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“No, he hasn’t. At least not so far as I know. He didn’t say anything about that when he was here.”
“Then what? Come on! What’s happened?” He spoke gently, but there was an edge of anxiety in his voice.
“Why would he do it, Patrick? It doesn’t make sense! And kill Morley Cross? You think he did that, too, don’t you?”
“Most crimes don’t make sense, when you think of them afterward.”
“They make sense at the time to the person who commits them,” she answered. “That’s how you catch them. People steal things because they want them, or they want to sell them, or take them away from whomever has them. They attack people because they’re angry and can’t control their rage. Or they want to silence them because they know something, or will say something, or they’re jealous or greedy. Or they hate someone for any number of reasons. Or they need to—”
“All right!” he cut her off. “I don’t know why Sidney did it. I don’t know why he took the money. It’s little enough over time, but if someone knew about it, I can see why he would want to make sure they didn’t tell on him. And Morley Cross was in a perfect position to know. He worked in the same department. Perhaps he even blackmailed Sidney over it. But that wouldn’t explain about Rebecca. I don’t know. But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a reason. Tobias saw him! There isn’t any doubt about it. Even if it makes no sense at all. Maybe he was drunk? Or it was a stupid…someone dared him to! Or he had some grudge against Tobias that we don’t know about. It doesn’t matter. He was there!”
She did not look at him. “Unless Tobias was mistaken.”
He looked exasperated. “He wasn’t guessing. He knew. He wouldn’t swear to it in court and ruin a man’s career on a guess.”
She did not answer.
“Is that what you think of him?” he said, his voice low, carrying hurt as well as anger. “What did Daniel say to you?”
What could she say, without betraying one or the other? “That it doesn’t make any sense. That there’s something bigger that we don’t yet know.”
“Such as what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel has to think that! He’s defending Sidney. He has to look for anything he can! What would you do in his place?”
“The same,” she said softly. “I’d look for an explanation that made sense. I’d ask someone who knew anything about it. I’d…I’d try to break Tobias’s identification, but I hope I’d do it honestly.” She stepped away from him and looked up at his face. “I’d have told Sidney to plead guilty to the embezzlement, even if he was innocent, and so prevent anyone raising the whole issue of the assault. He would then offer to pay the money back, and expect dismissal from the service. And before you say it, I know Daniel didn’t do that because at first he believed that Sidney assaulted Rebecca and deserved to pay for it, even indirectly. I don’t know what Sidney thought! Maybe that he’d get away with it all.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Did he embezzle the money, Patrick?”
He winced. “Do you mean did I make it look that way?”
“No, not you. But do you suspect that Tobias Thorwood did?”
He was silent for a long time.
She did not move away from him.
“I don’t know,” he said to her. “I didn’t. I really didn’t. And I would stake a lot that he really believes he saw Sidney in his house that evening.”
Jemima did not have to say that she believed him. He would see that in her eyes, feel it in the way she touched his face, gently, with her fingertips, before she kissed him.
CHAPTER
Sixteen
THOMAS PITT HAD a study at home in addition to his office, and it, too, was lined with books. It was the one place where he was allowed to be untidy. No one commented; even the maid was not allowed in. In spite of appearances, he knew where everything was. Now he stood by the window and thought about missing Jemima when she moved to America and married the man she loved. He was realizing it far more since she was home—no, he should say back in England. Her home was wherever Patrick was now. He would have expected Charlotte to follow him, too, had his work taken him elsewhere, and he never doubted that she would have. Now that Cassie and Sophie were in the world, in their world, rather than just photographs, letting Jemima go and realizing it might be a year, even two years before they saw her again was difficult.
/> Pitt liked Patrick. He even trusted him. And it was obvious that he made Jemima happy. He clearly loved her, and more surprisingly, he stood up to her! It remained to be seen how long he would stand up to his daughters! Cassie reminded Pitt of Jemima when she was that age. Cassie had many of the same characteristics, the same curiosity, and the same absolute trust that he would never hurt her. That was what reached him the most deeply, with a wave of sudden emotion that caught him unawares.
He had made it a point of honor not to inquire into Daniel’s cases. It would look like interference, as if he believed that Daniel was not man enough to solve them himself. But this case troubled him in a different way from others, because although he did not know how—and he had very carefully refrained from asking—it clearly affected Jemima very closely.
He closed the study door behind him and went into the drawing room. He knew Cassie and Sophie were in bed. Patrick was talking to Charlotte. They seemed to get along very well. Maybe they were both working at it, for Jemima’s sake, but it looked from the outside to be perfectly natural. Jemima was standing at the end of the room by the French doors, not yet closed from the warm August darkness. She was perfectly still, and there was a tension in her face, in the way she held her shoulders. He ached to do something about it. She was afraid. He knew that more clearly than if she had actually said so. Looking at her stiff shoulders and the graceful way she held her head, he could see Charlotte in her, and Cassie, too.
“Like to go for a walk?” The words were out before he thought about them. “Only to the end of the garden.”
She hesitated a few seconds. Did she fear he was going to ask her what was troubling her? She was right: He was, wasn’t he?
“Yes,” she said at last, turning toward him. “Let’s go. I always took my troubles to the end of the garden. Do you remember the time you had me write them down on a piece of paper, and then bury it there?” Her expression was filled with too many mixed emotions for him to read.
