was both stupid and cold-blooded enough to have committed murder rather than let Maria make a scene at the wedding?
Why? To protect Phinnie from embarrassment?
That was absurd, even insane.
Then, sitting on the hard bench that served as a bed, shuddering with cold in the bare, iron-barred cell, she knew the answer. Not to protect Phinnie from embarrassment at all, but to make certain that the wedding went ahead and Phinnie became part of the powerful Albright family, with its immense wealth. Harley had all but hinted as much to Officer Flannery. And then Phinnie would reward her appropriately.
That, of course, had assumed she would not be caught! Now all she would gain was a length of rope to hang her, or whatever they did with murderers in New York!
Would anyone tell her parents? Surely they would?
Then her father would come over and he would find the truth. He had no official status as a policeman, oranything else, here in America, but that would not prevent him. He would do anything to save her. She was not guilty of anything except … what? Foolishness? Placing her trust in the wrong person? Overconfidence in her own ability? Perhaps pride? It was a miserable thought.
She was given supper; by then she was hungry enough to eat the rough and tasteless stew. The bed was hard and lumpy and the whole cell was bitterly cold. She slept very badly and woke up so stiff she could not move without pain. And of course there were no clean clothes for her, nothing even to wash in except cold water.
About the middle of the morning, the woman in charge told her that she had a visitor, and to straighten herself up and prepare to be conducted to the room where she could speak to him. She did as she was told, wondering if it would be Harley Albright. What could she say to him? He had practically accused her of killing Maria Cardew in a secret agreement with Phinnie, to save her from any embarrassment in her new life. She hated him for that so much she felt as if she would choke on her words if she even tried to speak to him. He was the one who had asked for her help in finding Maria.And yet, furious as she was, she also knew that he was trying to protect his family. That part she could believe, and even sympathize with.
But when she was conducted to the interview room, her hands again shackled behind her back, it was Mr. Rothwell Albright who stood up from the hard-backed wooden chair, not Harley. He looked tired and so pale it was as if the cold had seeped through everything he wore and reached into his bones. Was it the prospect of scandal that affected him so much?
He looked at her with distress. “Are you all right, Miss Pitt? Unhurt?”
“I am not physically anything worse than stiff and cold, thank you,” she replied. She softened her voice. He had at least come to see her. She should be grateful for that. “Would you please contact my father to let him know what has happened to me? I have no way of doing so myself.”
“Should it prove necessary, of course I will,” he replied. His voice was gravelly, as if he had not slept either.
“It is necessary,” she said, with rising panic very nearly breaking through. Had he no idea what was happening? “They have accused me of killing Mrs. Cardew!I didn’t even touch her! There was nothing I could do to help her.”
“I am afraid it seems otherwise,” he answered slowly. “Poor Maria. She did not deserve to die in such a way. She was a good woman … misguided, perhaps, but not evil.”
There was real grief in his face, in his eyes. It seemed that he did not share Harley’s view of Maria, whatever else he felt.
“Mr. Albright, I did not harm her in any way,” Jemima said earnestly. “Mr. Harley asked me to help find Maria and persuade her not to attend the wedding and cause embarrassment. That was all I attempted to do. I never saw her at all except for a brief glimpse in the park, and then the next morning when she was dead. I have no idea who hurt her.
Why? To protect Phinnie from embarrassment?
That was absurd, even insane.
Then, sitting on the hard bench that served as a bed, shuddering with cold in the bare, iron-barred cell, she knew the answer. Not to protect Phinnie from embarrassment at all, but to make certain that the wedding went ahead and Phinnie became part of the powerful Albright family, with its immense wealth. Harley had all but hinted as much to Officer Flannery. And then Phinnie would reward her appropriately.
That, of course, had assumed she would not be caught! Now all she would gain was a length of rope to hang her, or whatever they did with murderers in New York!
Would anyone tell her parents? Surely they would?
Then her father would come over and he would find the truth. He had no official status as a policeman, oranything else, here in America, but that would not prevent him. He would do anything to save her. She was not guilty of anything except … what? Foolishness? Placing her trust in the wrong person? Overconfidence in her own ability? Perhaps pride? It was a miserable thought.
She was given supper; by then she was hungry enough to eat the rough and tasteless stew. The bed was hard and lumpy and the whole cell was bitterly cold. She slept very badly and woke up so stiff she could not move without pain. And of course there were no clean clothes for her, nothing even to wash in except cold water.
About the middle of the morning, the woman in charge told her that she had a visitor, and to straighten herself up and prepare to be conducted to the room where she could speak to him. She did as she was told, wondering if it would be Harley Albright. What could she say to him? He had practically accused her of killing Maria Cardew in a secret agreement with Phinnie, to save her from any embarrassment in her new life. She hated him for that so much she felt as if she would choke on her words if she even tried to speak to him. He was the one who had asked for her help in finding Maria.And yet, furious as she was, she also knew that he was trying to protect his family. That part she could believe, and even sympathize with.
But when she was conducted to the interview room, her hands again shackled behind her back, it was Mr. Rothwell Albright who stood up from the hard-backed wooden chair, not Harley. He looked tired and so pale it was as if the cold had seeped through everything he wore and reached into his bones. Was it the prospect of scandal that affected him so much?
He looked at her with distress. “Are you all right, Miss Pitt? Unhurt?”
“I am not physically anything worse than stiff and cold, thank you,” she replied. She softened her voice. He had at least come to see her. She should be grateful for that. “Would you please contact my father to let him know what has happened to me? I have no way of doing so myself.”
“Should it prove necessary, of course I will,” he replied. His voice was gravelly, as if he had not slept either.
“It is necessary,” she said, with rising panic very nearly breaking through. Had he no idea what was happening? “They have accused me of killing Mrs. Cardew!I didn’t even touch her! There was nothing I could do to help her.”
“I am afraid it seems otherwise,” he answered slowly. “Poor Maria. She did not deserve to die in such a way. She was a good woman … misguided, perhaps, but not evil.”
There was real grief in his face, in his eyes. It seemed that he did not share Harley’s view of Maria, whatever else he felt.
“Mr. Albright, I did not harm her in any way,” Jemima said earnestly. “Mr. Harley asked me to help find Maria and persuade her not to attend the wedding and cause embarrassment. That was all I attempted to do. I never saw her at all except for a brief glimpse in the park, and then the next morning when she was dead. I have no idea who hurt her.
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