Page 5 of A Dangerous Vision

Electra pushed away her unease and smiled at her friend. “It is your home, Cordelia. Of course, I forgive you.”

“It seems I frightened away someone who came to you for assistance.”

Had it been only fright? Mrs. Wilson had seemed both angry and frightened. Everything about their brief encounter had been unsettling.

“If she is determined to speak with me, we will arrange another sitting.” The matter with Mrs. Wilson felt unfinished, and the vision had confounded Electra.

“What is it you came to tell me?” she asked.

Cordelia had the bright-eyed look of someone with good news to share.

She beamed, then urged Electra to join her on the settee. Once seated, she clutched Electra’s bare hands. “It’s Kit.”

A warm flare of love resonated from that point of contact and Electra could see it in her friend’s eyes too.

Electra felt almost as much friendly affection for Cordelia’s husband as she did for Cordelia. In recent months, the two had spent more and more time together, though Kit still retained lodgings elsewhere in London. Cordelia had always been reticent to discuss why they had become estranged after only a few years of marriage.

“Kit is coming home,” Cordelia declared. “He has not yet given up his Cadogan Square address, but he can break the lease, I’m sure.” A bit of her brightness seemed to dim. “In truth, we have not sorted that part out.” She gave an almost shy smile. “We have been talking and attending soirees together every evening. We haven’t spent a single day apart since our return from Scotland, and I told him it is time for him to come home.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Electra felt closer to Cordelia and Kit than anyone else in her life, except for Gideon, who her father had taken in when he was a child. Her circle of friends was small, but all the more beloved because of it.

“We’ve been out too often these past weeks, but tonight I would like us all to dine at home. Will you join us? Invite your Inspector Pierce, if you like.”

Cordelia refused to refer to Gideon as anything other than her Inspector Pierce, despite how often Electra corrected her.

“Actually, I have a prior engagement this evening.” Unbidden, Electra’s cheeks began to warm. “I am to meet Gideon for dinner.”

“Oh?” Cordelia’s tone climbed, digging for further details.

“It is Gideon’s birthday.”

“Electra, you should have said. I would have gotten him a gift from Kit and me.”

“He is not terribly fond of birthdays, and it took some convincing to get him to agree to dinner this evening.”

Cordelia nodded. “Understood, but please do give him our well wishes and invite him to dine with us soon.”

“I shall.”

Mrs. Hurst came in with a fresh pot of tea, and Cordelia busied herself pouring a cup for both of them.

As she did, the vision Electra saw when she touched Mrs. Wilson filled her mind—why had Gideon been there? Did it mean Mr. Wilson had engaged in some criminal enterprise? She assumed Mr. Wilson had been the blond man she’d seen.

A nagging sort of dread sat heavy on her chest. Her visions of future events were a rare occurrence, but when they came, they were often harbingers of tragedy.

Yet Mr. Phineas Wilson was deceased. The vision could not have foretold some future danger. And what did it have to do with Jane Wilson’s questions about her husband’s will? Previously, Electra’s visions always came unexpectedly and were related to the person she was touching when she saw them.

She considered sending Gideon a note, asking him to call, so that she could tell him what she’d seen and ask what he knew of Phineas Wilson. But why call him away from his work now when she would see him in a handful of hours?

Chapter Two

Rain had poured from midday to early evening, a torrent, bucketing down so fiercely at some moments that the windows of Vine Street station had rattled.

Detective Inspector Gideon Pierce intended to depart the station at a reasonable hour and had looked forward to seeing Electra all day, but the final details of a recently closed case, and all the paperwork it entailed, had kept him later than intended. By the time he lifted his head and glanced at the wall clock, the sky was still dark with storm clouds, but the downpour had diminished to a faint patter against the window glass.

Gideon stood, stretching the muscles of his back, and heard laughter filtering in from the hall. Not a typical sound at Vine Street. A moment later, Constable Braithwaite rapped at the threshold of his half-opened door.

“Pardon, guv. A few of us are gathering at The Black Bell to wish good tidings to Eames. Thought to ask if you wished to join us.”