“As I mentioned, some might consider her an eccentric, what with her talk of tarot and such, but I enjoyed her company.”
Harrison cocked a brow. “Fortune telling cards?”
“She was highly interested in the telling of fortunes. She’s been known to carry a tarot deck in her reticule.”
“That fits the information we have,” Jones said. “At the wedding you both attended, she was a cousin of the bride.”
Grace nodded. “As I recall, Belle and Ellen were not overly fond of each other. Ellen regarded Belle’s presence in her wedding as fulfilling a family obligation.”
“Would you consider yourself a friend of Miss Fairchild?” Simon asked.
“A friend—no. I could not say that truthfully. We were acquaintances, nothing more.”
Jones studied her. “You’re certain?”
“I have no reason to mislead you regarding my relationship with Belle. I haven’t seen her since we departed the estate after the wedding festivities concluded.”
“Are you aware that Miss Fairchild has become involved with practitioners of the occult?” Jones pressed.
“I told you about the fortune telling cards. And she was fascinated by astrology. As I recall, she was rather delighted that both of us were born under the sign of Virgo.”
Harrison plowed his long fingers through his hair. As if with a will of its own, her gaze followed the movement. What was it about this man that captured her interest with the smallest, most inconsequential movement?
“Would either of you explain why any of this is relevant?” he asked.
“Care to do the honors?” Jones turned to Simon.
“I suppose I shall cut to the chase,” Simon MacMasters said. “Belle Fairchild fled her home in New York after her father’s death. There is good reason to suspect she may be his killer.”
