Page 41 of Corpse in the Canal

They walked on in silence for a little. Secrets. Secrets were the cause of so much trouble in the world.

“Solomon,” she said firmly.

“Yes?”

She opened her mouth, but a deluge of thoughts, not least the memory of Adelaide’s lovely face, seemed to clog up her throat. She shook her head and walked faster.

At Channing House, they were surprised to learn of other dinner guests.

“The vicar and Sir Felix came home with me to offer condolences to my wife,” Harvey told them, striding up the hall to meet them as soon as they entered the house. He seemed to be slightly agitated. “Dr. Owens is here too. I’m afraid she has invited them all to dine, even sent over a note to Owens’s daughter to join us, as though we’re hosting a dinner party!”

Such things were not customary. The bereaved—especially the women—were supposed to hide, rarely leaving the house and receiving only short condolence calls before the funeral. Harvey was both ashamed and outraged.

“She needs the company of friends,” Constance said gently. “Like you, she is dealing with terrible grief in her own way. If it gives her any comfort at all…”

Harvey glared at her, then blinked several times. “You are right, of course,” he muttered. “I suppose I just wanted to discuss with you in private what you have discovered so far. Have you interviewed That Woman?”

“Mrs. Jenkins?” Solomon said. “Yes, we have. But we have reached no conclusions as yet. There is much more we need to know.”

Harvey’s face fell. “Of course. Well, we are in the drawing room, whenever you are ready to join us.”

In their room, Constance threw off her outerwear and sat straight down at the desk, extracting several sheets of paper from the drawer. She began writing down what they knew of Percy’s death and a timetable of events leading up to it. She made separate sheets for each possible suspect.

“Adelaide, West, Mrs. West,” Solomon noted, looming over her shoulder. His brows rose. “Everett? Why him? Because Percy didn’t pay his debt to him?”

Constance sighed. “And accused him of cheating. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it seems to me, until we rule them out, everyone Percy came in contact with is a suspect.”

“Including his parents?” Solomon asked.

She looked up and met his gaze. “If it was a crime of emotion, who harbors more emotion than parents for their children? They had him on a high pedestal. If he fell…”

“You don’t need to defend the idea to me,” Solomon said mildly. “Harvey was with us, of course, and could not have committed the crime, but Mrs. Harvey was here. And even before the body was discovered, there was something very…overwrought about her.”

With odd reluctance, Constance made a page for Mrs. Harvey. “Two mothers, a wife beater, an adulteress, and a widower. We certainly have variety.”

She began to write down the bare bones of what they knew so far, which was very little.

“The weapon is of utmost importance,” Solomon said. “I cannot imagine many people here owning a pistol.”

“No, and it won’t be easy to find out, since we can’t exactly search people’s houses for it. At least Harvey isn’t abusing his power as magistrate to have Wills search Dare Hall.”

“It might exonerate her,” Solomon said lightly.

Constance paused, risking a glance up at him. “How hard is this for you, Solomon?”

She tensed against the pain his answer might deliver, and against her own compassion. But she had to know. And, perhaps, so did he. He met her gaze, his eyes a little troubled, but not veiled.

“I feel protective toward her. I would find it hard to give her up to the law. But Constance? There is memory, friendship, yes. Never think there is still love.”

Something she could not identify washed through her. “Then you did love her in the past?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Hardly the ringing denial she craved, but it was something.

Clarence’s sweet, mischievous face swam before her eyes. She banished it and returned to her notes.

*