Page 14 of The Highland Heist
Officer Todd gave his head a shake. “Nothing, sir, but the rain’s put me off for a bit. I can send a man back to give a more thorough look later.”
“A very good notion, Todd.” Detective Johnson paused, as if in thought for a moment, and then lifted Frederick’s jacket to peer at Tony’s body beneath. “I’m concerned for Mrs. Dixon’s safety, Todd. What do you think?”
“My safety?” Lillias nearly shrieked, standing so quickly she swayed.
Detective Johnson jumped to his feet to steady her, gently guiding her back to the couch. His frown deepened as he withdrew his hands, looking slightly perplexed by her distress. “Now, Mrs. Dixon, consider this: If the killer planned everything so meticulously to frame you for murder, it suggests you or this house may have been targeted. I’d feel better leaving an officer here to guard the premises. I strongly encourage you to remain at home for the next few days.”
“Remain at the house?” Lillias’ voice rose to a near panic. “Under guard?”
“Only until we gather more answers,” the detective assured her. He exchanged a brief look with Frederick, who gave a slight nod.
Grace raised a brow. Did the detective already recognize Frederick’s knack for solving mysteries? Surely a man trained to notice details would appreciate Frederick’s skills.
“We don’t know how long Mr. Dixon has been dead,” Detective Johnson continued, glancing toward the body.
“It couldn’t have been long,” Grace offered. “His face was pale but not completely ashen, and his lips showed no signs of discoloration when we arrived.”
Lillias gasped at her side, and Grace sent her a look. Her sister stared at her with wide eyes.
“And his skin was neither cold nor clammy—dulled, perhaps, but not lifeless,” Frederick added, his brow furrowed in thought.
“I wouldn’t guess more than half an hour at the time of our arrival, if that.”
All eyes turned to Miss Cox, who blinked up to them as if she hadn’t meant to speak aloud. She sat up straighter and cleared her throat, her cheeks flaming rouge.
Grace almost smiled.Good heavens, they’d hired the perfect maid!
Detective Johnson rounded the settee and lowered himself into the chair across from her. “How do you know this, Miss Cox?”
After a slight hesitation, the young woman raised those dark eyes. “My father was a coroner in Cornwall, sir. And just from the first look, well, I—I was raised around”—she shrugged a shoulder and grimaced—”dead people.”
Detective Johnson’s brows shot up. Frederick’s followed suit, and Grace couldn’t help but lean forward. “What a fascinating advantage you bring, Miss Cox. Far more useful than selecting hair clasps to match gowns, wouldn’t you agree, Frederick?”
Her darling husband’s brows creased, and he turned his attention back to Miss Cox.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the young woman continued hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to mislead you in Rome. Everything I told you—losing my mother on holiday and being robbed—was true. But I have more experience with”—she gestured toward Tony’s body—”the dead and dying than with styling hair or hemming dresses.”
Frederick exchanged a look with Grace before addressing Miss Cox. “We’ll discuss this later.”
Grace’s chest warmed. From the look on his face, he’d already forgiven the girl. Dear man.
“Well, this situation grows more interesting by the minute.” Detective Johnson braided his fingers together in front of him and turned back to Lillias. “Tell me everything you can remember from the time you entered the house, Mrs. Dixon.”
Lillias’ posture wilted further. Her voice faltered and tears overran her eyes as she described entering the house after a walk and finding her husband lifeless, in the middle of the room. Grace’s heart gave a pang. No, of course her sister had nothing to do with Tony’s death, even if—as the maid had said—they’d been fighting.
While the interrogation continued, Frederick and Officer Todd inspected the house at the detective’s suggestion, returning to report that the cook and errand boy were out running errands, presumably leaving the home empty that morning except for Tony.
After having lived with a handful of servants in her father’s home and then a dozen or more at Havensbrooke, Grace was struck by the dawning reality of the reduced state of Lillias’ household with fresh clarity. Since their roles had reversed—Grace marrying an earl and Lillias settling with a banker—their lives had diverged in ways Grace hadn’t fully appreciated until now. She held the esteem, title, and position Lillias had always craved. Without Father’s financial assistance, Lillias had been forced to rely solely on Tony’s income to sustain them.
Grace’s mind worked as she glanced at Lillias. Her sister’s reduced circumstances were glaringly apparent in the sparsely furnished room. What would that have done to her sister’s heart? Her emotions?
“Do you know where your maid might have gone after leaving here?” Detective Johnson’s voice cut through Grace’s thoughts, the man evidently unfazed by the domestic contrast.
“Louisa?” Lillias blinked, her brow furrowing. “She mentioned family in Westwood.”
“Excellent. And her full name?”
“Louisa Steen.” Lillias rubbed at her forehead and Grace looked up at the detective.
