Chapter 10 #2
“No new details at all, Inspector?”
“None that I can share.”
“Has the investigation stalled then?”
“Did I say that, Mr. Reid?”
“Will this killer ever see justice, Inspector, if you cannot find him?”
Gideon did his level best not to rise to the young man’s provocation. “The investigation commenced two days ago and will continue until the culprit is found.”
The tall blond, square-jawed reporter smiled at that and quickly scribbled it down on the tiny pad cupped in his palm. “That will do quite nicely.”
With a nod in Electra’s direction, the young man spun on his heel and approached one of the jurymen who lingered.
“Has your investigation stalled?”
Gideon scoffed. “Now you’re quoting an impertinent reporter?”
“I have an interest in this case, and I know you understand the multiple reasons why.”
“I do.” Gideon did, but that did not mean he wished her to get caught up in the investigation itself, however valuable her insights might be.
“Do you recall when you let me hold the calling card that you found on Pennington?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“The young lady who walked in on Pennington and another man arguing was Miss Faraday, I think. And the man he was arguing with was Gordon Callister.”
“She resided with her uncle, and Callister was known to visit and spar with Pennington.” Gideon wondered how many times Miss Faraday had observed her uncle’s conflicts with others, despite her claim of the man’s amiable nature.
“Let me accompany you when you speak with Miss Beecham.” Electra got to her feet and stood before him, close enough that he could detect the floral scent she wore.
He tried not to let it distract him or weaken his resolve. He faced her and couldn’t help but admire the look of steely determination he knew so well.
“I’m not going to seek out either of the Beechams yet. I have another priority.”
As if her prodigious mind was a clockwork, he could all but hear the gears moving. She craved details. Curiosity had always been an insatiable part of her nature.
“Shall we share a cab, and I can at least speak with you until Russell Square?” he asked.
“Will you tell me where you’re going afterwards?”
“Yes.” He shouldn’t. Heaven knew, details would only fuel her curiosity.
Traffic was busy near St. George’s, but they secured a hansom without much trouble.
Gideon called up, “Russell Square,” but Electra laid a gloved hand on his arm.
“No, Charlotte Street, please, sir.”
Electra climbed in the cab while Gideon stared at her wide-eyed, then climbed in beside her. As the driver directed the horse into motion and the carriage rolled into the clutch of London traffic, Gideon shifted to get a look at Electra.
“Charlotte Street. Why are you going there?” he asked.
Rather than reply, she dug into the black beaded reticule hooked over her wrist and withdrew an envelope.
“I found the letter that Mrs. Wilson sent me prior to our foiled session. Since she is the last person I gave a calling card to, I thought to call on her and ask about it. And also reschedule a sitting, if she wishes.”
Gideon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the notepad he carried with him constantly. He flipped it open and reviewed his notes of his conversation with Gordon Callister and his gut clenched at the confirmation.
“I had intended to visit that address,” he told Electra.
“The very same address.” She appeared surprised. “Why?”
Gideon hesitated. “Someone friendly with Pennington, Gordon Callister, has an associate at that address who I wish to speak to.”
“Is that associate named Mrs. Wilson?”
“No, that is not the name he gave me.”
Electra’s brows drew closer. A pensive look he was very familiar with. “A friend of Pennington’s, you say? And yet Kit described him as someone who complained about Percival Pennington.”
“Friendships can be complicated, can they not?”
The faintest blush bloomed on her cheek. “Yes, I suppose they can.”
She still wore a frown. “So, perhaps Mrs. Wilson resides with this other person you’re seeking.”
“That would be an extraordinary coincidence,” he murmured.
His mind churned with what it could mean; he had never liked coincidences. Or at least he never dismissed them as such.
The number Gordon Callister had given as that of his mistress, Eleanor Mahoney, was 22 Charlotte Street. The same address written on the envelope in Electra’s hand.
“When I spoke to Callister, he told me that he provided lodgings for his mistress at that address.”
Electra ran her gloved fingers over the address written on the envelope.
“Have you ever…?” Gideon swallowed down his next words, not certain he should ask it of her.
“Ever touched it without my gloves?”
Gideon nodded.
“I have. I often open my mail while wearing gloves now, since the Becknell case, but I did touch this one on the day it arrived.”
She’d had a vision of Lady Becknell’s death, and that is how the papers had portrayed her. As a death diviner. It was not an ability she wished to be known for.
“Shall I try again now?”
“Only if you wish to.”
Electra glanced at him as she freed the buttons on one glove and slipped it from her slim fingers. Then she quickly tugged the other off.
She closed her eyes and he studied the way her ink-black lashes fanned out, the way her brow furrowed slightly in concentration. He had never told her how honored he felt that she allowed him to observe her so freely at these moments.
Her shoulders dipped a bit, and she opened her eyes. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “Perhaps it’s been too long since I received her letter. It was a little over a week ago.”
Gideon felt her consternation. “Perhaps we should speak to Mrs. Wilson, or whoever we find at 22 Charlotte Street, together.”
A smile slowly lit her face. “Yes, together.”