“Well, yes. But you do not count. I cannot use my feminine wiles on you.” That earned me a burst of laughter, and the feigned disapproval vanished.
“Tell me. It cannot possibly be worse than Davina’s latest debacle.”
I hesitated for less than a second. The truth was on the tip of my tongue, dying to burst forth. “I know who killed Gabriel.”
He froze, brown eyes wide and dark, heavy brows raised. “I beg your pardon?”
“I know who killed Gabriel. I met him last night.”
“You met him last night… and he told you he murdered your late husband?” He was speaking slowly now, as though speaking to a child who could not understand.
“Well, no. Not exactly, but?—”
“Celine, you know I loved Gabriel, and I love you. But it’s been seven years…”
“No, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not crazy. I saw him the day before at the races. I forgot until I met him again last night?—”
“You saw a man at the races the day before Gabriel died, and you think that makes him the killer.”
“Would you let me finish?” I snapped, the irritation, the guilt, the sleeplessness all boiling over.
His palms flitted up in front of him in pacification. “Right, sorry. Tell me everything.”
I blurted all of it. The entirety of my knowledge escaped in unending sentences, delivered without breath.
Xander sat before me, eerily still. “Celine… That’s not evidence of a murder. That’s barely evidence of a possible connection. To be honest, I’m not even sure half of what you said were sentences.”
“You don’t understand!”
“I do, Cee. I really do. I want to find his killer as badly as you do, but… I remember William. He was kind. He wouldn’t have hurt Gabriel. His office handles our estate business. He is always welcoming and affable. Not the attitude of someone who murdered my elder brother.”
“But wouldn’t you, if someone hurt someone you loved? Not just hurt, but destroyed? Imagine if it were Davina?” He considered me carefully, his gaze flicking to the ledger with her name on it.
“All right, say I believe the motive. You have no evidence.”
“No, I do. I have this.” I opened my reticule once again, handing over the note I grabbed from the trunk this morning.
“Celine, this is nothing.Wcould be anyone. And it’s not even dated. Who’s to say this is from the day before?”
“But look at the slant of the writing, and the smear. It was written by someone left-handed. And William is left-handed.”
“How do you know that?”
“He had ink stains on his left hand.” I waved my left hand in demonstration.
“When were you close enough to notice stains on his left hand? I do not even recall seeing him last night.”
“That’s not important.”Why could he not focus on the things of import?
“And where did you find this note, for that matter?” His voice rose in pitch, the same way it did when Davina was being particularly vexing.
“It was in Gabriel’s ledgers and things.”
“Why do you have Gabriel’s ledgers?”
“Oh, the second ones, not the official ones.”
“Gabriel had secondary ledgers?”
