Chapter Sixteen #2
Solomon sighed. “And probably more likely. Nothing else points to her being aware of imminent death.”
“Except the fear Darrow mentioned, which he may have misinterpreted as fear of Montague.”
Solomon considered that. “Possible. Whatever her reasons, there was clearly a bond between her and Martin. And we know now she did not go there to meet Darrow or anyone else.”
“Providing Martin is telling us the truth.”
“Do you think he’s lying?” Solomon asked in surprise.
“No. Not really. But too many people are telling us partial truths—at the very least. We’re missing something, Solomon.”
“I think we are.”
“Which doesn’t mean Montague isn’t guilty.
He still has the best motive and opportunity.
We just don’t have the complete picture yet.
Hopefully, you or Janey will find the missing pieces amongst passenger lists.
I think I’ll go back to the office and study the notes—in between dealing with that mountain of correspondence we’ve allowed to pile up. ”
“Good plan. I’ll see you back there in a few hours—earlier, with luck.”
But luck did not appear to be with him.
*
Kellar was feeling uncharacteristically indecisive. Having taken care of Juliet and the main issue, there remained the problem of her daughter. Of Silver and Grey, who were disconcertingly sharp and persistent. He should have taken that into account after Venice.
This was one of his failings, of course. Being so successful in all his undertakings, he would have to be more careful not to underestimate other people. It was a form of arrogance, and he despised that.
He mulled the problem during a leisurely luncheon and the remains of his glass of wine.
No, it was best he make a call at their office before Constance took it into her head to visit her mother, which was certainly not what he wanted right now.
And so he should remove her perception of the threat he presented.
A little honesty was in order. Or, at least, partial honesty, in the cause of his own eventual triumph. He hoped.
He rang for his manservant.
“I’m going out, Jaffer,” he said mildly. “And will dine at my club.”
He walked to the offices of Silver and Grey, mostly because he liked to remain fit. The weather was a little too close, with drizzle in the air, so it wasn’t a particular pleasure, but the brisk exercise did him good.
At first he thought the office was closed, for no one answered the door until his second knock, when it was opened almost at once by Constance.
“Your girl has left you in the lurch,” he remarked, taking off his hat and stepping forward.
It was instinct to move aside in the face of such self-confidence, and she did. “Of course she hasn’t. I sent her to buy cake, since I felt in dire need.”
She closed the door behind him and led him into the second office, which appeared to be her own. “If you’ve come for news, I’m afraid we still have no solutions or evidence to offer you.”
He wasn’t convinced she would tell him if she did. Their last encounter had left him with few doubts about their suspicions of him. It would take more than money to lift those. So…
“Actually, I came to give you news,” he said.
She took him not to the desk, where she had clearly been hard at work, for there were closely written sheets of paper scattered all over it, but to a group of comfortable chairs, where she invited him to sit.
“What news?” she asked with interest.
He smiled with as much boyish charm as he could muster. “More in the nature of a confession,” he admitted, lowering himself into the chair next to hers.
Her eyes—incredibly beautiful eyes, reminiscent of Juliet’s—remained veiled. “Why, what have you done?”
“I—er…started a fire where there was no fuel. I’m afraid I had no reason at all to believe Caterina’s death was suspicious. I had an ulterior motive in involving you, and quite candidly, since I never liked Montague, I didn’t mind in the slightest inconveniencing him.”
Constance stared at him. “He had just lost his wife!”
“I thought you suspected him of murdering her?”
“I do,” she retorted. “I’ve had a certain sympathy with murderers before. Are you telling me you just pretended to be suspicious?”
“Yes,” Kellar said ruefully. “Sorry.”
“But why?”
“I wanted to force an ‘accidental’ meeting with your mother.”
Constance parted her lips. It was the only sign of shock he could see.
“It didn’t work, of course,” he said with a deprecating wave. “She fled, and I was forced to make our encounter more deliberate.”
“You went to the shop, and to the house. Did that make the reason for her flight the first time any clearer?”
“You do have her sarcasm,” Kellar said, pleased. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize and prevent you wasting any more time on the matter.”
To his surprise, her lips twitched, as if she would laugh. That was like Juliet, too. Her eyes remained serious, though.
“Well, thank you for owning up. We will, of course, still charge you for this full day, too.”
“I expected nothing less.”
He waited for her to say more, to announce they were ending the case and would present their account. That she did not made him uneasy. He was uneasier still that he could not read her expression or her intentions.
