Late For The Wedding

Twenty-One

Vale watched Joan walk slowly through his collection of ancient vases and stone sarcophagi. She stopped in front of a glass case that contained several necklaces set with various colored gemstones.

Sunlight from a nearby window burnished her fashionably styled hair, turning it a color that was nearly identical to the ancient Roman gold in the jewelry case.

Her classical profile would have done justice to a statue of a Greek goddess, he thought. But it was not her looks that drew him to her. There were, after all, a host of younger women who could surpass her in that aspect, although to his eye, they lacked the elegance and confidence that came with maturity.

No, it was the invisible power of her personality that pulled him so fiercely, he thought. There was a strength in her that called to everything that was male in him.

He marveled at the intensity of his desire. He could not remember when he had begun to fall in love with this woman. He only knew now that the emotion consumed him. Indeed, it had become so powerful that it had overtaken his passion for his other great love, the antiquities the Romans had left behind in England.

He had never allowed himself to think of Joan in intimate terms while her husband was alive. Fielding Dove had been one of his very few close friends. He had honored that friendship and valued it too highly to allow himself to lust after Dove’s beautiful wife. Not that it would have done him any good, he thought wryly. Joan would never have looked at another man while her beloved Fielding was on this earth.

But Fielding had been gone for over a year now, and Joan had finally emerged from the cocoon of mourning. He had waged a careful and very deliberate campaign of seduction, wooing her with his collection of antiquities and conversations concerning their many mutual interests. The passion had blazed between them easily enough, but somewhere along the line he had discovered that he wanted more from her.

He wanted her to love him as much as he loved her.

For a time he had begun to hope that his feelings were reciprocated. But in the past few days Joan had seemed to retreat from him. He sensed that he was in great danger of losing her, and the knowledge filled him with quiet desperation. But he was at a loss to know what had gone wrong.

“Has Mr. March asked you to consult on this business of the memento-mori-ring murderer?” Joan asked. She did not look up from her examination of an onyx cameo. “I know that he and Mrs. Lake are extremely concerned about their new case.”

“March mentioned the matter, but I was unable to offer much assistance. He and Crackenburne are attempting to learn who might have profited from the commissioned deaths.”

“They are searching for a person who gained financially from the murders. But Mrs. Lake and I find it interesting that these recent deaths have all resulted in a change of wedding plans for some young lady in Society.”

“You think there is a connection? That seems a bit far-fetched.”

“Do not be so certain of that.” Joan left the jewelry case and wandered over to a cabinet filled with pottery. “At first glance it may be difficult to imagine that anyone would commission a murder merely to halt one marriage or promote another.”

“You must admit it sounds quite extraordinary.”

She trailed a gloved fingertip along the carved edge of a stone altar. “Not if one considers how much is at stake in a marriage, especially one made in Society.”

Vale thought about the huge amounts of money that often changed hands in the form of marriage settlements. To say nothing of the estates and titles that were often affected.

“You may be right,” he admitted. “Perhaps it is not at all improbable that a person might kill to change the fate of a particularly lucrative marriage contract. As March has frequently pointed out, money is always an excellent motive for murder. But I collect that these deaths did not result in any obviously substantial change in the fortunes of those who stood to benefit most.”

“There are other things at stake in a marriage.” Joan turned to look at him down the length of the gallery. “In fact, given the enormous risk a woman assumes when she weds, it is really rather remarkable that there are not a great many more murders committed for the purpose of altering a young lady’s future.”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

Joan moved to study a portion of a column he had removed in the course of an excavation of a Roman temple near Bath.

“For a woman there are a great many risks involved in marriage,”

she said quietly. “Not all of them have to do with financial considerations.”

“I’m afraid I do not follow your logic, my dear.”

“For a young lady, there is the grave risk of childbirth, not to mention the fact that she will lose all legal control of her finances.”

He nodded. “It is the way of the world.”

She gave him a sharp, annoyed glare that caused him to wish he had kept that bit of conventional wisdom to himself.

“There is also the risk of finding oneself tied to a vicious man capable of doing physical harm to his wife or his own offspring,” she continued grimly. “Or the threat of marrying a wastrel who might throw away the children’s inheritance in a single night at the gaming tables. There is the possibility of finding oneself involved in a cold, loveless, desperately lonely business arrangement.”

“Joan He stopped, not certain what to say. The conversation had suddenly veered off in a direction he had not foreseen.

She turned slowly around to face him again, her eyes shadowed.

