Chapter Twelve
Four Days After the Murder
THE NEXT MORNING, Lillie, Earnest, and Grace hired a boat and rowed along the canals.
Steepled buildings rose around them in a dreamlike, temporary city.
Their gondola rocked as Grace unwrapped a croissant and spread it with fresh strawberry preserves.
She drank a thermos of hot coffee and Earnest held an umbrella over their heads to shade the morning sun.
The crowds streamed by on flower-lined paths beneath the Palaces.
Lillie was wearing an intricately embroidered pink dress that cinched at the waist and a matching hat with crisp white gloves. Grace had washed her blouse in the sink, hoping that no one would notice that it was still slightly damp.
“My parents are visiting Oliver with his lawyer this morning,” Lillie said.
“I heard they hired Clive Marpels,” Earnest said. “He’s supposedly the best money can buy.”
“And yet I think we can help,” Lillie said, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m planning to talk to people tonight at the ball. Inquire if they saw anything useful.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Earnest said. “The three of us can cover a lot of ground if we divide and conquer.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I won’t be there,” Grace said. She smiled ruefully. “Even the Carter name won’t be enough to get me in this time.”
“Then I’ll take you,” Earnest said. “I’ll bring you both. I can get Grace into the ball.”
“Thank you,” Lillie said with genuine surprise.
Earnest smiled at Grace, but his eyes drifted to Lillie. And Grace understood that it was a kindness to her, but it was perhaps more a kindness for Lillie.
She looked away. She was happy for Lillie. And yet she tried not to wonder what it might feel like, just once, to be the one chosen.
Her eye caught on a familiar silhouette walking along the canal banks, almost shrouded beneath the flowering trees. It was Mr. and Mrs. Gatewood.
Grace stiffened a little, remembering the way they had been toward her that night at the Glass Ball.
The night that Harriet had died.
She blocked the sun with her hand.
“Lillie,” she said slowly. “What if we’ve been thinking about this wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
Grace swallowed. “I just had a thought. What if the murderer wasn’t someone who actually wanted to hurt Harriet, but wanted to hurt Oliver?”
“But who would hurt Oliver?” Lillie asked, her brow creasing.
“Someone who was angry at your family,” Grace said. “And wanted to see them suffer.”
Earnest followed Grace’s gaze to the banks.
“The Gatewoods,” he said, grimacing. “They were there that night.”
Lillie shook her head. “No. Absolutely impossible.”
“Well. Perhaps not impossible,” Earnest said.
“No. They were our friends. No one could be that cruel,” Lillie insisted.
But Grace took note of it, believing the thought warranted at least consideration. Perhaps she would pay another visit to Oliver and ask him what he thought.
The gondolier rowed them to the shore, bumping into the banks. She almost fell over, but a hand caught her just in time.
She looked up into the face of Theodore Parker.
“You seem to have a recurring issue with boats,” he said dryly. “Namely, balancing on them.”
He pulled her back onto solid ground, so that their bodies almost collided.
Her gaze drifted along the birthmark on his jaw.
He was beginning to grow a beard over the mark, which looked like a bear’s claw, swiping across his cheek and down his jaw.
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting from him this morning.
She felt that something must have changed between them after what happened in the alley.
But he kept her at a careful distance. He was back to being his formal self, despite the way he had held her so intimately yesterday. And so she followed his lead.
“Perhaps you should stick to dry land,” he said, eyeing her.
She stuck her chin in the air. “Spoken by someone who can’t stomach being more than a foot above it.”
“Yes, I believe my limits have been well-established,” he said. “Now we need to locate yours.”
“What brings you here today, Parker?” Earnest asked. “Care to join us for a trip on the Creation ride?”
“Actually, I need to borrow Grace for an errand.” He looked at her. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” Earnest said, believing the question to be directed at him. “Lillie, we can discuss how to plan our approach tonight, if you’d like.”
Lillie leaned in and whispered to Grace, “I’ll have Earnest pick me up at the house on the early side so we can bring you a dress. Look for us by six.”
Grace kissed Lillie’s cheek. “I’ve never deserved you,” she whispered.
“You deserve everything,” she said. “I wish someday you’d realize that.”
She felt Lillie’s observant eyes on her as she took Theodore’s outstretched arm.
“Did you actually fall out of the boat?” Theo asked, frowning at her sleeve. “Your blouse feels damp.”
“Never mind that,” Grace said quickly. “Am I to believe you need a favor?”
“I had an idea,” he said. They strolled down the Colonnade of States through gently falling blossoms. The air smelled like sugared almonds as they came to a stop in front of a caricature artist.
