“I doubt he suspected him.” Hugh’s mouth went tight. “But I believe Jouveau did. In his diary he noted, ‘Verify the meetings on 20 September.’ Jouveau was with me when Ridley claimed he’d had meetings in London on that date. I think Jouveau checked Ridley’s alibi.”
Clyde’s chin and eyebrows elevated, and he resumed scribbling. “Quite possibly.”
“Ridley had ample motive in Jouveau’s case. They often argued about Jouveau’s broadcasts to France. And when Jouveau interviewed my cousin, William told Jouveau his father had uncovered an affair.”
Tapping his pencil to his square chin, Clyde frowned. “What were those initials in Jouveau’s diary again?”
“JI-GB.” Hugh shrugged. “No, it doesn’t help.”
Clyde cursed under his breath, then shook his head. “Regardless, we have reason to bring Ridley in for questioning.”
Hugh relaxed back in his seat. A good start.
After Clyde rushed to the door again, he beckoned to a sergeant. “Bring in Mr. Albert Ridley for questioning about the murder of that refugee in Hyde Park—Filip Zielinski.”
Then he turned back to Hugh. “If you wouldn’t mind, please stay. I’ll help Bright fetch the evidence.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clyde marched away.
Hugh’s left leg bounced. Zielinski was a refugee.
Aleida thought the refugee cause linked the murders. She also thought...
Miss Sharma.
Hugh sucked in a breath. Strangled in a park in a trench. The same modus operandi.
Was Miss Sharma’s death connected to the others? But how? Did she know Ridley?
He stood and paced. If only he could talk to Aleida. He missed the second half of his brain.
The second half of his heart.
“It’s time for your speech.” Mr. Armbruster escorted Aleida to a platform at the rear of the ballroom. “I do apologize for running late.”
Standing by the platform, Mrs. Armbruster kissed Aleida’s cheek. “You’ll be marvelous, my dear.”
“Thank you again for this opportunity,” Aleida said.
Mrs. Armbruster’s plump cheeks dimpled with suppressed laughter. “I’m afraid my darling husband has ulterior motives. He has great hopes to resurrect Elliott Hastings’s bill to aid refugees. Some of the key supporters—and opponents—are in this room.”
Mr. Armbruster smoothed his gray-streaked brown hair. “I hope that by calling attention to the plight of refugee children, you’ll awaken compassion for all refugees.”
“Thank you, sir. I would like to help.”
“That was clear in your report,” he said.
A warm smile rose. “I’m glad Miss Granville gave it to you.”
Mr. and Mrs. Armbruster glanced at each other and chuckled.
“Miss Granville?” Mr. Armbruster smirked. “She didn’t give me the report.”
“She didn’t?”
“No, that Indian girl brought it to me, with a brave speech about defying Miss Granville and rescuing the report from the scrap bin for the sake of the children.”
