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A Silent Curse

Page 75

by Christy Carlyle

“Perhaps also unlikely to be Joseph Barclay.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “He did not strike me as an unintelligent man, but I cannot see him spending money on books such as those.”

“So that leaves us with Wakefield or possibly Kerrigan.” Gideon thought Wakefield seemed their most likely suspect, but Kerrigan struck him as not entirely truthful the night they’d spoken to him.

“Why would Kerrigan take her?” Electra mused. “Why would he keep her? And why on earth would he send a letter to the police and to the Delacourts?”

Gideon could not offer answers regarding the man’s character or motives, but he had considered the matter of the note.

“It was purportedly to reassure the family,” he said, “but it feels a bit more like a taunt.”

“It does,” Electra agreed.

“Which makes me think that it might be Tristan Wakefield since what he did confess to could upturn his life quite drastically.”

Electra nodded and turned to him. “Yes. I suspect his life will never be the same after last night. If Violet overheard our discussion through the door, or he confessed to her after we departed, she might have broken their engagement. That could set him off. Who knows what he’s capable of.”

“I did have the one constable go to the Delacourts to retrieve the note that was left at their home, but I also directed them to inquire about Wakefield.”

Electra tapped her lip with a gloved fingertip. “I wonder if the Delacourt staff knew about Wakefield. That argument I saw when I touched Violet’s hand was in the Delacourt sitting room. But Violet implied they sometimes had tiffs, as she called them. Chances are that the staff has heard some of them.”

“Mmm, they would have heard something. But if any of them knew about Iris and Wakefield, none admitted it when questioned by constables.”

Electra stared out the window as they turned onto Kerrigan’s street. “Is someone watching Wakefield? Where he goes?”

“Yes, a constable has begun trailing him today. I asked them to wait at his lodgings and follow him if he departed.”

“Good,” she said, and he could feel a bit of the tension in her ease. “That makes me feel better.”

She was once again pressed against him, arm to thigh. “He is your chief suspect?”

“Nothing about the man seems straightforward or trustworthy, but what I need is proof. He claims he was likely at his practice the morning of her disappearance and claims not to have seen her that morning. But I can’t say I trust his claims.”

Gideon raked a hand through his hair. Wakefield, he feared, would attempt to outmaneuver them, and if he was responsible for Iris’s disappearance, he would be fearful now. A man with no morals pushed to the wall might do something rash.

“The constable investigating his associates will attempt to collect his appointment book, so we can determine whether he had an appointment the morning of the 13th.”

They climbed out of the carriage and stepped onto the pavement in front of Kerrigan’s townhouse door. Gideon rapped and received no answer, then rapped again a bit more loudly. When they still received no response, he leaned forward, pressing his ear to the door.

“What is it?” Electra asked.

“I hear voices. A woman’s voice. She’s shrieking.”

Electra moved up to stand beside him, facing him, pressing her own ear to the door. “It sounds like the housekeeper, Mrs. Crawley. Wasn’t that her name?”

“Yes,” Gideon agreed. “Step back, if you would, Electra.”

She did and he banged on the door again, harder, with the flat of his palm, and then harder yet with the side of his fist. “Open the door, Mrs. Crawley. It’s Detective Inspector Pierce of Scotland Yard.”

A clatter could be heard, as if something had been overturned, and then, finally, a young man opened the door.

He wore footman’s garb. His color was high, and there was a scratch on his cheek. The young man looked terrified.

“Who are you?” Gideon demanded.

“Piper, sir. Jonathan Piper, the footman.”

“Open the door, Mr. Piper.”