Page 102 of Corpse in the Canal

They had made no effort to hide their conversation, and the Harveys were glancing from one to the other with some bemusement.

“For such a purpose I release you from our agreement,” Harvey said. “So you may both go to the wedding. We have the London detectives looking into Percy now.”

“Thank you,” Constance said firmly. “But that won’t be necessary.”

She was silent during their brief breakfast and only burst into words as she and Solomon all but marched into town.

“It’s too soon! He has been back in her life—what?—two months? Three? How can she know him? How can she know he will be faithful or make her happy for longer than a few weeks? How can she trust him? We know he is ambiguous, to say the least! She needs to—”

“Constance.” He took her hand, threading it through his arm. “You said yourself she was happy.”

“A moment, Sol, one moment! This is the rest of her life!”

“Her life,” Solomon said mildly. “Would you have paid attention if she had tried to stop you marrying me?”

Constance gave a quick, twisted smile. “She didn’t believe you would marry me.”

“She threatened me against mistreating you in any way. Go and threaten Kellar if it makes you feel better.”

She swallowed. “You are making fun of me.”

He patted her hand. “No.”

She shook her head. “It’s too soon.”

“Don’t you think they’ve spent long enough apart? Why should they waste their later years?”

She glared at him. “Why are you so damned reasonable?”

“Because we need our minds on the case. And yours isn’t. Go home. Threaten Kellar, and dance at your mother’s wedding. She wants you there.”

“So much so that she gave me a whole day’s notice.” She drew in a breath and blew it into the breeze. “You are right, of course. We need our minds on the case, both our minds.”

And from that, she would not be moved.

They called first on Dr. Owens, who, although on his way out on his calls, returned with them to his consulting rooms, his face flushed with mortification.

“Penelope told me what she did. I can only add my apologies to hers. I have never been so furious and ashamed and appalled. But you must believe she never intended to hurt you or anyone else. And I hope you do not imagine that she had anything to do with Percy’s murder…”

“Where was she that afternoon?” Solomon asked briskly.

“With me, in the poorer parts of the town. I visited the sick while she delivered medicines and looked in on the convalescing.”

“Which of you had the gig?” Solomon asked.

“I did. She is young and walks faster than I.”

“You do not worry leaving her to walk alone in those streets?” Constance asked.

“No,” Owens said with dignity. “Everyone there knows her as they know me. No one would hurt the doctor’s daughter.”

“We would like to rule her out as a suspect,” Solomon said. “Please write down for us the names and addresses of everyone both of you visited that afternoon.”

Owens drew himself up, clearly about to refuse. Then, his gaze skimming over Solomon’s bandage, he sighed and reached for his appointment book.

Five minutes later, armed with his list, they left him and walked briskly toward the poorer streets. To save time, they split the names between them.

It took them the rest of the morning, and they missed Percy’s funeral, both the church service and the burial.