In the Shadow of Gotham Read Online Free PDF Page A

to belittle her ambitions or achievements. Such people were simply not worth her time.”
    “Did your cousin ever mention anyone she disliked? Or anyone who may have sufficiently resented her—”
    “Enough to do
this
?” Miss Wingate broke in, horrified. “Oh, no . . . I would hardly think so. Certainly people begrudged her; some may have felt that she was taking a place at Columbia that properly belonged to a man, or that well-bred young ladies belonged at home. But from all Sarah told me, she encountered nothing that amounted to more than petty jealousy or resentment.”
    And yet, it was possible that Sarah may have been uncomfortable discussing such matters with her family, so I took Abigail Wingate’s opinion with a grain of salt. Sarah’s classmates or professors could well offer a different estimation.
    “Was there perhaps a gentleman?” I asked, trying to phrase the question of any romantic interest discreetly.
    Miss Wingate’s answer was absolute. “I’m quite certain she had no beau. Her parents often introduced her to suitable young men, hoping she would make a good match. But Sarah was uninterested.”
    In response to further questions about Sarah’s family, it became clear that Sarah had been closest with the Wingates. Abigail and her aunt constituted Sarah’s only family nearby, for Sarah’s parents split their time between Boston and Eu rope, where they were now.
    Miss Wingate went on to describe Sarah’s activities during the past few days in detail. Sarah had arrived unannounced in Dobson late Friday night, surprising Abigail and her aunt.Sarah had apologized for the lack of advance notice, explaining only that she needed a quiet place to study; her subsequent time had been spent working, and she had joined them only for meals and the occasional brief walk.
    I glanced at my watch, and realized time was growing short, for we would need to escort the Wingates to friends for the night. I had learned all I could about their daily habits; now I broached the toughest part of the interview and asked her to describe what she had seen upon returning home. It was painful to listen to Miss Wingate describe the harrowing experience: She had entered the kitchen, unleashed the dogs, and put away her coat in the hall closet. As she turned on a few lights in the kitchen, she had heard the smaller terrier whining upstairs. Perplexed as to why, she had gone upstairs to check out the source of the dog’s concern and discovered her cousin’s horrific murder. The rest, I already knew.
    “One final question,” I said, standing. “Would you please take a quick look at this necklace?” I gently opened the locket for Miss Wingate, holding it within its protective handkerchief close enough that she might see.
    “We believe this to be Sarah’s,” I said, implicitly asking her to confirm it.
    She nodded with a numb expression I initially mistook for sorrow.
    “And the man opposite is her father?”
    She did not answer immediately. When she looked up at me, her eyes were filled with tears and bewilderment. “He is old enough to be her father. But no, I’ve never seen him before.” Her brow furrowed, creating deep lines across her face. “Why would she have a picture of this man in her locket?”
    It was a rhetorical question, for how could I know, but Ianswered her anyway to keep her from worrying unnecessarily. “It may be someone she spoke of, whom you would recognize by name.”
    “Maybe,” she said. She sounded unconvinced.
    “Was she wearing this locket when you saw her earlier today?”
    “I don’t think so. She rarely wore jewelry at all, except on special occasions. Or, at least, that used to be her practice.” She looked at me with heavy, brooding eyes. “Seeing this picture makes me wonder how much I really knew about Sarah’s life.”
    I did not answer her; there was little I could say. Under the close scrutiny of a crime investigation, all manner of private details became public