She seemed to be waiting for him to take his leave.
“If you have nothing to add,” she said eventually, “I’m afraid I have too much work to do to be able to entertain.”
“Ah. Talking of entertainment, thank you for your invitation. I should be glad to come on Friday.”
Constance rose. “I shall look forward to seeing you then.”
It was rare enough for Kellar to lose control of any meeting that he was able to find it amusing. Those Silver women. “I too.”
He rose, and a cushion tumbled to the ground. He bent and picked it up, gazing at it thoughtfully. He felt Constance’s sudden tension and raised his eyes to hers.
He knew then. She didn’t care whether or not he paid Silver and Grey. They would keep investigating. Unless…
“It’s me, Hat!” called a voice from the hall.
Poor timing…
“I’m in here,” Constance called, and one of the girls he remembered from his previous visits stuck her head around the door.
“Beg your pardon,” she said. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Do that,” Constance said, “but Mr. Kellar is not staying.”
Apparently, he was not. He bowed gracefully and allowed himself to be conducted to the door.
*
Describing Kellar’s visit to Solomon a couple of hours later, Constance shivered again.
“You didn’t believe him?” Solomon asked, frowning.
“I don’t honestly know. He seemed sincere enough.
He always does. I just found myself wondering why he was telling me, and why now.
Is he trying to stop us investigating at all, because our inquiries will eventually lead to him?
Or does he just want us to believe that he is so devoted to Juliet that she is perfectly safe with him?
” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Solomon, you don’t think—”
He pulled her to her feet into his arms. “No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “But we’ll go home via the shop to be sure.”
She hugged him fiercely, inhaling the familiar, delicious scent of his skin.
“It was the way he looked at the cushion, too. It fell to the floor when he stood, and he just picked it up. But suddenly I thought, Is that what happened with Caterina? And he looked at me… Only then Hat came in and I could laugh at myself again. I suspect he was laughing too.”
“Did you tell him we wouldn’t be dropping the case?”
“No. I didn’t say either way. I suppose we’ll have to stop charging him, though. Did you learn anything at the docks?”
“No. One ship sailed for Italy yesterday with passengers, but neither Darrow’s nor Caterina’s names were on their lists. Nor on anyone else’s that I found. I’ve set further inquiries in motion, but I’m not hopeful. I hope Janey and Lenny had more luck.”
“Perhaps she was right and we should just have asked Darrow.”
“I don’t trust Darrow to tell the truth. We need to know how deep, how committed his relationship with Caterina was. And what Montague found out about it.”
“She told him,” Constance said.
“And she told him she would end it. According to him. Why would either of them lie unless they are hiding something?”
“Something we’re missing,” Constance said, drawing back from his arms just a little so that she could look into his face. “Or…are we wasting our time on this, when we have several genuine inquiries waiting for us to begin? We don’t even know for sure that Caterina was killed.”
Solomon kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home. We’ll look afresh at everything in the morning.”
*
From a doorway across the road from Silver and Grey’s discreet office, Carl Darrow saw the couple emerge, looking smug and content.
He didn’t much care if they saw him. In fact, he was more than happy to harass them the way they had been harassing him.
Still, good sense made him crouch down, face mostly averted, while he pretended to be retying his shoelace.
The couple walked arm in arm for a couple of yards to a waiting carriage, and Grey handed her in, the perfect gentleman with his lady wife.
Which was laughable. Carl knew perfectly well that Constance Silver, for all her beauty and manners, was a whore. And Grey, by the look of him, had slave in his ancestry. Who did they think they were, poking their grubby noses into other, more talented people’s business?
Darrow squashed the surge of resentment. The carriage drove off without either of them looking in his direction.
Hardly the most observant of detectives, he thought, smirking.
He waited until their carriage was out of sight, then crossed the road to their office. It was tempting to cause a little sabotage—smash a window, or push a burning handkerchief through the letter box. Just as a little payback.
Apart from anything else, they had no right to walk around like the perfect, loving couple, when he had lost his Caterina…
But the street was too busy, and he could not wait until darkness fell.
He had an engagement at a private house this evening.
He needed to go home and change and collect his violin.
But if they came near him again, if they were still asking questions…
Well, he had Montague’s handkerchief in his pocket, not to burn but to leave at the scene of the sabotage.
If it came to that. And he almost hoped it would. Revenge on Montague and on Silver and Grey at the same time was an appealing proposition.
He walked on past the office. For now.