Page 30 of A Dangerous Vision

Cordelia bent forward, sitting her teacup on the low table in front of the settee. “Will you tell Inspector Pierce what we’ve discussed here today?”

“I must, Cordelia.” She hoped her friend would understand. “He will wish to speak to you. And to Kit.”

“May I ask this of you then, Electra?” She reached out a hand.

But before she could say more, voices filtered in from the hallway beyond the closed drawing room door. A moment later, Kit burst in, striding forward to pull Cordelia up from the settee and into his arms.

“I saw the newspaper,” Kit whispered. “It will be all right. I promise you. It will be all right.”

She let out a keening wail and allowed herself to be engulfed in his embrace. The two held each other so tightly that Kit’s knuckles whitened where he gripped Cordelia’s shoulders. The sound of her friend’s weeping filled the quiet of the room.

Electra watched the two and felt her own heart constricting. The love between them was palpable, yet so was the fear.

“If you’ll both excuse me, I must go.”

They didn’t pull apart, but Cordelia lifted her head.

“Please petition him, Electra, that you may remain in the room with us when he comes,” Cordelia whispered, her voice ragged. “That’s that I wanted to ask of you.”

Electra didn’t know if Gideon would allow it. She had sat in while he’d questioned witnesses on several occasions now, but none of them had been as close to her and Cordelia and Kit.

“I will ask him,” she said, knowing Gideon would likely refuse.

Most of all, she needed him to know what she’d learned.

Chapter Seven

On the cab ride over to Mr. Callister’s St. James Square townhouse, Gideon pulled Percival Pennington’s diary from his pocket and began examining the pages. Pennington used full names rarely and abbreviations more often to note meetings, social events, and days when he would be arguing in court.

There were several mentions of “dinner with G. C.” or “billiards with Callister.” No mention of the Palladia club, but there was one “Gordie at club” noted two weeks prior.

Gideon noticed one pair of initials recurring frequently—meetings with a “D. D. at Regent Sq” or “D. D. at Rosebud.” Flipping through pages, Gideon stopped at an anomaly, running his fingers along the ragged remains of what seemed to be a ripped-out page. A few more pages in, he found another jagged remnant of a missing diary page.

The meetings with D. D. were the most consistent appointments Pennington seemed to have. They were noted every single week for the past several months, always two days during the week—Tuesday and Friday.

A notation for “Beecham” caught his eye. That meeting had occurred only a week prior, but there was no mention of whether it was with the father or the daughter, to whom Pennington had once been betrothed.

At the very back of the diary, Gideon found several addresses, including one in Soho Square that he suspected was the lodgings Lance Pennington had mentioned. He also spotted an address on Regent Square, seemingly the mentioned location where Pennington had met with D. D.

Soon his carriage drew to a stop at Callister’s townhouse, and Gideon hopped down, paid the driver, and tipped his head up to soak in a bit of the sun after the previous day’s torrent.

Before he reached the front door, he heard the strains of a violin. Someone was playing rather energetically.

His first knock was ignored, and the violin music continued, but when he pounded harder, the music stopped. A moment later, a balding, dark-haired man with sharp features glared back at him. A violin hung from his fingers by its scroll.

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“Mr. Gordon Callister?” Gideon’s mind struggled for a moment. Who lived in St. James Square and answered their own front door? As a detective working the district of Mayfair, he was accustomed to encountering servants before he crossed any threshold.

“Yes. And you are?”

“Detective Inspector Gideon Pierce.”

Callister’s testy demeanor faltered, and he lowered his eyes. “Of course. Please come in, Inspector Pierce.”

He opened the door more widely and ushered Gideon inside.

The house struck Gideon as every bit as richly furnished as any other townhouse in the square would be, and the man must have employed some servants, because every surface was polished to high sheen and fresh flowers had been set out on each available tabletop he could see.