Page 19 of The Highland Heist
“I’ve heard tell of female detectives but ain’t never seen one with my own eyes.” Miss Steen gave Grace a fresh look with an approving nod tagged on before she shrugged and looked back at Frederick. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’m glad to be rid of that house.”
Grace flinched, just barely, at the blunt statement.
“And with what Mr. K gave me to share my thoughts?” Miss Steen added. “I’m planning to leave this town as soon as I can.”
Mr. K.The name—or initial—landed like a stone in Frederick’s gut. Whoever this Mr. K was, he had chosen a loose-lipped informant.
Air whooshed from his lungs.
Unless, of course, that was the point.
But if there was some Mr. K involved, it likely meant Lillias wasn’t the murderer, didn’t it? Yet, it seemed thatsomeonewanted them to think so.
“How long had you worked for the Dixons?” Grace’s question brought Frederick back to the conversation.
“Two months back.” Miss Steen leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “Started about a month before the babe was born, but I’d heard about them long before.”
“Had you?” Grace continued.
“Reputations carry in small towns.” Miss Steen answered. “And based on all I’d heard I should have known better than to take the position.”
Frederick tilted his head. “Why is that?”
“Everyone knew about Mr. Dixon’s gambling,” Miss Steen said flatly. “Living with a man who can’t control his vices is hard enough for a wife, let alone a child.” She shook her head, her features dark with something that looked too personal to be feigned. “I grew up with a drunk. It’s no life—always waiting for the next blow to fall.”
Grace shifted beside him, her usual poise briefly disrupted. Frederick didn’t need to look to know her thoughts were racing, no doubt rearranging the details into chapters and clues, the way she did with her favorite mysteries.
If the whole town knew not only about Tony Dixon’s gambling but also any discord between him and Lillias, it didn’t bode well for Lillias’ reputation—or her defense.
“Are you saying”—Grace cleared her throat—”that Mr. Dixon was violent with his wife?”
“Violent?” The woman barked her laugh. “Not at all. He treated her as queenly as his funds would allow, letting her complain and shout to the top of her lungs about how poor they was. But he wasn’t happy and neither was she is what I’m saying.”
“So you found a household on edge when you arrived?” Grace leaned closer, her expression much too serious for his peace of mind. She felt it too. The hint of possibility that her sister may be in much more trouble than widowhood.
“Like you can’t imagine.” A ruthless grin erupted from the woman. “Those two were at each other’s throats day and night—or at least during the little time he was home. And then the babe coming into the mix …” She shook her head, her voice dropping with weary finality. “The only peace anyone got was when Mr. Anthony was out gambling or Mrs. Lillias was asleep. That’s the truth.”
Frederick exchanged a look with Grace, a little apprehensive to voice the next question. With a deep breath, he turned to Miss Steen. “And do you know of anyone who would want to cause Mr. Dixon harm?”
Miss Steen snorted, a sharp, knowing sound. “You mean, besides his wife?”
Frederick shot a quick glance at Grace, whose face had gone pale.Too pale.He reached for her hand beneath the table, squeezing gently as he spoke. “It’s a difficult accusation to make, Miss Steen.”
“I’m just telling you what I saw,” Miss Steen said, matter-of-factly. “Mr. Anthony wasn’t exactly a saint and, truth be told, neither was she. But a woman can only take so much before something snaps.” Miss Steen’s eyes narrowed. “The fact is that house was a powder keg long before anyone lit the fuse.”
Frederick’s grip on Grace’s hand tightened slightly. A powder keg, indeed—and they were standing squarely in its aftermath.
Besides Lillias?
Grace’s thoughts froze, and a chill took up residence throughout her body.
Surely not.
Lillias wasn’t capable of killing her own husband, or anyone else for that matter.
Was she?
After all, Grace had been the daughter in the family who’d indulged in all the gothic novels and mysteries, even staging her own investigations, which led to being trapped in a well in one instance and nearly arrested for trespassing on another.
