Page 48

Hardy inhaled sharply and gestured around the room as if to say you are a thief.

Frye narrowed his eyes to slits. “Didn’t steal nothing from the museum. Ever.”

“Did you ever hear Miss Delacourt speak of a gentleman friend or any place she frequented?”

Frye looked at Gideon as if it was an odd question. “I did not bother to listen to her whispers. Only Calliope caught my notice. And she had every man there wrapped around her finger, highest to lowest. And some bastard at a pub.”

Gideon glanced at Hardy.

“Barclay at The Willows,” the sergeant confirmed.

Frye grumbled quietly to himself. “Told her to watch herself with him. A nasty temper, or so I heard. Don’t know why she ever trusted the brute. Looking for someone who’d hurt her? Look there.”

“But you were angry with her,” Gideon pressed. “With both young ladies.”

Frye groaned. “I have a habit of telling tales. I admit it. Makes life more colorful. But how could I have known a girl that kissed every gent she came across was gonna take offense at me taking a few little coins?” Frye pointed a finger at them. “Which I didn’t do. But suddenly she was judge and jury. Went to the one who favored her most, Mr. Kerrigan. He gave her that job and thought she could do no wrong.”

He crossed his arms, pursed his lips into a pout. “She told me I was gonna be fired. Arrested. I told her she was off her head.”

“And did you threaten Miss Delacourt?”

Frye rolled his eyes. “No. I swear it.” He sat a bit straighter in his chair. “I know why you’re here. She’s gone missing, yeah? Maybe she went off with her secret beau.”

Electra’s pulse sped in her ears. “What secret beau?”

Frye sniffed, then shrugged. “Don’t know his name. Thought it was the gent who came to see her at the museum, but he scarpered off and never seen him again.” He leaned forward a bit. “But she and Calliope whispered about someone else. Came upon them once and they both looked guilty as sin.”

Electra bent forward. “How do you know it was about a secret admirer?”

“Heard ’em talking about Miss Delacourt’s first kiss. She said it felt all wrong, and Calliope was trying to convince her that kissing was good and fine and wonderful.” He smirked at Electra. “Calliope was very fond of kissing. And good at it, I might say.”

“Watch it, Mr. Frye,” Hardy bit out.

Frye tucked his shackled hands against his chest and fell into a sullen silence.

Electra considered touching him, as she’d assured Gideon she would, if given the chance. Yet the man was shockingly easy to read. His emotions were vivid. She could see them, feel them, as if he was transmitting each loudly. Which was odd for a known thief and deceiver.

Still, she could feel his anger toward Miss Collier for going to Kerrigan, yet also his affection for her.

“I miss her,” Frye murmured, his cocksure mask seeming to falter for a moment. He looked truly bereft.

Electra sensed that grief was genuine too.

“Miss her every day. I never hurt her. I swear it.” Frye fixed his misty eyes on Electra. “And I never done nothing to Miss Delacourt neither. No idea where she’s gone off to.”

Electra sensed very little emotion when he mentioned Iris Delacourt, as if she truly had sparked nothing of such depth in him.

Hardy asked another question regarding Mr. Barclay, the barman, but Electra only half listened.

She leaned toward Gideon, who’d been taking notes, but he sensed her movement and listed in her direction.

“If I can touch something of Iris’s again, perhaps I’ll see more,” she whispered in his ear.

He turned to her, his face close to hers. “So you wish to return to the Delacourts’?” he asked quietly.

Frye was replying to Hardy’s question and had turned toward the sergeant, who seemed to provoke the young man’s wrath effortlessly.

“Yes, I told Violet I would call on her. We should go as soon as we can.”