“She’ll like that.” I stir my own tea because it’s something to do. “Rachel’s death was such a painful memory to her.”
Mrs. LeVine gives me a watery smile. “And she’s with your lovely mother, my dear. Just think. They might be standing together and looking down at us right now.”
I try to smile back, but it feels brittle. I wish I could make myself believe what Mrs. LeVine does. That I could be satisfied with thoughts of Lydia floating on clouds and playing the lyre.
I settle my hand-painted cup onto the saucer. These are the dishes I’ve seen locked in Mrs. LeVine’s china cabinet, which I’ve been shooed away from when being too rowdy. And now I’ve become the guest who deserves their use.
“How’s Dr. LeVine doing?”
Mrs. LeVine’s weak smile flickers and fades. Her fingers take to fussing with the outdated tulle jabot at her throat. “He’s saddled himself with so much guilt, I’m afraid. As if he’s somehow responsible for what happened to Lydia.”
The back of my neck prickles as that old suspicion creeps into my thoughts—that perhaps Dr. LeVine actually is responsible.
Lydia’s laugh fills my ears. Oh, Piper, you can’t think my own father would have done something like this.
“He’s the one who hired that wretched man, after all. But of course Matthew worked for us nearly eighteen months, and we never saw even a moment of suspicious behavior. Why, Lydia thought of him as an older brother. She probably”—Mrs. LeVine’s chin trembles—“had no idea when he lured her . . . Excuse me.”
She presses the handkerchief to each eye.
People can be so willfully blind. With hardly a glance, anyone could have seen that Lydia didn’t feel brotherly affection for Matthew. While the LeVines have always been thought of as a good sort of family, truth telling has never been their strength. Not when the truth dares to color outside the lines of propriety.
I sip my tea and wait for her to lower the handkerchief. “I just wish they would catch him so he could be questioned and we could know the truth.”
Because the truth coming out could only help Matthew. Couldn’t it?
The aftermath has played out just as Mariano predicted that day he came to tell me the wretched news. Matthew had snuck out of town with such stealth, they couldn’t even figure out how he left, much less track him to another location. And with the trail cold and Lydia just one of many dead bodies in the city, the department moved on.
“I said almost the exact same thing to Dr. LeVine just a few days ago. He tells me that even if they caught Matthew and sentenced him for it, it wouldn’t change anything. That it’s best for us to try to move past what happened.” She mops her eyes once more. “He’s right, of course. But what about the next family that man dupes? You know how it is with these sorts.”
Or is there perhaps another reason Dr. LeVine doesn’t want Matthew found and questioned? A motive for why he doesn’t want Matthew’s innocence to come to light? I can’t imagine that these flimsy, patched-together stories about Matthew being a loose cannon could really satisfy a man like Dr. LeVine, who prides himself on scientific facts and details.
“I have a favor to ask, Mrs. LeVine.” I settle my cup back into its saucer. Hopefully, Mrs. LeVine won’t notice the way my hand trembles.
“Of course, my dear. What is it?”
The way Mrs. LeVine looks at me, with tenderness instead of reproach, still unsettles me. “I wonder if you’d please let me go up to Lydia’s room.”
Mrs. LeVine’s eyes widen.
“Only for a minute or two. I just . . .” I fold my hands in my lap. “With the casket being closed, I don’t feel like I ever really got to say good-bye. And I just wondered . . . I wouldn’t touch anything, I promise.”
Mrs. LeVine nods slowly. “If you promise to leave it all exactly where it is, then yes.” She smooths imaginary wrinkles from the long, crisp skirt of her dress. “I understand why you’re asking, Piper.”
My heart hiccups in my chest. Does she?
“After the funeral, I spent more hours in that room than anywhere else. Even now, I often go up there for an hour or so. Sometimes, I even talk to her.” Mrs. LeVine chuckles. “That’s rubbish, isn’t it? I’ve never been the sort to believe in spirits. Still, I can’t deny that I feel better after I’ve been up there. So, of course, Piper. Take your time.”
Take your time. Such beautiful words, ones I hadn’t been sure I could count on. “Thank you, Mrs. LeVine.”
I stand outside Lydia’s closed door for a while. I don’t know how long, really. I wish I remembered the last time I was in here, that I had some great memory to carry with me. Though it may be good that I don’t. One less thing to become tainted.
I place my hand on the gold doorknob and turn. The door opens noiselessly.
“Hello.”
I gasp and take a step backward.