Mrs. Harding’s eyes go wide before snapping back to mine. “You’re with the Alpha Council?”
I return the coin to my pocket and deliver my next lines. Lines I rehearsed a thousand times in the cab. “Yes, and we’re working on a case regarding a missing princess. Our case requires much discretion, so I’ll need your binding promise that the topic of our visit today remains secret.”
Her lips pull into a frown. “Should we wait for my hus—”
“Our matter is urgent,” Torben interrupts, “and I do insist you cooperate.”
Sandy purses her lips, then gives a resigned nod. “Very well. I promise to keep our conversation a secret.”
Her promise leaves some room for deception, but I don’t want to push her too far. At least we’ve covered our bases and lowered the chances that she’ll turn our visit into gossip.
She gestures toward the couch for Torben and I to return to our seats. Meanwhile, she claims a chair across the tea table. I note the way she weaves her fingers in her lap. Is she just unsettled by our unexpected visit? Or does she suspect why we’re here? “How may I assist your investigation?”
Torben asks the first question. “Have you ever been acquainted with Miss Astrid Snow?”
“Astrid Snow?” Sandy echoes, pulling her head back in surprise. Then realization seems to dawn. It quickly shifts to sympathy. “Oh. You said you were looking for a missing princess. I heard about Edmund Snow’s death, as well as rumors that Miss Snow had run away.”
“Will you answer the question, Mrs. Harding?” Torben says. I have to fight the urge not to elbow him in the side for his brusque tone.
“Apologies,” Sandy rushes to say. “Yes, I have been acquainted with Miss Snow. She and her father were our dear friends a few years back.”
“Were?” Torben echoes. “Did your friendship come to an end?”
Sandy waves a dismissive hand. “We didn’t keep in touch after they moved from Greenhollow.”
I narrow my eyes. That was a clever way to use the truth to avoid mentioning what happened between me and her daughter.
Torben must realize it too, and for a moment I fear he might comment on it. Instead, he moves on to our most pressing topic. “Marybeth Harding is your niece, correct?”
Sandy blinks a few times before answering. “She is.”
“Were you aware that Miss Harding was Miss Snow’s lady’s maid at Fairweather Palace?”
“I was.”
“When was the last time you saw her? Miss Harding, that is?”
Sandy stiffens. “What does my niece have to do with anything?”
When Torben doesn’t answer right away, I realize it’s because he can’t. Not if we want to keep the truth to ourselves.
Which means it’s my turn to deliver another almost-true lie. “Our intel tells us the two girls were close,” I say. “We think Miss Harding might have information that could lead us to finding Miss Snow.”
Mrs. Harding’s eyes dart from me to Torben. “Then shouldn’t you ask my niece directly?”
“We have,” I say, “but as you can imagine she has been very distraught following the disappearance of her dear friend. We are reaching out to Miss Harding’s closest family to see if she’s said anything to anyone that could aid our investigation.”
Her posture eases a little. “Well, I haven’t seen or spoken to Marybeth since she took the position at the palace.”
I assess her words for deception. “What about other correspondences? Letters?”
“No, we haven’t corresponded by way of letter either.”
While her answers have left some room for interpretation, it seems unlikely she’s the one controlling Marybeth. Which leaves us one more suspect in the household.
Torben must come to the same conclusion I do. “May we speak with your daughter?”
She brings a hand to her chest, as if the question offends her. “My daughter?”
