Three
“And isn’t this unexpected,” Daphne finally muttered, a response that Arthur was certainly not going to construe as a normal response to the picture of Miss Eugenia Howland that Daphne was continuing to gawk at.
“Is something amiss?” Arthur asked, stepping closer to Daphne, which had Daphne’s head snapping up before she snatched up the picture of Eugenia, moved across Eunice’s office, and took a seat on a divan upholstered in a soft shade of pink, apparently needing to put distance between herself and Arthur in order to process the unexpected situation at hand.
Daphne didn’t speak a word for an entire minute as a myriad of expressions crossed her face. But then she pushed her spectacles back into place and squared her shoulders. “Forgive me, Mr. Livingston. I assure you nothing is amiss. I fear my imagination as a writer has come into play because Miss Eugenia Howland’s face is exactly the inspiration I’ve been searching for of late. I’ve begun writing a new heroine who possesses an unusual appearance, and”—she gave the flyer a wave—“this woman fits my heroine to aT. There’s something mesmerizing about the lady’s eyes.” She slid a look Eunice’s way. “Why, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that shade of blue beforein my entire life.”
As far as acting abilities went, Daphne’s attempt to convince Arthur she’d never seen the lady in the flyer before was somewhat amusing, although, thankfully, Arthur didn’t seem to realize Daphne’s dramatic denial was a tad overdone for the occasion.
“I specifically chose a flyer done in color to draw attention to Eugenia’s hair and unusual eyes, although I do have a photograph I can share with you.” Arthur fished a small metal frame out of his pocket and moved to hand it to Daphne. “I took this from a mantel in Eugenia’s home, and it could very well lend you some inspiration for a future character as well, given that it’s a picture of Eugenia sitting on her beast of a stallion, Wyatt. He’s a horse that’s not what one expects a young lady to ride, which lends insight into Eugenia’s unconventional attitude, Mrs. Henderson, and—”
“Please, call me Daphne.”
Curiosity swirled in Arthur’s eyes. “Do you normally encourage your clients to address you by your given name?”
When Daphne began looking like a deer in the lantern lights, Eunice sat forward. “We often encourage an informal atmosphere here, Mr. Livingston. It makes our clients feel more comfortable as they disclose unseemly matters.”
“Does that mean I should begin addressing you as Eunice?”
“No. But to return to your case, which is why you’re still here, what else can you tell us about Eugenia? Where was she last seen, why do you believe she went missing, and why, pray tell, do you need to find her?”
“Excellent questions, Eunice,” Daphne said, seemingly having gotten herself composed enough to where she was ready to reengage in the conversation. She returned the flyer and photograph to Arthur, then sat down in the chair she’d recently abandoned, flipping her notepad to a blank page. She began writing in it, pausing a moment later. “Tell me everything you know about Eugenia, beginning with who she is and when she was last seen.”
“Would you like the official version of Eugenia, or would you rather hear the truth?”
“There’s more than one version?”
“I’m afraid so. There are also more twists to this case than one would think possible. I’m hopeful the complexity of Eugenia’s story will intrigue you enough to agree to look into what actually happened to her, not the official version that’s been bandied about for years.”
“I’m certain I speak for both of us when I say we’re already intrigued,” Daphne returned. “I’d like to hear both versions, the official and the truth, but only after you give me the basics of who Eugenia Howland is.”
“Fair enough,” Arthur said, settling into his chair, which sent that chair wobbling again. “The first important thing you need to know is that Eugenia is the only grandchild of the late James W. Mason of Butte, Montana.”
“James W. Mason, as in the copper mogul?”
“One and the same.”
“Not something I was expecting to hear,” Daphne muttered before she frowned. “But how did it come about that you’re involved with searching for the granddaughter of a man who was rumored to be one of the wealthiest men in America at the time of his death?”
Arthur rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, but I’ll start with this—I struck up a business relationship with James W. Mason after meeting him at a gathering of the country’s most prominent mining investors about eight years ago. After we enjoyed a dinner together, James invited me to his home in Montana.”
“Why?” Daphne asked, flipping to another blank page.
“He said he was interested in having me merge my copper mines with his. I was only twenty-five at the time and had only been investing in mines for a few years, but James thought I was on my way to becoming a formidable force within the industry. He believed a business merger would be beneficial to both of us.”
Eunice stilled. “Merging as in forming a business partnership?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Arthur returned. “It quickly became evident, though, that James was more interested in a merger through marriage with his granddaughter, Eugenia.”
Eunice’s breath caught in her throat, but she was spared a response to what was definitely an unexpected development when Daphne sat forward.
“Shall I assume the reason behind Eugenia’s disappearance had something to do with this marriage merger between the two of you, Mr. Livingston?”
“Please, call me Arthur, but no, that’s not why Eugenia disappeared. Truth be told, I’m not certain she was aware her grandfather had marriage in mind pertaining to the two of us.”
“Perhaps she discovered her grandfather’s plan, didn’t care for it, and felt compelled to disappear to avoid marriage.”
“While there’s no question Eugenia and I frequently locked horns, and I had doubts she’d agree to marry me even if James had been able to convince me to court his granddaughter, I believe her disappearance was a direct result of James W. Mason being murdered.”
