The GameThe next morning, I felt weary and my head hurt. To my surprise, a letter came from “Eunice Ogier,” but was actually from Thrace Pike about “the information you requested.” The letter was addressed from a residence on Market Center. His home?
At breakfast, Tony’s knuckles were torn and bruised, yet unwashed, unbandaged.
If he wanted his hand to fester, that was not my concern.
The whole house must have heard the argument, but no one said anything. At breakfast, Tony said, “Jacqui, I had nothing to do with your friend being hurt. But you said two of your friends were beaten. Who was the other?”
He truly didn’t know? “Madame Biltcliffe.”
“I gave orders for her to be left alone! I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” He left his breakfast half-eaten and stormed out.
So I ran m
