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* * *
Lucille hurried quickly down the road, realizing only when she arrived at Irene’s that she’d forgotten the soup she’d claimed was her reason for leaving the house in the first place. If Leonard realized that as well, she did not know what she would tell him.
She could never have anticipated Marshal Decker’s appearance at her dining table. Had Leonard told her beforehand who it was that was coming, she would have done anything within her power to prevent the man from entering her home. She would have feigned illness, a headache, even death itself, to keep him away from her.
The fact that Leonard had kept the man’s identity a secret bothered her. It was as if he’d been trying to trick her; trying to surprise her with his sudden appearance so that he might get a reaction out of her. But what did he mean by doing such a thing?
At first, Decker had not seemed to think twice about her. Looking vaguely familiar was not a crime, after all. Before the meal could even end, however, she was almost positive he had put two and two together. The way he had looked at her was unmistakable. Her worst fears had come true—she’d been recognized. How, she still wasn’t sure. The paper this morning had said something about a witness who’d been able to give a description to authorities, but she had thought that story made up. None of the people they’d robbed had ever seen her face—she’d thought. Clearly, she must have been wrong or the marshal would never have recognized her.
She knocked loudly and quickly on Irene’s door, receiving no answer after a few minutes and deciding that neither her friend nor her friend’s husband were at home. The next logical place she could think to find them was at Meadow’s house, or perhaps Summer’s or even Belle’s. The three sisters were good friends of both Irene and herself, and Irene frequently dined with them.
Lucille made her way first to Belle’s, thinking she was more likely to find Irene with the youngest of the sisters. Their cook, however, informed Lucille that Belle and her husband, Sidney, had gone to Summer’s for dinner that evening. Summer was the middle sister. Lucille hurried over there, hoping the cook had been right.
When she arrived at the home Summer shared with her husband, Emile Poole, Sidney’s brother, she was surprised to find Meadow there as well. More than that, Meadow’s housemaid, Betty, was lingering about the place conversing with Georgianna Lemberton’s housemaid, Francis Frawley.
Lucille was shown into the parlor, and the women all turned to her, surprised but happy to see her.
“Where’s Leonard?” asked Meadow. “You didn’t leave him home to fend for himself, did you?” She laughed lightly to show she was joking, but Lucille was in no mood for jokes.
Her heart raced in her chest. “Leonard’s not here,” she said. “I... I was actually looking for Irene. Have any of you seen her?”
The women and their husbands said they had not but invited her to take a late dinner with them.
“Thank you, I’ve already eaten,” she said and started for the door. Betty came after her, stopping her before she could reach it.
“You don’t look well,” she said. “Is everything all right?” Her eyes were wide with worry.
“Yes,” said Lucille. “Everything’s fine.”
It was a lie, but she could hardly tell Betty what had really happened, especially in front of so many people. It felt as though Sidney and Emile, in particular, were watching her like she was some sort of specimen in a scientist’s lab, though that was probably all in her head. Perhaps if she and Betty had been alone it would have been different. Betty was easy to talk to, and Lucille was desperate for someone to speak with.
“Do you have any idea where Irene might be?” she asked, addressing the larger group.
“I think she said something about dining out this evening,” Francis told Lucille. “At a restaurant in town.”
“Do you know which restaurant?” she asked, but Francis did not.
“Is it so imperative you find her right now?” asked Sidney, looking worried. Lucille looked around and realized the only ones missing were Amos and his wife, Victoria.
“It is,” said Lucille. “Though I promise you it’s nothing to worry yourself over.” She did not mean to upset anyone, she only had to find her friend. “I’ll check at the restaurants in town,” she said, turning to go.
“We can call for Amos or Marshal Decker, if you like,” said Emile, trying to be helpful.
“No,” shouted Lucille. “It is all right, I promise you. I’m sure Irene is at a restaurant as suggested. If not, then I shall see her tomorrow. It’s nothing urgent.
She took her leave then, hoping it would not take her all night to track Irene down.
* * *
