“Yes, with Lizzie.”
Roen stamped his feet once more and then walked through the kitchen. Fedora swept behind him anyway.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Martin Cabot was sitting alone in Mrs. Brady’s parlor used exclusively by her guests when Ben Madison and Roen Shepard arrived. He had expected the sheriff. Mr. Shepard was an unwelcome surprise. It was indeed unfortunate that the earliest train leaving Frost Falls would not arrive for another two hours. His bags were already packed. There was nothing left for him to do but wait.
“Mr. Cabot.” Ben touched his index finger to the brim of his hat then he pointed to Roen. “You know Mr. Shepard?”
Martin folded his paper, put it aside, and got to his feet. He held out a hand to Roen. “A pleasure, sir. I know your name, of course. Martin Cabot here.”
Roen shook his hand and smiled politely but without enthusiasm. “Mr. Cabot.”
“Martin, please. I saw you last night. You were with Miss Chen. Unfortunate what befell her.”
“She told you?”
“Yes,” he said. “I asked. Ill-mannered of me, but she would have never volunteered. Close-mouthed, she is. To take such a spectacular fall as she did, it defied my imagination. She has always struck me as graceful and light on her feet. I’ve seen acclaimed ballet dancers tread more heavily on the stage than she does.”
Roen was momentarily at a loss. Fedora had not mentioned a conversation with Cabot or that she had offered an explanation for her injury. Ben spared him from replying.
“Yes,” said Ben. “Unfortunate.” He looked around the sitting room. It had space enough to accommodate them but itlacked privacy. “Is there somewhere we can go where no one will intrude? Your room, perhaps?”
Martin shook his head. The packed bags would present a problem for him. “Give me a moment to tell Mrs. Brady you would prefer not to be disturbed. She’ll guard the room with the vigilance of Cerberus.”
His reference to the three-headed dog at the gates of hell made Ben smile. When Cabot left the room, Ben nudged Roen. “I’ll never be able to look at Mrs. Brady without seeing the hounds of Hades.”
“Hmm.”
Ben said, “Are you sure you want to be here? You can leave, you know.”
“I understand, but I asked to come along, mostly because of Fedora. For her sake, I’d like to know that he’s leaving town. I want to hear it from him. I promise I won’t interfere.”
“All right. I won’t hold you to it because you arenotclosemouthed.” Ben chose an armchair and sat.
Roen followed suit, taking the gently worn damask-covered seat of a cherrywood chair.
Martin returned. “We will not be disturbed, gentlemen.” He sat and regarded them expectantly. “I hope you mean to explain the purpose of your visit.”
Ben said, “You are in the employ of Miss Victorine Headley, is that correct?”
Martin did not answer immediately. He removed his spectacles, carefully folded the stems, and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Is it correct?” he asked. “What makes you think so?”
Ben’s mouth flattened. He shook his head and turned over his hand to indicate that Roen should speak up.
“She told me she hired a private investigator. It did not require a great deal of work to identify you.” And because he believed that Cabot intended to string them along, he added the lie. “And she confirmed it.”
“I see. Then, yes, I am Miss Headley’s employee.”
Ben took over again. “And the reason you were hired?”
Martin shifted uncomfortably. “I think she should answer that. We have an agreement, she and I, that I keep her businessconfidential. Unless she tells me differently, I cannot in good conscience answer your questions. Moreover, I am still not clear on the point of your visit.”
“We’ll get to that,” said Ben. “Right now, we are looking for confirmation of what Miss Headley told us.”
“Do you have reason to suspect she’s lying?”
“Always,” said Roen. He shot Ben an apologetic glance. It was one thing to be invited to speak, quite another to insert himself into the interview.
