Page 21 of The Highland Heist
“You returned directly after?” Frederick’s tone remained neutral, though Grace detected the curiosity beneath it.
“Well …” Miss Steen hesitated, her face reddening. “I usually stop by the butcher’s on the way back. Just to check sales for Cook.”
Good heavens! Could the woman’s face get any redder?
“Miss Steen.” Frederick took his time, studying the woman, who looked away. “I feel as though there is more to your visit to the butcher’s than you’re confessing.”
She swallowed audibly and looked away, pinching her lips closed.What on earth?
And then Grace understood. “Is there someone at the butcher’s who you fancy, Miss Steen?”
The woman’s face flushed a brilliant tomato hue. “Now that ain’t none of your business. And I never let my visits interfere with my work.”
Grace sent Frederick a look. Miss Steen’s defensiveness confirmed it, though Grace decided to pivot gracefully, rescuing her from further embarrassment. “And Mrs. Dixon? What was she doing while you were out?”
“How should I know?” Miss Steen shrugged. “She didn’t tell me her business.”
A splash of cold unease slid over Grace’s thoughts. For someone who fancied herself an amateur sleuth—her inspiration drawn liberally from the pages of Mary Roberts Rinehart—this wasn’t her most brilliant moment. Her sister’s life might depend on her wit, yet here she was, muddling through as if she were a dim-witted side character.
Frederick, far less prone to narrative despair, took the reins. “You mean to say she didn’t accompany you?”
Then why would Lillias lie? Unless …
“Accompany me?” Miss Steen snorted. “The lady”—she laced the word with a sarcasm thick enough to spread on toast—”she wouldn’t be caught dead walking with me. High-and-mighty types don’t mingle with the help. Like I said, she put on airs. Once a grand dame, always a grand dame—until the bottom falls out. No wonder Mr. Dixon took to gambling.”
Grace’s mind raced. “Do you have any idea where Mrs. Dixon may have gone?” she asked, fighting the knot tightening in her throat. “Had she stayed at home?”
“Not a clue,” Miss Steen said with another shrug. “She wasn’t exactly confiding in me, now was she?”
Thankfully, Frederick intervened, because Grace was beginning to wonder if she knew her family at all. “One last question, Miss Steen. When was the last time you saw Mrs. Dixon before you left for your walk this morning?”
“Last I saw her was when I left the house with the baby.” Miss Steen looked between the two of them. “She was dressed in her best and drove right past me in one of those cars, headed toward town.”
But she was certainly back when Frederick and Grace had arrived.
Back and standing over Tony’s dead body with a knife in her hand.
Grace pressed her eyes closed for a moment, attempting to process everything. Not to mention that her sister had lied about being on a walk with Miss Steen.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Steen.” Frederick stood, offering his arm to Grace. “Please remain nearby in case you are needed. There is a good chance some officers may stop in tomorrow to engage in further investigation.”
Miss Steen didn’t answer, but walked with them to the door.
Frederick increased his pace to the car once the door closed behind them, leading Grace to the passenger side, before taking his own seat behind the wheel. No wonder he wanted to drive back. She was shaking like a leaf.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, looking back at the house.
“We’ve stumbled into something with claws, Grace.” Frederick’s tone was steady, but his grip on the steering wheel betrayed him. “And with this being your family, we’ll need to stay especially sharp.”
She nodded, drawing a deep breath, but it barely settled her nerves. Grace prided herself on her composure; now she felt like a trembling heroine in a Gothic novel. It wasn’t her style. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but as she rested her hands on her lap, the prick of something in her pocket drew her attention.
The letter. From Lillias to Miss Steen.
Grace pulled the note from her pocket as Frederick drove the car away from Miss Steen’s house.
“I think we’ve earned the right to read this now,” she said, unfolding it. “If nothing else, it might help us understand her state of mind.”
Frederick glanced at her. “Or protect her from herself.”
