Page 15 of The Highland Heist
“I’m sure my sister can provide more details tomorrow, Detective. She’s clearly exhausted.”
“Of course,” Johnson said smoothly, though his expression tightened. “I’ll return tomorrow after you’ve rested. In the meantime, I’ll be questioning Miss Steen.”
“Why would you need to visit her?” Lillias rose abruptly, tears welling in her eyes. “And—and I can tell you now that she wasn’t happy in her job. We—well, we docked her pay recently, and she threatened to leave before this morning. No doubt she’ll concoct some slander to make me and my poor husband seem villainous in your sight.”
“Every testimony has its biases, Lillias.” Grace interjected. “It’s human nature.” She sent the detective a pointed look. “Isn’t that right?”
“Indeed, Lady Astley.” His eyes narrowed, but he nodded curtly. “And we must strike while memories are fresh and evidence is within reach.”
“Exactly,” Grace agreed with a smile. “One never knows what clues might vanish after a day. Misdirection, accidental disposal—sometimes the very witnesses themselves disappear. Frederick and I have seen it all before in our mysteries, haven’t we? Curses, ghosts, secret passageways.”
Oh, what wonderful memories!
“Curses? Ghosts? Mysteries?” Lillias looked between them, bewildered. “How do you even know such things?”
“Books, mostly,” Grace replied with a light shrug. “Though I did mention in my letters to you that Frederick and I have solved a few cases. Detective Jack Miracle himself asked for our assistance on his last one.”
“Miracle?” Detective Johnson shot to alert. “The English detective who wrote a popular book about solving crimes?”
Grace’s attention flashed to Detective Johnson. “The very same.”
“I read his work. That last case of his was splashed all over the papers.” Johnson’s gaze sharpened, darting between Grace and Frederick. “How … convenient that you arrive just as a murder unfolds here.”
A chill prickled Grace’s skin at his sudden shift in tone. What was he insinuating?
“Are you suggesting we had some hand in it, Detective?” Frederick folded his arms across his chest in challenge.
“Everyone is a suspect.” Johnson’s smile was a crooked, humorless thing. “But I can rule out you and your entourage fairly quickly. A question or two with your driver or a look at your arrival tickets should suffice.”
He reached for his hat and fixed it firmly on his head before gesturing toward Todd with his chin as a cue to exit. “However,” he added, voice clipped and gaze settling on Frederick, “Idon’t intend to consult with you on this case. I’m more than capable of solving it without interference. Unlike Miracle,”—he spat the name as though it left a bad taste—”I don’t need an audience.”
Grace’s brows shot high at the clear insult. Who would ever insult dear Jack?
“We would never impose, sir.” Frederick remained unruffled by the accusation, his tone steady. “But should you require assistance, we would gladly help bring the killer to justice—for everyone’s peace of mind.”
Johnson dipped his chin in what might have been reluctant thanks before addressing Lillias. “Mrs. Dixon, expect me tomorrow afternoon.”
He cast the room one last glance, then strode out, Officer Todd trailing after him.
Little Thomas took the silence that followed as permission to announce his discontent with an earsplitting wail.
“He’s likely hungry.” Lillias’ voice sounded tired, and no wonder. With a deep sigh, she shifted toward Zahra and opened her arms. “I’ll see to him and then, if your servant will keep watch over him”—she nodded toward Zahra—”I should like to rest in my room, undisturbed.”
“Our servant?” Grace looked from Zahra to Lillias. “Oh Lillias, this is our adopted daughter, Zahra.”
Lillias mouth dropped open and for half a second no sound emerged. “Your—your daughter?”
“Yes. I wrote about her in the last letter.”
Lillias’ brow creased as she took Thomas into her arms, studying Zahra. “But—but she’s … Egyptian.”
“She is.” Grace took Zahra’s hand, pulling her close for a hug. “And ours. Between me, Zahra, and Miss Cox, I’m sure we can manage little Thomas just fine, can’t we, ladies?”
Zahra nodded solemnly. Miss Cox looked significantly less confident.
“I’m sorry to ask this, Mrs. Dixon.” Frederick stepped forward. “Should we find a hotel or would you like us to stay with you?”
Lillias glanced up, her expression dull. “We have two extra rooms, if Miss Cox and”—her gaze dipped briefly to Zahra—”the little girl don’t mind sharing.”
