CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Polidori reclined in his wingback before the parlor fire, robed in a tufted-silk lounge suit and dressing gown, his slippered feet upon a footstool to appreciate the fire’s full warmth. He gulped a broth Mrs. Hicks had demanded he eat. The matronly woman stood over him to supervise. Mary sat upright in the wingback opposite, silent and smiling intently at Officer Hamilton who was likewise silent, hunkered down on the wooden bench beside the fire. His head was bent low, his pencil poised above his ledger. His shock of rust-colored hair fell across his emerald eyes. He didn’t catch Mary’s smile, as he was intent on Polidori’s lips appreciably slurping the soup. Finally satisfied, Mrs. Hicks returned to the kitchen with the empty bowl, the heavy aroma of boiled chicken,
