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A Silent Curse

Page 13

by Christy Carlyle

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

Delacourt looked at his daughter with a frown. “You never told me this.”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“Was Iris afraid of this man?”

Violet shook her head. “No, she didn’t seem so. She only said that Miss Collier had been afraid.”

“We will look into it,” Gideon said.

Though it did not seem to mollify Roger Delacourt. “Inspector, what will you do to find my daughter? Miss Collier’s death, forgive me for saying so, must be the purview of some other division. You were invited here for Iris.” He turned his gaze toward Electra and waved a hand toward her, his pinky ring glinting in the firelight. “Perhaps it is time we hear from Miss Poole.”

Gideon turned to her, a question in his eyes.

Electra nodded. She was ready.

“One last question,” Gideon said as he turned back to the family. “Could you provide me with a list of associates of Miss Delacourt’s? Friends. Coworkers. Anyone she might have regularly spent time with.”

Violet bit her lip.

Her father said, “It would be a rather short list. When Iris wasn’t working, she spent most of her time here. Practicing art. Reading.”

“We both preferred quiet pursuits,” Violet added.

Electra frowned. That did not quite match some of what Violet had said about her sister. “But you did mention Iris having a sense of adventure.”

Violet looked momentarily perplexed, blinking and glancing away for a moment. “I suppose it is true that in taking her post at the museum, she was expressing a desire for more than quiet pursuits. And she met new people, of course.”

“Can you name those people?” Gideon pressed.

“The only people she ever spoke of were Beatrice Longfellow, Mr. Seaton, and Miss Collier,” she said.

Electra noticed how Mr. Delacourt observed his daughter each time she spoke, almost as if eager for her to divulge some new detail, or perhaps to correct the details she did share. Something about his watchfulness made her bristle, and she wondered if Miss Delacourt felt the same.

Electra attempted to read her feelings and could not, other than the worry that seemed to weigh on both of them.

“Can you name anyone else?” he asked his daughter.

“No, Father.”

“An address for Mr. Seaton and Miss Longfellow would help me.”

Delacourt gestured the list he’d given Gideon. “You have it.”

“And who is Miss Longfellow?” Electra asked.

“A longtime friend,” Violet explained. “Many years ago, our families met on a holiday at the seaside. Beatrice and Iris remained in touch, and Beatrice recently came to London to study at Bedford College, so they met at a tea shop on occasion.”

Roger Delacourt perched on the edge of the settee again. “We have told you a great deal, Inspector. Do you have enough to proceed?”

“I do, sir. I shall start with the employee who threatened Miss Collier. If Miss Delacourt was aware of what occurred, she might have feared him too.”

Delacourt frowned. “I am not at all convinced that Miss Collier’s passing has anything to do with Iris, but I suppose it must be considered.”

He turned his head, fixing all his attention on Electra.

“Miss Poole, perhaps we should hear from you now. Violet was most insistent that you could assist us, though I understand your connection is chiefly to the Becknell murder investigation.”