Page 95 of A Treacherous Trade
“Oh God, Fiona! Are you all right? That must have been terrifying.” Amelia reached forward and pressed my fingers between her hands.
“Serves him right.” Beatrice knocked on the side table as if applauding with her knuckles. “Tell me you went to the police.”
“Croft was with me, and he apprehended the fellow. Who…” I bit my lip, preparing myself to deliver bad news. “He intimated that Isabelle James commissioned my attack.”
“Izzy?” Amelia gasped.
“OurIzzy?” Bea put the back of her hand to her mouth. “He must be mistaken.”
Amelia released me to reach for Beatrice, squeezing her arm. “You said she hasn’t arrived to work for the afternoon… Is she often tardy?”
“Never. And neither is she truant.” Bea had yet to cease shaking her head. “I don’t believe it. It had to be someone else using her name.”
“It wasn’t her name he gave me, but her description.” I clasped my hands together, hating the distress pinching the older woman’s face. She really did look quite unwell. “Can I get you anything?” I asked, feeling ineffectual and cumbersome.
“No, thank you, dear. Butler is bringing the tea.”
I nodded, wondering what to do next. “Is Indira about? I think the police would want to talk to her as well.”
“They’ll be here looking for Isabelle?” Bea asked.
“Yes, they’re on their way once Croft has my attacker secured in a wagon.”
Bea let out a beleaguered sigh. “Indira isn’t supposed to be here until this evening, but she left early last night, begging a terrible headache.” Digging fingers against eyes beset with more wrinkles than they had only a couple of nights before, she said, “I suppose the headache is contagious.”
Amelia hovered and tutted as if she was also at a loss for what to do.
“Could she be with Sophia?” I asked.
That got Bea’s attention. “Whyever would she be with Sophia?”
I grappled with what I ought to reveal and which of my suspicions needed to stay only that. Could I tell Bea she might lord over a den of vipers, just waiting to poison their next victim? Should I say that I was afraid that victim might be her?
“I saw them together yesterday, Sophia and Indira,” I admitted. I’d wait until Croft brought constables here, then we’d piece together the entire story.
“I never imagined they were close…” Bea looked into the middle distance, distracted. “I hated to lose Sophia, especially to that pompous arse. The Hammer.” She spat the name as if it tasted terrible. “What a ridiculous moniker.” She paused, horror dawning on her features. “Do you think Indira and Sophia have fallen afoul of whatever scheme Isabelle is caught up in?”
Even now, it seemed, she didn’t want to believe the worst of her girls.
“I truly can’t say,” I replied. “At this point, it seems as though anyone could be in danger.”
Butler appeared at the door carrying a tray with a china tea service, as silent and sinister as ever. Heavy lids and a shaking hand told me he’d had as much sleep as the rest of them last night, and his suit was in dire need of a laundering.
Beatrice thanked him and ordered him to send the remaining girls home for the day, as they’d be closing.
He nodded and left without a reply.
“Izzy, what were you thinking?” Beatrice whispered as Amelia poured out three cups and garnished each saucer with a delicate biscuit from an accompanying dish. “I couldn’t ever imagine… She’s always been such a sweet thing. Simple, all told. I hardly believe she has the wits to choreograph your attack, Fiona. Let alone anything so insidious as a murder.”
I put out a staying hand, in which Amelia set my cup and saucer. “We don’t know that she had anything to do with it just yet. The police only want to speak with her.”
“But why would she want to scare Fiona away from your investigation unless she had something to hide?” Amelia asked, stirring in two lumps of sugar and a healthy dollop of cream.
Bea clutched the handkerchief to her chest, and the lace settled into the wrinkles of her decolletage. “I can’t tell you what this does to me. The betrayal I feel.”
“I can only imagine,” Amelia said.
We drank deeply for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.
