“Thank you. I’m pleased to hear that.” Had the woman had a change of heart? Or was she maneuvering for favor, knowing Mr. Armbruster would address the problems Aleida had exposed?
Regardless, Aleida raised a sincere smile.
Beatrice tapped Aleida’s arm. “How did you arrive this evening? By taxi?”
“Well, yes.”
“That won’t do.” Beatrice clucked her tongue. “I have a car and a driver. I simply insist you ride with me.”
If only Hugh could accompany her home. She scanned the ballroom in vain. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
A bright smile, and Beatrice sashayed away.
At the entrance to the ballroom, Mr. and Mrs. Armbruster welcomed some familiar faces—Guy Gilbert, Tom Young, and Gerald MacTavish.
Why was Gil here with the recording crew? Where was Hugh?
Mr. Armbruster peered around the dance floor and pointed Aleida out to Gil and the others. Gil smiled and waved.
Aleida did her best to return the gesture, and she met Gil halfway around the ballroom.
He bowed, sweeping back the tails of his coat. “Good evening, Aleida. You’re a vision of beauty.”
“Thank you.” She dropped a curtsy, but disappointment colored her words. “Is Hugh with you?”
“No.” His gaze darted to the side, and chandelier light shined on his slicked-back blond hair. “He asked me to come in his place.”
“Oh.” Hugh had sounded delighted with the story. Why would he give it to Gil? She worked up a smile. “I’m glad the story will still be broadcast. How good of you to come.”
Gil wrinkled his nose and sighed. “Collie does have good reason. A man was murdered last night—Filip Zielinski.”
“Oh no.” Aleida’s mouth fell open. “We saw him on Sunday at Speakers’ Corner.”
“His body was found nearby.” Gil lowered his voice. “In a trench in the park, strangled with his scarf.”
Strangled? In a trench? That was how Nilima died, and a chill raced up Aleida’s spine.
Gil leaned closer. “Collie went to the police station to report an altercation he witnessed between Mr. Zielinski and Albert Ridley.”
“We saw—”
“Yes. Collie is certain Ridley killed Zielinski, and he thinks Ridley also killed Hastings and Jouveau.”
“But Ridley has an alibi.”
Gil leaned still closer, his light blue eyes earnest. “No, he does not. Mr. Fletcher and I saw Ridley near the Hastings estate on the day of the murder. He was with a redhead—who was not his wife.”
An affair. Was that the affair Hastings threatened to expose?
With a redhead?
Aleida’s gaze swept the ballroom and found Beatrice Granville. A redhead. A friend of Albert Ridley’s. Ridley had visited the office, which had annoyed Beatrice. A visit from an old friend wouldn’t be cause for annoyance, but a visit from a married lover ...?
“Gil?” Aleida murmured. “Be very discreet. There’s a tall woman with red hair about twenty feet to your left.”
With a bored expression, Gil glanced around the ballroom and back to Aleida. His eyebrows rose. “In the green dress? That’s her. I saw her with Ridley.”
Aleida’s mind spun pieces into place. “Her name is Beatrice Granville. The police need to know. Go to the police station straightaway and tell them, tell Hugh. He’ll understand.”
