Theodore added in his own details, and between the two of them, the woman that appeared on the page in front of them was vaguely recognizable.
“Thank you,” Theo said, nodding at the sketch. “You’ve captured what we need.”
“This was a good idea,” Grace admitted as Theodore paid the sketch artist handsomely.
“I want to talk to Oliver again,” Theodore said, tucking the sketch into his pocket. “See if he might recognize the person who was following us.”
“Let’s go together, then,” she said. “I have some questions to ask him myself.”
They passed Oliver’s lawyer, Clive Marpels, on their way into the jail. Theodore spoke to the front guard in lowered tones, and then they were led once again into the interrogation room.
Oliver looked pale, but he instantly perked up when he saw them. He rose, his wrists handcuffed.
“Theodore,” he said. “Grace. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“We’ve come bearing questions that might help your case. Do you recognize this person?” Theodore asked, laying out the picture in front of him.
Oliver looked at it carefully. After a long moment, he shook his head. “Should I?”
“She was following us in the days before Harriet died,” Grace said. She watched him closely as he took in the sketch. He was quiet for a long time.
But then he shook his head. “I was so caught up in the fair, in being with Harriet. I wasn’t paying attention to anything else. It all feels like it was a haze.”
When he looked up at them, as forlorn as a child who thinks he failed an exam, Grace tried to hide her disappointment. She said, “It’s all right. We’re just exploring every possibility. And I had another thought. Why would the murderer kill Harriet in such a public place? Why do it when it would draw so much attention?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Oliver admitted.
“The only thing I can think of is that someone clearly set you up to take the fall for it. They put something in Harriet’s drink, then had you hand it to her. Could it have been the bartender? Are the police looking into that at all?”
“There were two bartenders working that night and they were right next to each other. They both vouched for the other that neither put anything in the drink,” Theodore said.
“That doesn’t mean that they didn’t,” Grace said.
“Except that neither has any connection to Harriet. There’s little to no motive, so the police dropped it,” Theo said.
Grace sighed. “So the real question is, who benefits if you are accused of murder?”
Oliver blanched, leaning forward.
“You think someone was coming for me? And Harriet just got in the way?” He looked like he was about to be sick.
“It’s worth considering,” Theodore said.
“The only people I can think of are the Gatewoods. Father screwed them with a business investment. They might have seen an opportunity to make us pay.”
“I know about that,” Grace said. She quickly scrawled it in her notebook. “I’ll see if I can talk to them tonight.”
“If I’m the reason Harriet was killed…” Oliver said. His face had taken on a gray tinge, his unwashed hair falling into his eyes.
“You didn’t do this,” Grace said. With a look to the guard for permission, she knelt beside him. “Whoever did this bears responsibility for their actions. They and they alone.”
Theodore carefully tucked the image of the mysterious woman into his own coat pocket for safekeeping. He stood and conversed with the guard in the corner, giving Grace and Oliver a moment alone.
“Grace,” Oliver said, turning to her urgently. “I remembered something that I need to tell you. I’ve been going over and over it in my memory.”
Her stomach sank as he bent forward to whisper into her ear.
“The night Harriet died,” he whispered, “it was Earnest who handed me the glass.”
