Chapter 4 #2
The first time Gideon had questioned her during a murder investigation, he’d insisted she tell him only what she’d observed by empirical means, distrusting her claim that she could sense and see things via gifts she could not fully explain.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair to remind him of that moment now, but his gaze on her had hardened.
There was an air of suspicion in his tone that she could not bear.
“I understand,” he said in a low voice. “And I meant no offense.”
It was a rarity for Gideon Pierce to relent so quickly, and it warmed something in the center of Electra’s chest.
“I swear I do not know Percival Pennington, Gideon.”
“I believe you.” The earnestness in his tone made her regret her defensiveness. He lowered his head and released a sigh. “I must admit to being glad you are not acquainted, that you aren’t entangled in his case.”
“But I am,” Electra pointed out. “For some reason, a dead man held my card as he died.” She stared at Gideon’s coat pocket, thinking of the piece of paper and what she might learn from it.
The urge to learn more about the man who’d had it in his possession in his last moments overwhelmed her. “May I… May I touch the card?”
Gideon’s head snapped up, his expression one of shock, though it soon ebbed into something very like curiosity. The muscles of his jaw shifted as if chewing on the notion of how this might complicate his case, or perhaps warring with the prospect of allowing her to become more entangled.
Finally, he nodded and lifted the card from his pocket once again.
Electra stepped forward, and Gideon placed the card on her outstretched palm.
Her abilities were unpredictable. Sometimes she saw and felt nothing when touching a person or object. Other times images flickered, too faintly, in her mind.
She closed her eyes, intensely aware of Gideon watching her.
Yet she did her best to open herself to whatever her abilities might reveal. All at once, her chest tightened and her muscles stiffened as images arose in her mind.
A blurry image of a carriage interior at night, where the air felt close.
The gentleman who’d held her card, Pennington, had been angry at the person who sat at his side in the carriage, but he kept his gaze focused ahead.
She could make out nothing of his companion but a dark overcoat.
Then the images shifted, becoming clearer.
Daylight filtered into an elegant room, and a middle-aged gentleman stood shouting at Pennington, his face twisted in a grimace.
She heard no sound but saw the fury on his face, tears welling in the angry man’s eyes.
Then something drew Pennington’s gaze away, toward a door sliding open. A blonde young woman pushed inside…
As if a curtain had been pulled across her vision, the images went black and she opened her eyes.
Gideon watched her with a worried frown.
“Are you all right?” he asked, then stepped closer.
“Yes, of course. Do I look unwell?”
“You…flinched as if you’d been struck, or were frightened.”
Electra hadn’t sensed that reaction in her body. Perhaps she’d been too lost in Percival Pennington’s memories.
“I saw a man—sandy-haired, middle-aged—shouting at him.”
“In the street? Tonight?”
“No, it was inside a wood-paneled room. Perhaps a study. And it was daylight.”
“Was it today?”
Electra shook her head. “I could not tell the day or the hour.”
“So you didn’t see…whoever murdered him?”
“No.”
To her surprise, he seemed almost pleased by that admission.
“Did you see anything else of significance?”
“I saw him in a carriage. A hansom, I think. He was sitting quite close to someone, and I sensed his anger toward that person, but I could not see them. Their clothing was dark, and it was evening.”
Gideon nodded, then pulled out his pencil and notepad he used to record details when he questioned witnesses. He held the pad in one palm and wrote quickly. “Anything else?”
“When the man was arguing with him in the wood-paneled room, they were interrupted by a young woman with blonde hair and light-colored eyes. Perhaps blue eyes. For some reason, her appearance was the last thing I saw. Usually images fade, like smoke, but these ceased abruptly.”
He frowned at that, then bent his head to write more in his notebook.
“Thank you,” he said.
Electra offered the card back to him, though in truth, she would have tried again to see more if he’d asked her to.
“I should return to the station.”
“Of course.” Electra had no wish to delay his progress, and she could sense the anxious energy in him that she’d often noted at the start of a new case.
“I’ll send word when I am able to reschedule our dinner.”
Electra offered him a half-smile. “Good.”
After staring at her for a few silent ticks of the clock, he added in a less terse tone, “And I will find out why Percival Pennington had your card in his hand.”
Electra clenched her jaw and considered the words on the tip of her tongue, weighed telling him about her vision and how he might react. Then an impulse struck and before she could talk herself out of it, she blurted, “I could assist you.”
His brown eyes widened a fraction. “Electra…you know that’s not—”
“My assistance has been useful before.”
He dipped his head, took a breath, then fixed her with a determined look. “I won’t deny that, but you must know it is not appropriate for me to involve you in this case. Nor could I ever include your findings in an official police report.”
Electra crossed her arms, more peeved than she expected to be by a refusal she’d known was coming. “I wish to know about the case, Gideon, since my card was found on the man.”
“I won’t let any harm come to you.”
Electra scoffed. “You cannot promise such a thing.” Harm came to her father and neither of them could have stopped it. Harm came to her mother, and she had been powerless to help her.
“I must go.” His anger always simmered slowly, but she could see that she’d frustrated him. “Goodnight, Electra.”
With that, he turned to depart, not waiting for her reply.
“Gideon.”
He turned on his heel, brows arched in question.
“Will I be called to the inquest?”
His mouth thinned into a grim line. “Not if I can help it. You did not know Mr. Pennington. Your card came to him by happenstance. But perhaps you should prepare yourself for that possibility.”
He gave her a nod, one last long look, then saw himself out.
Electra uncrossed her arms and paced the rug in front of the fireplace for the umpteenth time that evening. She didn’t feel at all reassured by Gideon’s determination to shield her from involvement in the investigation into Percival Pennington’s death.
Whether he wished it or not, whether she would be called to give testimony at the inquest or not, she was connected to the man somehow. And she intended to find out how.