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“Diana,” Electra said quietly.

“Yes.” Iris rested her gaze on Electra. “And now I know that was his late wife. I can’t understand what made him do what he did.”

“He’s a madman,” Violet said. More gently, she added, “There is nothing about his choices that can make sense to us.” She turned to face Electra too. “But now Miss Collier’s parents have answers, and now we know there were others.”

The news, despite Scotland Yard’s attempts to control it, had hit the newspapers. Kerrigan had become a fascination for the press, the Monster of the Museum. A kind of ghoul who haunted ladies, collected them, and destroyed them.

Shockingly, and to Gideon’s relief, Electra’s involvement in the case had so far not been mentioned in the papers. But he worried that it would leak out.

“That’s lovely,” Electra said, pointing to an unfinished watercolor sketch sitting on one of the side tables. Next to it sat the paint set that Violet had once offered up for Electra to touch.

“Yes, I’ve begun painting again.” Iris grinned. “It feels good. We both have a fresh start. And Violet has forgiven me⁠—”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Violet cut in.

“You know that’s not true,” Iris retorted, but softly.

“I hold him responsible, and we never need speak to him again.” Violet spoke the words with a finality that made Gideon believe she would never be swayed by any future petition Wakefield made.

“I haven’t wanted to see visitors,” Iris admitted. “So it is lovely that you have come.”

She and Electra exchanged a smile.

Then Iris looked suddenly abashed. “Well, there’s been one visitor.”

Violet chuckled. “Indeed.”

“Bram has come as often as I will allow him to,” Iris said, sounding slightly chagrined, but then her face fell. She looked pensive again, as she had when Gideon mentioned Kerrigan’s name.

“I thought perhaps he would look at me differently. I feared Violet would, too, after she knew about…”

“Never,” Violet whispered fiercely.

“But neither of them does. All I saw in their eyes was love and relief. And that has helped me more than anything.”

Gideon felt something warm and satisfying kindle in his chest. The successful resolution to any case was a relief. It brought a sense of completion. An eagerness to see justice done. But he rarely ended a case and got to sit and visit with a young woman who had been saved from a grisly end.

He studied Electra’s profile as she chatted with the Delacourt sisters, hoping she finally understood how extraordinary she was.

They continued to chat amiably about Iris’s art, a charity that Violet had recently joined, and they both asked more about Electra’s abilities. Both sisters insisted that they wished to have a sitting with her, which seemed to surprise Electra.

A little less than an hour later, they departed and walked down the pavement, in search of a cab.

“She’s safe and well,” Electra said, almost as if she needed to remind herself of it.

“I hope you heard them, Electra. You were essential to this case.” Gideon purposely stayed close enough that their arms brushed as they walked.

She didn’t seem to mind, even leaning a bit closer.

“I know you doubted yourself,” he said, “but you changed the trajectory of it. Ultimately, you helped get answers for three families who had no closure about their daughters’ deaths. Only worries.”

For a few moments, she said nothing, seeming pensive and lost in her thoughts; then she tipped a saucy look his way.

“So are you going to do as Violet suggested and demand that Scotland Yard hire me permanently?”

“Would you want me to?” he asked.

He had been hesitant to involve her in previous cases, worried for her safety. But he could not deny that they made an excellent investigative team.