“Here,” he said.
“You’d like to remember me forever?” she asked dryly. “But with horrifically exaggerated features?”
“I can assure you, Miss Covington, that you need no exaggeration,” he said. “You are more than enough to handle as it is.”
“You have such an elegant way with compliments,” she said. “You might want to reconsider the way you ask for a favor.”
“I don’t need a favor, exactly,” he said, frowning. “What I need is your memory.”
The woman sketching the pictures turned to them. The tips of her agile fingers were stained with charcoal.
“Could you do something a little unorthodox for us, perhaps?” Theodore asked her.
“Unorthodox,” the artist said. She smiled, showing ragged teeth. “Another word for ‘it’ll cost you.’”
“That won’t be a problem,” Grace said sweetly, jabbing Theodore with her elbow. “He just loves to spoil me.”
He rolled his eyes.
“If we described someone to you, could you draw a sketch of her?”
Grace’s understanding dawned.
“That woman,” she said, turning toward Theodore. “The one who was following us just before Harriet died.”
He nodded. “Do you remember her well enough to describe her?”
“I think so,” Grace said, furrowing her brow. She closed her eyes, mining her memory. She remembered the woman’s navy hat and suit, her profile as she turned to look at them on the Ferris wheel, with her sloping nose and ruddy cheeks. She did her best to paint a picture of the woman with words.
Theodore added in his own details, and between the two of them, the woman that appeared on the page in front of them was vaguely recognizable.
“Thank you,” Theo said, nodding at the sketch. “You’ve captured what we need.”
“This was a good idea,” Grace admitted as Theodore paid the sketch artist handsomely.
“I want to talk to Oliver again,” Theodore said, tucking the sketch into his pocket. “See if he might recognize the person who was following us.”
“Let’s go together, then,” she said. “I have some questions to ask him myself.”
They passed Oliver’s lawyer, Clive Marpels, on their way into the jail. Theodore spoke to the front guard in lowered tones, and then they were led once again into the interrogation room.
Oliver looked pale, but he instantly perked up when he saw them. He rose, his wrists handcuffed.
“Theodore,” he said. “Grace. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“We’ve come bearing questions that might help your case. Do you recognize this person?” Theodore asked, laying out the picture in front of him.
Oliver looked at it carefully. After a long moment, he shook his head. “Should I?”
“She was following us in the days before Harriet died,” Grace said. She watched him closely as he took in the sketch. He was quiet for a long time.
But then he shook his head. “I was so caught up in the fair, in being with Harriet. I wasn’t paying attention to anything else. It all feels like it was a haze.”
When he looked up at them, as forlorn as a child who thinks he failed an exam, Grace tried to hide her disappointment.
She said, “It’s all right. We’re just exploring every possibility.
And I had another thought. Why would the murderer kill Harriet in such a public place?
Why do it when it would draw so much attention? ”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Oliver admitted.
“The only thing I can think of is that someone clearly set you up to take the fall for it. They put something in Harriet’s drink, then had you hand it to her. Could it have been the bartender? Are the police looking into that at all?”
“There were two bartenders working that night and they were right next to each other. They both vouched for the other that neither put anything in the drink,” Theodore said.
“That doesn’t mean that they didn’t,” Grace said.
“Except that neither has any connection to Harriet. There’s little to no motive, so the police dropped it,” Theo said.
Grace sighed. “So the real question is, who benefits if you are accused of murder?”
Oliver blanched, leaning forward.
“You think someone was coming for me? And Harriet just got in the way?” He looked like he was about to be sick.
“It’s worth considering,” Theodore said.
“The only people I can think of are the Gatewoods. Father screwed them with a business investment. They might have seen an opportunity to make us pay.”
“I know about that,” Grace said. She quickly scrawled it in her notebook. “I’ll see if I can talk to them tonight.”
“If I’m the reason Harriet was killed…” Oliver said. His face had taken on a gray tinge, his unwashed hair falling into his eyes.
“You didn’t do this,” Grace said. With a look to the guard for permission, she knelt beside him. “Whoever did this bears responsibility for their actions. They and they alone.”
Theodore carefully tucked the image of the mysterious woman into his own coat pocket for safekeeping. He stood and conversed with the guard in the corner, giving Grace and Oliver a moment alone.
“Grace,” Oliver said, turning to her urgently. “I remembered something that I need to tell you. I’ve been going over and over it in my memory.”
Her stomach sank as he bent forward to whisper into her ear.
“The night Harriet died,” he whispered, “it was Earnest who handed me the glass.”