She turned over the thoughts in her head, playing with her pocketbook in her lap. Dear Oliver was always generous. Always willing to bring in people to the inner circle. But perhaps he had gone too far with Harriet.
Perhaps bringing her into the elite inner circle had gotten her killed.
When the next song ended, they made their way down the stairs to intercept Ethel as she took a break.
Ethel startled a little to see them approach, but quickly recovered.
“Ah. We meet again, Gretchen,” Ethel said, eyeing them with suspicion.
“Grace,” Grace corrected. “And this is my friend, Mr. Theodore Parker. You might remember him from the Luchow-Faust the other night, as well.”
“Not to be rude, but I didn’t realize we were opening rehearsals up to the public,” Ethel said. She arched an eyebrow.
“We had to pull a few strings,” Grace said.
“That desperate to hear me sing?” Ethel asked.
“And we were hoping to speak to you about something. Privately.”
Ethel held their gaze. Then inhaled.
“Is it about Harriet Forbes?” she asked quietly.
Grace took that as an invitation to plunge ahead. “You might have seen that Oliver Carter was arrested on suspicion of Harriet’s murder.” She swallowed. “I’m Oliver’s cousin. He didn’t do this.”
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with me.” Ethel’s eyes darted toward the man doing the sound check, and he began striding toward them.
“You were there that night Harriet died.”
“And I’ve already told the police everything I know.”
“But there was another night I’d like to ask you about. Please.”
It wasn’t merely Grace’s imagination that Ethel’s eyes looked bruised and hollow. The makeup couldn’t quite hide it, now that they were this close. She hadn’t been sleeping. If Grace were a betting woman, she would say that Harriet’s death had impacted her. But the question remained—was it out of grief or guilt?
Theodore shot Grace a wordless look that she was learning to interpret. He was offering to pull out his wallet again. But she didn’t want to have to rely on his cash and connections at every turn. And Grace could tell that this was a woman who could not be bought. This time, it would be up to her.
“Listen. I don’t have anything to offer you, I know that,” Grace said quickly as the man approached them. “I have no money. No connections to help your career. All I can do is appeal to your better nature. An innocent man is being held. A man I love as dearly as a brother. If you had information that could set him free, would you give it?”
Ethel sighed. She held up a hand to keep the approaching man at bay. “Fine. My backup singers are practicing this song. You have three minutes until they’re done.”
One of them hit a wrong note and Ethel turned to glare at her.
“Or perhaps four,” she said sardonically.
Grace pulled out her notebook. “That night we first met at the Luchow-Faust,” she said quickly. “You and Harriet both performed, and Sam Whitcomb mentioned that someone important was there. A talent manager, looking for someone’s career to invest in.” She spoke quickly, but she was watching Ethel’s reaction the whole time. Ethel remained impassive, her face not betraying a single twitch. But she was an actress, after all, Grace reminded herself.
Grace continued: “When Harriet exited the stage, she was approached by a man who wished to speak to her.”
“Yes,” Ethel said slowly. “I saw that.”
Grace’s pulse sped up. “Did you recognize the man?”
Ethel shook her head. “I did not.”
Grace was undeterred. “But did you get a good look at him? Could you describe him? Or recognize him again if you saw him?”
“I didn’t get a good look at him. And I don’t know his name.” Ethel hesitated. “But I can tell you who he was with.”
