Page 93 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Irene caught her breath. “So there has been no progress and I’m still a suspect.”

“If it’s any comfort, I think the police are leaning toward the deranged-transient theory,” Luther said.

“Why?” Irene asked.

Oliver looked at her. “Probably because of the necklace.”

“Yes,” Luther said. “The thinking is that the secretary was not insane. According to the housekeeper and the butler, she was a skilled professional. If she had murdered her employer, the crime would most likely have been done with the goal of stealing something quite valuable.”

“Such as the necklace,” Oliver concluded. “Any progress on that front?”

“As reported in the newspapers, it was an extremely valuable item that went missing from a hotel safe in London shortly before Helen Spencer was murdered.”

Irene gripped the arms of the rattan chair. “Miss Spencer traveled to London three weeks before she was killed.”

Luther’s brows rose. “Evidently your employer traveled abroad frequently and she kept an apartment in Manhattan.”

“That’s right,” Irene said. A queasy sensation roiled her stomach. “I’m the one who booked her tickets and made her travel arrangements. I sometimes accompanied her.”

“Spencer always stayed in the best hotels, didn’t she?” Luther continued. “She attended parties in the homes of wealthy people.”

Irene went cold. “What, exactly, are you implying?”

Oliver gave Luther a knowing look. “You think Helen Spencer was a jewel thief, don’t you?”

Luther shrugged. “It would explain a lot.”

Irene stared at him, stunned. “I can’t believe it.”

“Makes sense,” Oliver said. “She probably stumbled onto Atherton’s notebook when she cracked a safe in search of jewelry. She would have suspected immediately that the notebook was valuable. Why else stash it in a hotel safe?”

“I think that is the most reasonable way to explain how Spencer acquired the notebook,” Luther said. “It’s possible that she was a professional spy who was paid to steal the notebook, but I think it’s far more likely that she was a thief who got very unlucky when she stole Atherton’s notes.”

“Dear heaven.” Irene shook her head, dazed. “I lived in her housefor nearly a year. How could I not have guessed the truth? I was so naïve. I thought she was my friend.”

“It sounds like she was your friend,” Oliver said quietly. “Toward the end she must have begun to realize that the notebook was not only valuable, it was dangerous. She tried her best to protect you in case something happened to her.”

Irene thought about the message written in blood on the silver-flocked wallpaper.Run.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Luther looked at her. “Did Spencer meet with anyone in the days before she was murdered?”

“I don’t know,” Irene said. “She had just returned from Europe. She went there alone. I spent the time at the New York apartment. She sent a telegram from London giving me the date her ship was due to arrive. I was to meet her at the pier. We were going to drive up to the country house together. But the information in the telegram was wrong. Miss Spencer was not on the ship. I discovered that she had arrived two days earlier. She must have gone straight to the country house.”

“Yet she knew that you were waiting for her in New York,” Oliver said.

“Yes,” Irene said. “I wasn’t the only one who got the wrong information. The housekeeper and butler were expecting Miss Spencer to return two days later, as well. Looking back, I think it’s obvious that she deliberately deceived us. She wanted some time alone at the country house.”

“Time to make a deal for the notebook, perhaps,” Oliver said.

Irene looked at him. “And time to meet her lover. He murdered her for the notebook.”

“That’s what it looks like,” Luther said. “What made you decide to drive to Spencer’s country house that evening?”

“When I found out that she had arrived on a ship that docked twodays earlier, I was frantic,” Irene said. “I couldn’t find her in New York. None of her friends had seen her. I telephoned the country house but there was no answer. I was afraid that she was there alone and had perhaps taken ill or fallen down the stairs. By then it was very late in the day. It’s a long drive and I was delayed by a bridge that had been closed due to the heavy rains. I didn’t arrive until nearly midnight.”

“So you got into your car and drove all the way to the mansion, even though you knew you would be driving a mountain road at night,” Luther concluded.