the way,” Harley replied a little sharply. “When Miss Pitt wasn’t in the coffee shop where I left her, I assumed she must have come here. A boy on the street told me he had seen her, and that she had gone to room 309.”
“When did you last see Mrs. Cardew alive, sir?”
“About twenty years ago, when she first met Mr. Cardew. It was through my family that they became acquainted. My father and Mr. Cardew are partners in business.”
“Yes, sir, you mentioned that.” Flannery’s face waspinched, his eyes bleak. It seemed he did not like Harley, for whatever reason. He looked at Jemima again. “Is this all true, Miss Pitt?”
Jemima realized with a chill that made her feel sick exactly how it looked. There was nothing she could deny.
“Yes …” she admitted.
Harley spoke before Flannery could. “Miss Pitt, if you moved the knife, however well you meant it, it would be a good thing if you told me. I know your devotion to Miss Cardew, but this is extremely serious. I will do my best to protect you, but really, only the truth will serve now.”
He was making it worse, making it sound as if he thought she could have killed the poor woman! Why? It would hardly protect Phinnie. The scandal of having her mother turn up at the wedding would be small compared with that of a murder. Did he really think she was so stupid, so impetuous and hysterical as not to know that? She stared at him, and the answer was clear in the sad, puzzled expression in his eyes.
“I did not touch her!” Her voice sounded frightened, as if she were close to losing control. “I did not touch anything. I didn’t even know for certain that she was Maria Cardew.”
“Yes, you did,” Harley contradicted her. “We saw her in Central Park yesterday evening. We followed her.”
“We were fifty yards away!” she protested. “She looks quite different close-up.”
“But it is the same woman, Mr. Albright?” Flannery said. “You are quite certain?”
“Yes,” Harley said decisively. “There is no doubt. I’m sorry. I … I understand your devotion to Phinnie,” he said to Jemima. “I believe you did this to protect her. It is my duty to my family now to see that you don’t in any way suggest that she had any part in this. I know how intensely she is looking forward to—”
Flannery cut him off with a glance. “If you are looking to protect your family, sir, you would not serve that purpose by suggesting that anyone in your household had a part in this.”
A dull color swept up Harley’s face, but he did not answer.
Flannery turned to Jemima. “I’m sorry, Miss Pitt, but I have no choice but to take you to the station for further questions.”
“But I have no blood on me!” Jemima protested. “I would have … if I had done that!” She indicated the body on the bed, but could scarcely look at it.
Flannery swiveled round to look at the kitchen, where the corner of a wet towel was visible in the sink. He looked back at Jemima.
“Please, Miss Pitt,” Flannery said quietly as another policeman came in through the door, followed by a third.
“I’ll do what I can,” Harley said to Jemima, then turned on his heel and left without looking at Flannery or speaking to him.
T he next few hours passed in a daze of misery. Jemima was taken in a closed carriage, her hands manacled together, down to the center of the city, where she was asked questions about her identity, her nationality, and her purpose here in New York. She was finally charged with the murder of Maria Cardew, and her belongings were taken from her, except the clothes she stood up in, and a small handkerchief. She was then placed in a cell and left alone, trembling and queasy with fear and shock.
How could this have happened, in the space of a fewhours? It was the middle of the day, yet breakfast time seemed as if it had been in another era. Did Harley really imagine that she had killed Maria Cardew? With a knife from the kitchen? Did he think she
“When did you last see Mrs. Cardew alive, sir?”
“About twenty years ago, when she first met Mr. Cardew. It was through my family that they became acquainted. My father and Mr. Cardew are partners in business.”
“Yes, sir, you mentioned that.” Flannery’s face waspinched, his eyes bleak. It seemed he did not like Harley, for whatever reason. He looked at Jemima again. “Is this all true, Miss Pitt?”
Jemima realized with a chill that made her feel sick exactly how it looked. There was nothing she could deny.
“Yes …” she admitted.
Harley spoke before Flannery could. “Miss Pitt, if you moved the knife, however well you meant it, it would be a good thing if you told me. I know your devotion to Miss Cardew, but this is extremely serious. I will do my best to protect you, but really, only the truth will serve now.”
He was making it worse, making it sound as if he thought she could have killed the poor woman! Why? It would hardly protect Phinnie. The scandal of having her mother turn up at the wedding would be small compared with that of a murder. Did he really think she was so stupid, so impetuous and hysterical as not to know that? She stared at him, and the answer was clear in the sad, puzzled expression in his eyes.
“I did not touch her!” Her voice sounded frightened, as if she were close to losing control. “I did not touch anything. I didn’t even know for certain that she was Maria Cardew.”
“Yes, you did,” Harley contradicted her. “We saw her in Central Park yesterday evening. We followed her.”
“We were fifty yards away!” she protested. “She looks quite different close-up.”
“But it is the same woman, Mr. Albright?” Flannery said. “You are quite certain?”
“Yes,” Harley said decisively. “There is no doubt. I’m sorry. I … I understand your devotion to Phinnie,” he said to Jemima. “I believe you did this to protect her. It is my duty to my family now to see that you don’t in any way suggest that she had any part in this. I know how intensely she is looking forward to—”
Flannery cut him off with a glance. “If you are looking to protect your family, sir, you would not serve that purpose by suggesting that anyone in your household had a part in this.”
A dull color swept up Harley’s face, but he did not answer.
Flannery turned to Jemima. “I’m sorry, Miss Pitt, but I have no choice but to take you to the station for further questions.”
“But I have no blood on me!” Jemima protested. “I would have … if I had done that!” She indicated the body on the bed, but could scarcely look at it.
Flannery swiveled round to look at the kitchen, where the corner of a wet towel was visible in the sink. He looked back at Jemima.
“Please, Miss Pitt,” Flannery said quietly as another policeman came in through the door, followed by a third.
“I’ll do what I can,” Harley said to Jemima, then turned on his heel and left without looking at Flannery or speaking to him.
T he next few hours passed in a daze of misery. Jemima was taken in a closed carriage, her hands manacled together, down to the center of the city, where she was asked questions about her identity, her nationality, and her purpose here in New York. She was finally charged with the murder of Maria Cardew, and her belongings were taken from her, except the clothes she stood up in, and a small handkerchief. She was then placed in a cell and left alone, trembling and queasy with fear and shock.
How could this have happened, in the space of a fewhours? It was the middle of the day, yet breakfast time seemed as if it had been in another era. Did Harley really imagine that she had killed Maria Cardew? With a knife from the kitchen? Did he think she
Similar Books
