “More like a mastiff.”
“Your condescension is always so attractive,” she said with her mouth full. “And may I suggest you refrain from comparing a lady—even one so below you in status—to any form of dog.”
He flushed beet red. “I’m sorry, you’re right. That hadn’t occurred to me. I will refrain from such thoughtless comparisons in the future.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“It’s fine,” she said, wiping mustard from her mouth. “I’m generally more bark than bite.”
She winked and took another large mouthful, and he snorted.
She opened her small notebook, careful not to spill soup on it as she turned to a fresh page. She wroteLIST OF SUSPECTSacross the top and underlined it twice.
“Am I dining with a detective?” Theo said.
“You’re dining with someone who loves her cousins,” Grace said. “And would do anything for them.”
“Anything?” he asked.
“I didn’t kill Harriet, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said.
“Neither did I, for what it’s worth.”
“Then who did?” she asked, pen poised above the paper.
“Isn’t this a job for the police?” he asked.
“Yes, they’re doing such a fabulous job,” she retorted. “Did you forget that they recently arrestedOliver?”
“To be fair, his actions leading up to last night do make him look like a prime suspect.”
“I know.” She sighed. “That’s why we have to find the police a better one.”
She tapped her pen on the page and examined Theodore’s striking face as he stirred his coffee.
