I turned back to Delia and sat beside her.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, taking her hand in mine.
“Better,” she replied. “Physically, at least.”
I gave her a sympathetic smile. “And what does Mrs. Reynolds say?”
“She has been an angel. I’m supposed to still rest, of course. But that is just as well. I have no desire to see anyone. Present company excluded,” she added.
I squeezed her hand. “I am here for you. Anything you need.”
“I know,” she said softly, as she squeezed back.
But I knew very well that grief was a road one had to travel largely alone. For after the rites were said and the dead were buried, others moved on much more quickly.
She then inhaled and straightened. “So then. Have you uncovered anything of note?”
I considered telling Delia about our meeting with Mrs. Pearson, but decided it wasn’t necessary at the moment. She deserved to mourn the Charles Pearson she had known and loved. And there were other things I could share in the meantime.
“I learned from Mr. Henshaw about a private auction that Charles frequented at the home of Sir Armstrong-Hughes. I thought we might be able to speak with some of the attendants and perhaps discover more about his business.”
Delia leaned forward, her interest piqued. “And?”
“Mr. Dorian was able to gain us admission, and we attended last night. I learned that Charles did not often sell his pieces. Rather, he found pieces for other collectors. And apparently was quite good at it.”
Delia bit her lip as she considered this. “That makes sense. And could explain his need for a telephone.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Then I hesitated. Delia rose a brow, compelling me to continue. “I did not only go there to find outabout Charles, though. Months ago, while I was still on Corfu, I learned a rumor about Oliver and his work in the government.”
Delia frowned in confusion. “A rumor? What kind of rumor?”
I let out a sigh. “Mr. Dorian asked a friend at the Foreign Office to look into Oliver, and they revealed that he was suspected of selling Grecian artifacts on the black market.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. “What?”
I hung my head and nodded. “They also suggest that that was the reason Oliver left the embassy and moved us to Corfu.”
Delia gripped my wrist. “Do you believe that?”
My nose began to sting as I met her concerned gaze. “I don’t know. And I hate that I feel any kind of doubt about him. But I cannot deny that it would explain some things. His sudden retirement, his insistence that we move to Corfu. And …” I swallowed hard, past the lump in my throat. “Not long before he died, he made me promise him that I wouldn’t come back here. He was quite insistent about it, in fact. And for a long time, I thought it was because he simply wanted the children to have a different kind of childhood than we had. But now I keep thinking that there was more to it. That maybe he was trying to protect us from something. But if that was the case, wouldn’t he have told me?”
“Maybe he meant to,” Delia said gently.
But death had taken him first.
I wiped the heel of my palm across my eyes, where a few rebellious tears had fallen. “We found some papers in Sir Armstrong-Hughes’s study that included a number of items exported from Greece around the time Oliver was still in service. But the name of the procurer was deliberately withheld.”
“Good heavens, Minnie,” Delia said, looking properly shocked. “And you think it was Oliver?”
“I don’t know. But I need to find out who it was. If only to prove it wasn’t him.”
“How can I help?”
I let out a surprised laugh. “I can’t drag you into this.”
“Nonsense. After everything you’ve done for me, let me help you now.”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” But just as I said the words, something came to mind:
