Page 92 of Corpse in the Canal

She saw him bite back his words and knew that whether or not it was good for his health, he would insist on accompanying her.

*

At Channing House, something of a surprise awaited them. The butler directed them straight to Harvey’s study, where a familiar figure arose from one of the armchairs.

“Inspector Harris!” Constance exclaimed, going to him with her hand held out. “How do you do?”

“I sent to Scotland Yard yesterday,” Harvey said with a shade of anxiety, as though his action might have offended them. “I felt I had to as soon as I heard of this new shooting. How are you, old fellow? Are you sure you should be up and about?”

“It’s really no more than a graze,” Solomon said cheerfully, pausing to shake hands with Harris. “I’m pretty much recovered. The bullet only grazed my temple, so I have nothing more to worry about than a bit of a headache.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Harvey urged. “Did you see who did it?”

“Sadly not. Though they fired from Larchford Wood.”

“Leaving no clue, I suppose,” Harvey said, scowling.

By some tacit agreement, neither Constance nor Solomon mentioned the torn piece of Adelaide’s dress.

Harvey looked at Inspector Harris. “Should I have Wills inquire into everyone’s whereabouts? Mrs. Jenkins, for one. How unfortunate for you, Grey, that you had to seek help at her house. I warned—”

“I think I’d better interview our victim first,” Harris interrupted. “And get Mr. and Mrs. Grey’s perspective of the whole case. Is there somewhere we can go that wouldn’t disturb you?”

“By all means, use this room,” Harvey said, moving reluctantly toward the door. “I shan’t be needing it for a while. I have tomorrow’s funeral to arrange, and my wife to see to…”

“Well,” Harris said when the door was closed behind their host. He rose and leaned his hip against the desk so that he could see both Solomon and Constance at once. “You appear to be in trouble again. Is this attack linked to the murder of Percival Harvey?”

“It seems likely,” Solomon said.

“Anything in the magistrate’s suspicions of this Mrs. Jenkins?”

“We haven’t ruled her out,” Solomon said with caution. “But she’s by no means the manipulative, evil woman Percy’s parents seem to imagine. We think, in fact, someone is going out of their way to implicate her.”

Constance produced the torn piece of cloth and told them about its discovery and their suspicions. In the middle of her explanations, a knock sounded at the door and Sergeant Flynn came in.

Where Harris was middle-aged and pretended to be grumpy, his underling was young and presented a sunny face to the world. He grinned at Solomon and Constance as though they were old friends.

“You’re looking particularly pleased with yourself,” Constance remarked.

Flynn’s smile broadened. “I am. I am engaged to be married.” He blushed. “To someone you may remember, in fact. Miss Ellen Winsom.”

For a moment, Constance was transported back to the first case she had solved with Solomon, the murder of Ellen’s father. Ellen, lively and troubled, and very young, had been inclined to trust the wrong men. Flynn, upright and honest, was definitely trustworthy, but he was hardly of her class.

His twisted smile acknowledged it. “I’m still working on her family. But the inspector’s in line for promotion, not before time, and I’m hoping to step into his shoes…” Encountering his superior’s gaze, he closed his mouth, cleared his throat, and hastily sat down at the desk and took out his notebook and pencil.

“Congratulations,” Constance said warmly. “All round, in fact.”

Harris cleared his throat too, glowering. “You’d better start at the beginning,” he instructed Solomon and Constance. “Mr. Harvey says he engaged you to find his son.”

Harris was a good listener, and he appreciated succinct and unvarnished reports. Constance and Solomon kept their speculations to a minimum, knowing the inspector was quick enough to see at least all the avenues that they did.

By the end, his frown was deep enough to be a scowl, and his fingers drummed with peculiar urgency on the desk beside him. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it all. Flynn, go and talk to the servants. See if either Harvey went out yesterday morning, and get hold of all the firearms in the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Flynn?”

Flynn glanced back over his shoulder.