Lillian rose. Better not to deny what was true. “Mr. Frick offered to pay me a thousand dollars, yes.” Mr. DeWitt’s eyebrows rose, and the entire Frick family, other than Miss Helen, gasped. “But I never planned on taking it, I didn’t think it was right. I mean, at first, I thought about it, but once I got to know Miss Helen, I decided against it.” She was talking herself right off a cliff. Better to be blunt. “I was relieved when she tore up the check.”
Mrs. Dixie cried out. “Perhaps that’s why Miss Lilly stole the cameo with the Magnolia diamond, to make up for the lost money.”
This was getting out of hand, and the private detective didn’t appear to be interested in doing anything to stop the false accusations from flying around the room. In fact, he looked quite pleased with himself.
Miss Helen gave a hard shake of her head, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d started. “No. I can’t believe Miss Lilly would do such a thing. Something else is going on here, but I don’t understand it.”
“It’s not your job to understand, Miss Helen,” said Mr. DeWitt. “It’s mine. For now, I’d like everyone to go to their rooms. I’ll interview the servants first, and then each of you.”
“Very well.” Mr. Childs appeared quite satisfied with the outcome. “Dixie and I will go to Father’s study and wait. You will find us in there. If we have a scoundrel in our midst, the private detective will find him—or her—out. Mr. DeWitt, keep in mind the last thing we want is a scandal. We’d like to keep this within the family, if possible.”
“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Childs.”
Lillian went upstairs to the third floor, stopping first in the women’s bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face in an effort to compose herself. If she had time to think, she could figure a way out of this mess. Someone had set her up; she just had to determine who. She dried her face with a towel and took some deep breaths before heading back to her room.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Miss Winnie was coming from the other direction. She pulled Lillian close. “These accusations are baseless, they’ll come to understand that. You are not a scoundrel, I know that, and they do as well. It’s their grief getting the best of them.”
What a relief to have one person who believed her. “Will you say something to Mrs. Frick on my behalf? Please, anything you can do.”
“I will. I’m sure this mess will be sorted out soon.”
But Lillian wasn’t so certain.
She retreated to her room and paced the floor, going from the door to the window, back and forth. She was already suspected in one murder, and now this? What if Mr. DeWitt figured out who she was? Her life might as well be over.
She went to the window and opened it, letting the cool air rush over her. How could she convince them that she hadn’t done anything wrong? Mr. Childs was out for blood—that was obvious. Lillian’s head swam with the accusations, with the double-crossing that might be going on. Mr. Childs had never had much of an affinity with his father, to say the least. Could he have masterminded the whole thing, then called in a private detective—who was probably in his pocket—to finish it off?
A tap sounded at the door. Lillian braced herself, but it wasn’t Mr. DeWitt on the other side of the door. It was Miss Helen.
She rushed in, closing the door softly behind her. “Everything is spinning out of control.”
Lillian had one chance to ensure Miss Helen believed her. She couldn’t waste it. “I promise you, I walked into the bathroom and saw the glass, and then a moment later you came in and took it from me. There would have been no time for me to add something to it, nor did I have any kind of access to a sleeping powder. I swear, I had nothing to do with either the cameo or the draft.”
Miss Helen nodded. “I believe you. That private detective and Childs, they’re in cahoots. They’re trying to break me.” She walked over to the window, arms crossed, her shoulders caving in. “For all we know, Childs paid off the nurse to make the accusation so he could contest the will and get at Papsie’s money. Even at the funeral, I could tell that Childs was furious. He was no better than the rest of the so-called mourners, saying kind things but simmering with jealousy at our family’s success. I knew what they were really thinking.”
“What were they thinking?” Lillian could feel the muscles and nerves in her body releasing, ever so slightly, as she and Miss Helen joined forces.