Page 71 of Disturbing the Dead
“Lord Muir’s reply chastised him for such worries. Women under his roof should accept that he knows best.”
I snort.
McCreadie smiles. “I agree. We can examine their correspondence later, in this fresh light. For now, I am troubled about Mr. Awad. Are we certain he left of his own accord?”
“We need more information,” I say, just as the maid raps on the door and tells us Lady Christie will see us now.
We are led to the garden, where Lady Christie sits by a small pond with the children. Phoebe is leaning against her, and Lady Christie strokes the girl’s hair while Michael pokes a stick into the water, his distant expression saying he’s barely aware of what he’s doing.
The gardens have been cleared and covered for winter, but it’s still a pleasant spot, the stone walls blocking the wind. One red ribbon on the ground tells me the bushes had been decorated before someone hastily removed the decor after Sir Alastair’s death.
When we appear, Phoebe jumps to her feet and wipes tears from her eyes. Lady Christie lightly touches her back.
“Lady Christie,” McCreadie says, removing his hat and dipping his chin. “Again, my sincerest apologies for this intrusion.”
“You are conducting an investigation. I understand it is necessary. Please, ask your questions.”
I glance at the children. When Phoebe only goes to stand near Michael, I look over at McCreadie and Lady Christie, expecting one of them to tell the kids to go inside.
McCreadie clears his throat. “The children might be more comfortable—”
“With me,” Lady Christie says, her voice firm. “They will be more comfortable with me, if that is their wish.”
“All right then,” McCreadie says. “Let us begin with the theft of the artifacts.”
So he’s really going to interview their mother with the kids right there?
Gray walks over to Michael and murmurs something. Michael nods and follows Gray to another part of the garden. That leaves me with Phoebe, and I’m going to guess that was also my cue to distract her.
“Shall we walk?” I say.
She nods and joins me as we head in the other direction.
Phoebe doesn’t say a word, and I’m shuffling through my options. Leave her to her silence? Ask something distracting? Ask something pertinent to the case despite her being a ten-year-old witness without a parent present?
“Lord Muir thinks one of the medical students killed my father,” Phoebe says, when we reach the far corner. “One of the women.”
I turn, my shock genuine.
Her gaze is down, and she has Michael’s stick in her hand and is dragging it through the dirt as she walks.
She continues, “He says one of them was at the house that night, and she murdered Papa because he opposed their entry into the university.”
I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, she continues, “Mimi thinks that is silly, and I said we should speak to you and Dr. Gray, but she says we cannot interfere. We must trust everyone to do their jobs properly. I still think you should know.”
“We are aware of Lord Muir’s suspicions, and they are being accorded all proper consideration.”
She glances over. “I hope that is a fancy way of saying you are ignoring them.”
“Ignoring them wouldn’t help. If someone is a suspect, they need to be cleared. Otherwise, in a trial, the barristers can say the police overlooked a suspect.”
“That makes sense.” She walks a few more steps, stick still dragging a line beside her. “It is true, then. That Papa spoke out against the women students, as Lord Muir says.”
Shit.
“I’m sorry.”
She keeps walking, and then says, “Papa always said he believed girls were just as smart as boys, that Michael and I could both become Egyptologists, if we liked. Or I could be like Mama and help with my husband’s work. Or I could be like Mimi and teach children.”
