“Please,” she said, pulling out her notebook. “It’s very important. A man has been wrongfully accused. He’s—”
“You need to stop looking into this,” Mr. Parsons said, his voice deathly quiet. “Or someone else is going to get killed.”
She stopped short. “What?” she breathed.
“Don’t come here again,” he said. “Or it is probably going to be you.”
He slammed the door in her face.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THOUGH SHE WASN’Tremotely hungry, Grace made her way toward the Cascades restaurant and asked for a table. She ordered an iced tea and waited for Walt, just like she had for the last two days.
She wasn’t sure what to do now. She brought out her notebook and scribbled, looking over her shoulder, scanning the crowds milling around the Grand Basin, the gondolas cutting through the canals.
She was admittedly spooked by the man’s warning. But this was proof, wasn’t it? Real proof that Oliver was being framed. That she was on the right track. After all, if they already had the right person, then why would anyone threaten her for looking into it?
She felt a tingle of dread as she returned to her list of suspects. She crossed off Earnest’s name and that of the singer Ethel Adams—they both had alibis, clearly visible in the camera footage when the shadowy figure put something into the drinking glass.
The rest of her list remained frustratingly the same and had even grown. Half of St. Louis’s high society had been there that night.
Then there was the someone who met with Harriet that night at the restaurant and wanted money.
There was still the mysterious woman following Harriet and Oliver.
Who did Harriet meet with in the Tunnels?
And why had Frannie lied about the message?
Grace pressed her pen against the page, watching it bleed ink like a clot. She was coming up with more spidering directions to pursue, not less.
And then, when she turned her head, she saw Walt.
“Walt!” she cried, bursting to her feet.
He was walking with Lillie, who had him clasped by the arm, guiding him toward the restaurant.
Lillie’s tired, lovely face lit up when she saw Grace.I have him, it said.He’s alive, and he’s with me, and he is all right.
Grace rushed to greet them and threw her arms around her brother. He smelled a little sour and she felt that familiar rush of conflicting emotions. Joy and sadness and a slight revulsion that made her disappointed in him and in herself. Anger at him for disappearing again and making her worry. And then back to joy again, that he was all right.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “I was worried about you.” Both were equally true.
He smiled at her, somewhere between charm and shame. “I lost track of time,” he said.
“Come sit,” she said, leading him to the table.
They ordered roast beef sandwiches, potato salad, and iced teas in jewel-tone glasses to cool off from the midday sun. Grace waited until the food had been served and the edge of hunger had waned to broach any real attempts at conversation.
“How are you, Walt?” she said.
“I did what you asked,” Walt said, chewing. “I found a guy who saw Harriet meet with someone that day in the Tunnels.”
“Who was it?” Grace asked, her dashed hopes instantly rising. “A woman or a man?”
“He said it was a man. Listen. I have the source. But he says he won’t talk without…” He trailed off. Shrugged, and took another bite.
Grace’s heart sank. Of course. She glanced at Lillie.
