Page 65 of A Dangerous Vision

Gideon tapped his fingers against his thigh, contemplating his impressions of Lance Pennington. The man had looked haggard on the morning of the twenty-ninth, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“So, he wasn’t there?”

“Well, the ticket attendant said that he himself works front of house, and Mr. Pennington is generally working in the back of house. He directed me to Mr. Warner, who serves as the theatre’s director. That gentleman shares an office with Mr. Pennington when he is at the playhouse.”

Thacker referred again to his notes, running his finger along the page as he read. “Warner says he saw Mr. Pennington at the theatre in the early afternoon, because they spoke at length about a new play Mr. Pennington had delivered.”

“Times?”

“He placed the encounter between and two and three and was uncertain of the time. It was his impression that Mr. Pennington departed afterwards, and he says he never saw him return that evening.”

Gideon made a noise of acknowledgement, but the information fired his thoughts. Why would the man’s brother wish to do Percival Pennington harm?

“Anything else?”

“Just completing the reports regarding the neighbors. Most attested to seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Only a Mrs. Paley at number five had anything to report at all.”

“What was that?”

“She said she saw a lady rushing down the street at a quick pace, but she could not recall the exact time. Only said that the rain had let up a bit, but night had not yet fallen.”

“Not even an estimate?”

Thacker flipped through notebook pages once more. “She says she takes her supper at approximately seven in the evening and it was sometime before then.”

“Any description of the lady?”

“She could make out very little. The glimpse was through her lace curtain. Mrs. Paley said she wore a hat, seemed youthful, and moved quickly, which is why she took note of her.”

“Thank you, Thacker. I’m off to Mount Street. Perhaps I’ll speak to her again. Number five, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Gideon stepped out of the station to hail a cab, he considered what he had told Electra. His impression that the killer must have been a man. But perhaps he was underestimating a lady’s strength, particularly if she was fueled by anger, fear, or some other strong emotion.

A woman’s approach might have caught Pennington off guard in a way a gentleman’s wouldn’t.

The cab ride was surprisingly swift as traffic was a bit lighter before the end of the workday for most Londoners. After climbing the single step at 12 Mount Street, he knocked at Pennington’s front door and Mr. Burton answered soon after.

“Detective Inspector.” Burton’s brows rose in apparent surprise and then with a hint of curiosity.

“Good afternoon, Burton. Is Mr. Lance Pennington at home?”

“He is, Inspector. Please come inside and I will determine whether he is available to speak to you.”

“Is Miss Faraday at home?”

“She’s not, Inspector. I believe she’s calling on a friend.”

While Gideon stood, bowler hat clutched in his hands, he noted that the townhouse had been decked in black to signify the mourning period for Pennington. A mirror had been covered in black cloth, and black ribbon hung around a portrait he’d only glimpsed on his first visit. Now, he noticed it was of Pennington, his brother, and an older man, who he guessed was their father. The father had his hand resting on Percival Pennington’s shoulder, likely to signal that he was the eldest, the heir.

Burton emerged from a door down the hall and approached.

“He will see you, Inspector. I’ll take you back.”

Gideon followed him to the threshold of a dark study paneled in wood, with dark green drapes pulled, keeping out of most of the light. Bookshelves lined one wall, and gaslight sconces illuminated the room.

At the far end of the study, Lance Pennington stepped out from behind a desk piled with documents and ledgers.