“And for a woman there is no escape from any of these risks once the vows have been spoken and the contracts signed.”

Was this how all women viewed marriage, he wondered, as an enormpus risk, not only for themselves, but for their children? He had never contemplated it from that point of view.

Few alliances in the ton were love matches. More often than not, couples went their own ways after the birth of an heir. It was customary for both husband and wife to conduct discreet affairs in so-called polite circles.

But there were limits to the freedoms that were permitted, he reflected. And divorce was almost impossible. Joan was right, there was no escape once the bargain had been struck. He had to admit that, until this moment, he had not given much thought to the very real physical, emotional, and financial risks involved for a woman in marriage.

“I understand.” He lounged against the edge of a Roman sarcophagus and folded his arms. “Very well, I concede that there are other matters involved besides money and estates. But where does that leave us in this case? From all accounts, the families seemed quite pleased with the marriage arrangements. I suppose it is possible the young ladies might have had some doubts, but do you really believe that they had the knowledge and means to hire themselves a professional killer?”

“No. Mrs. Lake and I feel that the people who commissioned the deaths are likely older and, more to the point, financially independent. They are persons who each have a strong interest in the outcome of the marriage. I think it is entirely possible that the three who hired the killer may know each other quite well.”

He was intrigued. “Why do you say that?”

“Partly because of the strong similarity in the reasons for these three murders. It seems likely that a professional killer catering to those who move in Society would, of necessity, be forced to rely on word of mouth to advertise his or her services.”

“Ah, yes, the problem of advertising.” He smiled slightly. “I had not thought of that.”

“Thus far I have collected the names of older women in each of the three families affected who would have had very strong feelings about the outcome of each marriage. Each possesses a will of iron.

“And each controls a significant fortune.”

“These are high-ranking ladies of the ton?”

“Yes.”

He spread his hands. “How would a lady who spends her time in Society’s drawing rooms and ballrooms go about finding a professional killer whom she could trust with such a dangerous business?

“I will be the first to agree that the women who move in Society often have their quirks and eccentricities, but they do not generally consort with members of the criminal class.”

“I shall let Mr. March and Mrs. Lake work that one out. In the meantime, before I speak to them about these three names, I would very much like to find a link between them. I have established that two are lifelong friends who play cards together every Saturday and go about together frequently. But the third does not reside in London. I do not know if she is even acquainted with the other two.”

“Who are these three women you suspect might have hired the murderer?”

“Lady Huxford and Lady Ferring are the two who are constant companions. But the third is Mrs. Stockard. She is not fond of life in London and she spends very little time here. She lives on one of her son’s estates.”

“Well, well, well,” he said softly.

She turned away from her examination of some ancient Roman coins and peered intently at him. “What is it, Vale?”

“I do not know if it means anything, but for what it’s worth, I saw Mrs. Stockard together with Lady Huxford and Lady Ferring in Bath last summer while I was conducting my researches on the mosaic floors of a Roman villa.”

“Joan came toward him, her expression brightening with anticipation. You saw them together? Did they seem to be good friends?”

“You know me, my dear, I have little patience with Society and those who move in it. But Bath is such a small place that it is impossible not to be aware of members of the ton who happen to be in town.”

She smiled knowingly. “And furthermore, it is your nature to be observant, sir. Tell me, what did you learn about those three ladies?”

“Not a great deal. I encountered them on the street on several occasions and once or twice in the bookshops.” He hesitated. “But I got the impression from some things that were said that all three ladies were in the habit of meeting in Bath quite regularly to take the waters. I believe they have done so for many years.”

Tobias strolled into the study shortly after five o’clock, just as Lavinia was considering a second glass of medicinal sherry. She rose quickly, relieved to see him.

“There you are,” she said. “I have been very worried. Do sit down, Tobias. I will pour you a glass of sherry.”

“Never mind the sherry.” He showed her the cloth-wrapped package that he carried under his arm. “I have concluded that when we are involved in a case together, I require a somewhat stronger restorative.”

She frowned at the package. “What is that?”

“French brandy.” He set the package on her desk and removed the cloth to reveal a dark bottle. “Smiling Jack was kind enough to allow me to purchase some from his new shipment.”

She watched with interest as he opened the bottle and poured a large amount of brandy into a glass. “Is it smuggled, do you think?”

He raised a brow. “Given Jack’s strong aversion to paying customs duties, I think we can be certain of it.” He downed a swallow of the brandy and looked at her. “Frankly, I did not bother to inquire into its origins. Would you care for some?”

