Page 66 of Murder at the Debutante Ballby

“Yes, please.” I asked Harry to join me at one of the tables. “You’re in late today.”

“I slept in.”

“Late night, was it?”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. He showed no signs of tiredness so he must have got some sleep.

“Did your late night have something to do with the investigation?” I asked.

“No.”

“Did you attend a party?”

“Nothing like that.”

“So you were at home? Or someone’s home, if not your own?”

His gaze narrowed. “No.”

“A gentlemen’s club?”

“Can I not sleep late from time to time without being subjected to an interrogation?”

“I wouldn’t be a good detective if I didn’t at least try to get some answers.”

“A good detective knows people don’t always answer truthfully. She would try to get her answers elsewhere then confront her suspect with them.”

Luigi deposited a cup of hot coffee in front of me. I waited until he left before I spoke again.

“Is that an admission that you’re going to lie if I ask you what you were doing last night outside the Druitt-Poore’s place?”

He lifted his cup to his lips and sipped, but I saw the flicker of surprise pass over him before he schooled his features.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, I pressed on. Even if he remained silent, I might read something in his face. “Were you there for me?”

He laughed. “I never guessed you to be so arrogant or vain as to think a man would wait for you on the slim chance you’ll happen to pass by and see him.”

I held his gaze for a long time without speaking. He didn’t look away. At first, I was a little put-out by his teasing dismissal. Perhaps hedidthink me arrogant and vain. But then I realized he had said that to distract me from pursuing the truth.

“I see,” I said. “Nicely done.”

“What is?”

“You haven’t answered my question.” I picked up my cup with the fingertips of both hands. “Very well. I’ll allow you to keep your secrets.”

He smiled. “How magnanimous of you.”

“It’s none of my affair anyway.”

His smile faded.

I sipped my coffee, relishing the bitterness on my tongue. It was just what I needed after a night out.

Clearly Harry’s night had finished later than mine. Perhaps it had only really begun when he collected his companion from outside the Druitt-Poores’ house.

“Luigi tells me you were here an hour ago looking for me,” he said. “Sorry I missed you. Did you learn something at the ball?”

“I learned that Mr. Livingstone has a violent streak when he’s drunk. He also threatened anyone who gossiped about his daughter, saying the last fellow who did went to his grave. It sounded like an admission.”