_Rowena’s POV_
Lucy didn’t leave right away.
She sat across from me with her hands folded around her tea cup
I let her sit.
“That secretary,” I said after a while of silence. “What was his name?”
“Owen,” Lucy said. “Owen Marsh. He’d been with your grandfather for eleven years. And he was a good man. The kind of person your grandfather trusted with things he didn’t want to think about himself.” She paused. “He was also the kind of person who noticed things and wrote them down. Your grandfather valued that.”
“Did he write down what he saw?”
“I believe he did,” Lucy said. “Whether those records still exist ….” She stopped. The implication finished itself.
A man who noticed something, documented it, and then left the city with suspicious speed and died in a suspicious
