Edda stood in the doorway, her eyes wide, her hands buried in her apron. “There is a policeman come to see you, ja?”“A policeman?”Edda’s head bobbed. “Ja.”Captain Benton. “All right. Thank you, Edda. I will be right down.” Why would the captain come to see her? Mary frowned, put away her pen, placed the stopper in the ink well and then rose to look in the mirror. As usual, wisps of hair were escaping at her temples and down her neck from the knot on the crown of her head. Why could she not make them stay in place? She lifted her hands to tuck them where they belonged, then shrugged and headed for the stairs. What did it matter? The captain was not paying a social call. All the same, she tugged the bodice of her gown more smoothly into place as she walked down the stairs.“Good afternoon, Ca—” Mary halted, stared at the swarthy policeman standing beside the front door, then moved forward again. “I am Mary Randolph. You wished to speak with me, officer?”“Yes, Miss Randolph.”
