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“You want to speak to me about Vernon’s death? I expected to be questioned, although I thought it would be by the police.” She was even more beautiful up close, with glossy black hair cascading to her waist in waves, chocolate-brown eyes, and smooth skin. She wore a dressing gown which slipped off one shoulder, revealing the slender strap of an undergarment. Her fingers skimmed over her bare skin before slowly drawing the dressing gown back up to cover herself.
Being ignored wasn’t necessarily the worst thing to happen to a detective. While her attention was on Harry, I sidled closer to the dressing table. The top drawer was open. Inside were cards that must have accompanied the flowers, as well as stationary items, ink and writing implements. But no ribbons.
She’d got rid of them. Why?
Had she merely cleaned out her top drawer? Or had someone warned her that her coral ribbon had been found on the body of her deceased lover, and if duplicates were discovered in her dressing room, it would make her the prime suspect in his murder?
Chapter6
Ikept my mouth shut as Harry asked Rosa questions. We hadn’t discussed beforehand who would take the lead in questioning her, but it was obvious she would respond better to him than to me. Harry must have thought so, too. Our silent agreement to the tactic was one of the ways we worked well together.
“I’m sorry I have to ask this, but it’s a standard question,” Harry began. “Where were you between three-fifty and four-ten on Saturday afternoon?”
“Here, being measured by the dressmaker.” She waved a hand at the rack of beautiful gowns. “It may have been a little before that. I didn’t look at the time when we finished, but Mrs. Warden will know. She’s very punctual.”
“You didn’t wish to see Rigg-Lyon play in the final?”
“No. His wife was going to be there. We had an agreement that I stay away if she was going.” She leveled her gaze with his. “I did not kill Vernon, Mr. Armitage. I was fond of him. He was good to me.” She reached for a handkerchief on the desk and pressed it to her nose. It was swollen from crying and her eyes were red.
“Do you know he pursued other women while he was with you?”
“Of course.” She tilted her head coquettishly. “Although I like to think I was his favorite.”
“You didn’t mind?”
“At first, yes, but I came to realize I wasn’t in love with him, and when one is not in love, one cares a little less. As I said, I was fond of him, he was fond of me, but it wasn’t love. There was affection and respect between us, that’s all.” She adjusted her dressing gown at her shoulder again as she turned to me, acknowledging me for the first time. “May I offer you some advice, Miss Fox? Life is easier if you do not fall in love.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Do you know Rufus Broadman?”
“A little.”
“There is a rumor that he and Rigg-Lyon argued over you.”
She placed a hand to her chest. “Me?”
“Rigg-Lyon thought Broadman attempted to steal you away, so the rumors say.”
She wagged a finger. “Ah, I know what that is about. We talked one night at a party. It was nothing, just idle chatter, a little flirting. Vernon did not say anything at the time, and he did not seem angry. I think the rumors are making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Did you ever see them argue?”
Her gaze shifted away.
“Miss Rivera? Did you ever witness an argument between them?”
“I once saw Rufus accuse Vernon of cheating at polo. Vernon denied it. How does one cheat at polo?” She shrugged in answer to her own question.
“A ribbon was found in Rigg-Lyon’s pocket after he was murdered. Do you know anything about that?”
She blinked rapidly at him before reaching under the desk to retrieve an embroidered bag. She opened it and pulled out a coral ribbon. “Was it this color?”
Harry’s gaze met mine.
“Yes,” I said. “Why did he have it?”
She smiled sadly and clutched the ribbon to her chest. “He once told me he carried my ribbon during his matches for luck, but I thought he was just being sweet. You know how men are.” She withdrew a fistful of ribbons from the bag. “I have so many, I didn’t miss one.”
“You say you were never at the same polo matches as Mrs. Rigg-Lyon,” Harry went on. “But did you ever see her with her husband?”
