Page 44 of One Last Smile

“My word,” I say, head reeling. Could Minnie’s murder not have been a murder after all?

“So, we went to the pub and had a drink. Well, I had a drink. Several drinks, actually. Minnie didn’t, of course, due to her condition.”

He sighed. “It was good. I felt like I did before everything, back when we were just friends and life wasn’t so complicated. Then I left her waiting for a cab. And…” He lifts his hands and lets them drop. “That’s how it ended. She was gone. I wish her well.”

I sip some of my chamomile. It’s still too hot, and the liquid burns my throat. I focus on that pain in an attempt to center my thoughts.

Eliza lied to me. She said that she and Minnie fought and that she let Minnie storm off alone instead of walking home with her. Why would she lie to me? Unless she thought Oliver was the killer?

I turn back to Oliver to see him smiling sadly at me. His grief certainly seems real, but plenty of killers are genuinely remorseful.

This is all too much. Too many people could have killed Minnie. Niall, Rupert, Eliza, Alistair, and now Oliver. Or she could simply have done what Oliver says. Honestly, his story makes sense. Many young women in her situation have done the same.

But it’s too much. My head aches trying to think which of the many stories I’ve heard and pieced together myself might be true. If only I could let this go.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry I told you. You’re here to teach Lucas, not to listen to the heartsickness of a young and still foolish man. I just… had to tell someone. Don’t tell my parents, will you? If they know that I allowed this family to suffer scandal to protect a promiscuous girl, they’ll be furious with me.”

“I won’t tell them,” I say.

I have no idea what I’ll tell anyone, or if I’ll even have anything to tell anymore. But it’s simpler to just agree.

He nods and stands. “Thank you, Mary. And thank you for listening.” He looks out the window, a wistful expression in his eyes again. “Wherever she is, I do hope she’s happy.”

He leaves me alone to wonder what I should do.

I sigh. I’m too tired for this. Perhaps it was a mistake to get involved at all. The situation is so complicated that I can’t be sure if anything I’m doing is going to help avenge an innocent girl or merely embroil an innocent family in yet another scandal.

I should focus on Lucas. I’ve neglected the poor young man. Perhaps it’s time to stop being a detective and start being a governess like I intended. Tragedy strikes daily, and Niall is right. I can’t pick and choose which tragedy inspires me to crusade. Leave that to others with more fortitude and intellect than I.

I head upstairs. I don’t need the tea to exhaust me anymore. Tomorrow, I will once more be Mary Wilcox, governess. And may Minnie Montclair rest in peace, whether she does so alive or passed on.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I hope to spend the next day bonding with Lucas again—finally convincing myself that’s a better use of my time than trying to talk to Dr. Chalmers again—but after Veronica leaves for a brunch, Lucas tells me that he’s going out to take photographs. I offer to join him, but he explains that it would be better if he were alone.

“It’s…” He blushes. “Well, I need to be quiet, or the subjects will be scared off.”

“Ah. And you fear that I will alarm them, and they’ll fly off or scamper away.”

He nods, reddening even further. “I’ll show you the pictures after, though. I can make another collage even.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I say. “Though… perhaps we’ll keep the focus on living subjects this time.”

He laughs. “Well, the dead ones can’t really scamper away, can they?”

The lightness in his voice reminds me of the chill I felt upon first meeting him. I remember the girl in the wall again. I hadn’t thought about her since discovering the painting, but now I can recall the fear I experienced when he looked at me with his wide, flat eyes and warned me about her.

He turns to leave, and I grab his arm. He winces and looks at me curiously, and I realize I’ve grabbed him too hard. I release him and ask, “Um…” I look around to make sure no one is left in the house to hear me, then ask, “Have you had any more visits from the girl in the wall?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not since Mum got rid of the painting.” His eyes widen. “You haven’t started seeing her, have you?”

“No,” I reply quickly. “No, I just… I was just concerned for you, is all.”

“Oh. Well, no. I think she’s gone.”

“Yes,” I say, relaxing a little. “I think she is.”

“Well… I’ll see you later.”

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