Page 63

Mr. Beecham slammed his fist down on his desk and pointed a finger at Pennington, who stood up so quickly he tipped the chair over behind him. Then he slammed both palms on Beecham’s desk and bent forward.

He snarled something Electra couldn't hear with a hateful scowl on his face, eyes blazing. Then he spun away and strode from the room. It looked like a study. There were books lining one wall and swords hung in a row on another.

Electra kept her eyes closed, hoping for more of that moment. But the images shifted to a park on sunny day. Green trees. Hyde Park. She could see the Serpentine glittering in the distance. It reminded her of what she’d seen in Cordelia’s memories of a moment spent with Pennington.

But the woman who approached was not Cordelia, and through Beecham’s eyes, he turned his head toward her.

Electra’s pulse sped. The woman wore a green dress and had thick auburn hair. It was Jane Wilson, who she suspected was actually Demeter Devlin.

When Beecham stood to walk toward her, she jolted away. He reached for her arm, squeezing tight. She pulled out of his grip and said something. It looked a great deal like, “How dare you.”

The lady’s face was animated, guarded, and showed a bit of fear. She started to stride away, but Beecham followed her. She turned back, waving him off. Finally, he stopped and allowed her to depart.

Beecham walked in the opposite direction, towards the street, out of the park. The images faded, shimmering a moment like sunlight on the Serpentine.

Electra kept her eyes closed and twisted the pen in her hands, trying for more. She thought of Percival Pennington and tried to draw on anything that might come, any other interaction between Pennington and Beecham. Any meeting that might have occurred on the fateful night of Pennington’s death.

Nothing else came. She opened her eyes to find Miss Beecham watching her with a fretful look.

“May I ask what you saw, Miss Poole?”

“I didn't see your father doing any harm to Percival Pennington.”

Miss Beecham closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “I’m so relieved to hear it.”

Electra was pleased to see a bit of the young lady’s worries ebb, but she also felt uncertain of Beecham’s culpability. Nothing she’d seen confirmed his guilt or his innocence, only that he had a fractious relationship with Pennington.

“I must say that what I saw doesn't guarantee his innocence, Miss Beecham.”

The young lady’s eyes snapped to Electra’s. “But you didn’t see any evidence he harmed Mr. Pennington either, correct?”

“No, but I did see Mr. Pennington.”

Aurora Beecham gasped and leaned forward. “You did?”

“Yes. It seemed your father was speaking to him inside of a dark wood-paneled room with books and swords lining the walls.”

“My father's study. Mr. Pennington met with him there several times, and they were rarely congenial meetings, at least in the last few weeks.”

“They argued about the case, I take it.”

Miss Beecham exhaled another long sigh, this one more weary than relieved. “The breach-of-promise case that my father wanted to bring, yes. But you never saw him harm Mr. Pennington?”

“No. He did argue with him, and it seemed Mr. Pennington was quite riled. He shouted at your father and then stormed out of the study.”

“But you saw nothing from that night?”

Electra always felt dreadful when disappointing someone who’d come to her for answers. “No. I tried to, but no. Do you know where your father was that evening?”

“He says he was dining at a hotel restaurant with a longtime friend, Mr. Eames.”

“Have you spoken to Mr. Eames?”

“No, but I’ve spoken to his daughter, who I’m friends with. She says her father was away from home that evening, dining with a friend. When she asked who, he confirmed it was my father.”

Miss Beecham fixed her gaze on the pen, now lying in its box on Electra’s lap. “I have no real reason to doubt my father except for all the pieces seeming to fit together too well.”

“Detective Inspector Pierce will confirm his alibi, Miss Beecham, if there is still any doubt in your mind on that count.”