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“And you two?” Gray says. “You were investigating a lead, I presume?”
I glance at Isla.
Grief flickers over her face before she says, “I fear the culprit is indeed Annis, at least for Gordon’s murder. And, worse, I fear she has taken steps to frame Sarah.”
“What?” Gray says.
Isla explains about the handwriting match between the letter clearly from Sarah and the box found in Ware’s office.
“Does that not implicateSarah?” Gray says.
Isla says, “Beyond not being able to imagine such a thing, I remember when we were younger and I overheard Mother once speaking to Annis. There had been an incident at school. Annis had added a herb with a laxative effect to another girl’s tea, yet she had Sarah brew the tea, making it seem as if Sarah was responsible. Wanting to believe the best of Annis, Mother suggested that it was a mistake and Annis did not intend for Sarah to be blamed, should anyone realize the tea had been tampered with. Annis admitted to adulterating the tea and agreed, yes, she did not intend for Sarah to take any blame.”
“You did not believe Annis,” Gray says.
“At the time, I wanted to. I still want to. I hope that she did not intend for Sarah to be blamed, but only that implicating her would weaken any case against Annis.”
“Because no one would think Sarah actually responsible. It would show how easy it is for someone—like Annis herself—to be framed.”
“Perhaps.”
Gray gazes out the window. “At the risk of underestimating Annis, I still find it hard to believe she would do such a thing. Either the murders or the blaming of her dearest friend. The handwriting may have seemedlikeSarah’s, but perhaps that is accidental. The killer utilized a feigned hand that happens to resemble Sarah’s. As proof that Annis framed Sarah, it is—I mean no disrespect, Isla—rather weak.”
“There’s more,” I say, grudgingly.
They both turn to me.
I hesitate, not for Annis’s sake but for theirs. I don’t want to be the one to lay more proof at their sister’s feet. Yet, if she did it, I can’t let her go free. That has been the guiding principle from the start, for all of us.
I tell them what I found, the key and the handwriting practice and the forged money transfer.
“It was most definitely Annis’s office?” Isla asks.
I describe how it looked and what I found inside.
“Yes, that is Annis’s,” Isla says.
“Sarah confirmed it,” I say. “I went to the wrong room.”
“And the key,” Gray says. “It is for the trophy room, I presume.”
“I couldn’t check, but it definitely wasn’t for the office.”
He clears his throat. “While I have hated to mention it, that part has bothered me. The locked trophy room. I fear we lost sight of it.”
I wince. “No, I lost sight of it. You didn’t remind me of it because it works against Fischer—or anyone outside the house—as a suspect in Lord Leslie’s death. It’s further evidence against Annis. Particularly if that key in her office is for the trophy room.”
“We shall need to check tomorrow,” Isla says.
We lapse into troubled silence for the rest of the ride.
Once we’re at the town house, there is no late-night snack, no lazing around with a glass of whisky. Gray and Isla declare they’re too tired to stay up. I follow suit.Yes, so terribly tired. I’ll see you in the morning.
Gray heads off first, and I start for my room, but then divert to slip back to where Isla is heading to her chambers.
“Are you all right?” I ask quietly.
“I have to be, don’t I?” she says, managing a wan smile.
