Page 37 of One Last Lie

He waits for me on the porch and bows slightly in greeting. “Miss Mary. It’s good to see you again.”

“Cecilia’s not here,” I say, a little too curtly. “She’s taking the children to school.”

His eyes light up. “That’s wonderful.”

I blink. “It is?”

“Yes. I was actually hoping to speak to you.”

The blood leaves my face. He must see this because he quickly says, “To discuss the children. I feel you can give me a more objective assessment than their mother can, and if they’re not here to walk in on us, then we can both feel free to speak candidly.”

“Ah.” I hesitate a moment, but then I recall the tapes Elijah showed me. Perhaps I can learn something from talking to Doctor Harrow that can help me as I look into Johnathan’s murder.

I smile and say, “Come on in. I should warn you, the housekeeper here can be a bit of an eavesdropper, so not all we say can be expected to be completely private.”

“Perhaps we should proceed into Johnathan’s study? It’s my understanding the room is reasonably well soundproofed.”

My smile fades slightly. "It's not been cleaned in a while, I'm afraid."

He lifts his eyebrow. “Have you been inside then?”

Damn it.

“I stumbled across it when I was learning the layout of the house.”

“Well, I don’t mind a little dust. It really is important that we speak.”

“Yes,” I agree. “It is. Very well. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, Earl Grey please, if you have it.”

I smile again. “A man after my own heart.”

He follows me into the kitchen, and we make small talk as I brew the tea. “How do you like it here so far?” he asks.

“The children are wonderful,” I say, “and I’ve enjoyed getting to know Miss Cecilia.”

“And the other staff?”

I hope perversely that Theresa somehow hears the next part. “Well, as I said, the housekeeper is somewhat nosy. I’m not sure I trust her much. The chef is private, but when we do talk, I enjoy his company. And the driver Javier is kind. Overall, I’m sure it could be worse.”

“I’m glad to hear it. No cream, thank you.”

We take our tea to the study. Part of me expects the place to have been ransacked since last night, but it appears the same as I’ve left it.

In the end, we don’t even walk into the study. “The library is fine,” Doctor Harrow says, “It’s soundproofed just like the study, and there are no secret compartments here for nosy housekeepers to hide in.”

I cast him a suspicious look. “You seem to be quite familiar with the house’s layout.”

“Of course,” he says, taking a seat in one of the two richly upholstered high-backed leather chairs in the library. I spent considerable time with Johnathan, as you know. He loved this house. He knew it quite well, probably better than anyone.”

I take the chair across from him and wonder if Johnathan was responsible for the paintings and sculptures I find two nights ago. “Did he now?”

“Of course. He grew up here. But let’s not talk about him. Tell me how the children are doing?”

I sip the tea and weigh my response. I decide to be more candid than I am the last time he and I talk. “They’re recovering, but they have a long road ahead of them. Samuel has regressed emotionally and behaves and acts like a child roughly half his age. Isabella is filled with grief and anger and has no idea how to cope with both emotions. She’s become fiercely protective of Samuel and quite aloof and antagonistic to others. Although recently, she has shown signs of overcoming that behavior.”

Doctor Harrow nods. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that they’re struggling. I can’t say I’m surprised, though. This family was utterly dependent on Johnathan. His loss has created a vacuum that has left all four of them directionless.”

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