Saga picked a few of the thorns from her shoelaces before giving up. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I do not imagine she’ll be the most forthcoming—do you think you can slip away to look around?”
“Sure,” shrugged Saga. “I’m a seasoned ‘I was just looking for thebathroom’ kind of snoop.”
Avery blinked at her.
“I got this,” she reassured.
Varney House was somehow worse for wear than the grounds that surrounded it. Where plants were able to grow and thrive, the manor itself did not have the good fortune of being able to care for itself. It appeared as if perhaps a decade or so prior someone had attempted to restore the brickwork, but stopped in the middle of the process, leaving half of it a deeper shade of red, and the other crumbling and pale. Three stories tall and sprawling, it might have housed as many as eight or nine bedrooms, though nearly all of the curtains were drawn over the abundant windows.
“Then again, if we split up, I may get murdered,” said Saga.
The front door, white paint cracked and peeling, opened, and Carys Varney darkened the entryway. “Did anyone see you?” she hissed quietly as they approached. “Hear you?”
“Yep, definitely gonna get murdered,” Saga muttered under her breath.
“No,” Avery called to Carys.
“Good,” Carys visibly relaxed. “Gossip grows in this neighborhood faster than weeds.”
Avery wondered who exactly Carys thought would be listening. True, there were many people on the King’s Road now, but they were all so bustling and busy with their own activities that Avery was certain a myriad of things would have gone unnoticed. She also had taken note that the surrounding residences were all newer and more metropolitan. While it was likely Carys’s many neighbors had their own theories about the strange dilapidated mansion beyond the wall, she doubted they were anything like the sort of society gossips the woman was so afraid of.
Carys frowned upon seeing Saga, and Avery wondered if the camera stationed outside was functioning—or perhaps even fake. “I thought you were a doctor.” It sounded like an accusation.
“I’m consulting on this case per Inspector Hemlock’s request,” Sagaanswered, surprisingly stoic.
“What case?”
“Do you really want to talk about this out here?” asked Avery, taking advantage of the woman’s clear paranoia.
Carys peered around the yard as if she suspected society-page reporters might be hiding behind tree trunks before gesturing for them to enter.
Avery saw the tension in her companion’s shoulders as she followed Carys inside. She shared Saga’s apprehension but did not feel in any danger. If anything she began to worry that not only was Carys not the one they were looking for, but that perhaps this would end up being a waste of time. Still, leave no stone unturned. Things were not always as they seemed, and she was far too out of practice to leave on first appearances alone.
Inside, the house smelled musty and faintly of mildew. There was a cloud of dust that never settled, merely danced in and out of the shafts of dim light. The paint on the walls was cracked and peeling at the corners, and there was a pattern of water damage on the far wall. It was not filthy, but it did carry the perception of a house that, while occupied, was not particularly lived in.
Avery waited for the door to close behind them. She focused her breath. Calm. Safe. Trustworthy. “Were you very well acquainted with Alistair Campbell?”
Carys frowned, the dim light overhead deepening the wrinkles and lines in her skin. “Who?”
“Eira’s doctor,” Saga prompted. “He’d been treating her for several years? Was a good friend of your cousin’s family?”
A slight realization dawned on the older woman’s face. “Oh. I’d never really spoken to the man. We didn’t run in the same social circles. I don’t expect you to understand, it’s a matter of breeding.”
Something wasn’t right. Avery hadseenCarys talking to the doctor at the funeral. “You didn’t even exchange words at the funeral?” she asked.
“It wasn’t really what I’d call the social event of the season,” said Carys. “I barely spoke with anyone.” Her face contorted angrily. “And if I’d knownshe’d be such a disrespectful cow, I never would have gone in the first place!”
Avery exchanged a look with Saga, who brought out her notepad to begin taking notes as she had before. “Sorry, who was disrespectful to you at the funeral?”
“Eira, of course!”
“Eira was disrespectful at her own funeral?” asked Saga.
“Don’t be daft,” snapped Carys. “She was disrespectful to me in her will.”
“Ah, yes,” sympathized Avery.