“No, thank you, I believe I will stay with my sherry.” She went to the cabinet, picked up the decanter, and poured out a judicious amount. She studied the level of spirits in the glass for a few seconds and added some more. It had been a trying day, she reflected.

Tobias took his favorite armchair and propped his left ankle on a footstool. She settled back into her own chair.

“Very well,” she said. “Out with it. What did you do with Sweet Ned?”

“I turned him over to Jack.”

Startled, she lowered her glass. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“The boy needs to learn a more reliable trade.”

“Well, yes, but what on earth will Jack do? Teach him the art of tavern-keeping?”

“No. At least, not straightaway. As it happens, thanks to the connections he made in the course of his old profession, Jack is well acquainted with a number of ships’ captains. They are always in the market for new crew members. As we speak, Sweet Ned is on his way to a glorious new career at sea.”

“From what you’ve told me of your friend Jack, poor Ned has no doubt become a member of a smuggler’s crew.”

“Look on the bright side. If all goes well, the lad will earn enough to allow him to retire in a few years. You and I, my dear, can only hope to do the same.”

“And if things do not go well?”

“Do not concern yourself on that account. Jack will make certain that our Ned sails with an experienced captain who knows his business.”

She tilted her head against the back of the chair. “He is so young, Tobias. Just a boy, really. Probably alone in the world.”

“Do not waste any sentiment on Ned. He thought nothing of taking money to threaten you with a knife. In another year or two, he might have been willing to stick that same blade between your ribs for a similar fee.”

“Oh, I really don’t think”

“Trust me on this, Lavinia. Sweet Ned has all the makings of a professional villain.”

“Perhaps, But when one considers that he no doubt grew up in the stews with no prospects for the future, one can only feel pity.”

“I assure you, pity was most definitely not the emotion I experienced when I found him with you in that lane this afternoon.”

She smiled. “Do not tell me that you had no soft sentiments whatsoever. You could have taken him to Bow Street, where he would no doubt have been clapped in irons and later hung. Instead, you turned him over to Smiling Jack.”

“For all the good it will do.” Tobias looked down into the brandy.

“The lad is still likely to end his life dancing on the end of a rope.”

“If he does,” she said gently, “it will not be because you sent him there.”

He took another swallow of brandy and said nothing. But some of the grimness eased from his expression.

They sat together in silence for a time. After a while Tobias shifted slightly in his chair.

“What was it Aspasia wanted to discuss with you today?”

Lavinia swirled the sherry in her glass and took a quick sip. “She wanted to assure me that she has no designs on you.”

“I could have told you that.” He scowled. “In fact, if memory serves, I did tell you that. In no uncertain terms.”

“Not exactly. What you told me was that you had no romantic interest in her.”

He shrugged. “It amounts to the same thing.”

“Not quite,” she said coolly. “But be that as it may, I got the impression that she was ill-treated by both her father and her husband.

“She had vowed never to give her heart or to marry. And then she met Zachary Elland. You were right, she did, indeed, believe that they were true soul mates. She was stunned when she discovered the truth about him.”

“I am glad that the two of you have reached a degree of mutual understanding. I just wish she hadn’t dragged you off to that damned graveyard for that particular conversation.”

“It was not her fault. Sweet Ned followed me from the moment I left the house today. He was merely waiting for an opportunity to get me alone. If it had not been that lane outside the cemetery, it would have been somewhere else. An alley or a park, no doubt.”

“Do not remind me.” He drank more brandy and then he set the

“glass down on the arm of the chair. We must talk about why the killer would hire someone like Sweet Ned to warn you off the case.”

“Have you a theory?”

“I think it is likely that this new Memento-Mori Man sees you as a complication,” Tobias said. “His goal is to challenge me and to frighten Aspasia, but he has no use for you.”

“So he wants me to simply go away?”

“He probably believes that I will not allow you to continue to assist me on this case if I think that your life is in danger.” Tobias met her eyes. “He may be right.”

“Do not even think about it,” she warned. “You cannot order me to stop my inquiries. I am too deeply involved now.” She broke off at the sound of a knock on the study door. Yes, Mrs. Chilton?”

The door opened. “Mrs. Dove and Lord Vale to see you, madam,”

Mrs. Chilton said in the resonant tones she reserved for announcing distinguished guests.

“Good heavens. Both of them?” Lavinia leaped from her chair. She had grown almost blase about entertaining Joan, but the knowledge that Vale was here was another matter altogether. “Kindly show them into the parlor, Mrs. Chilton. And bring a tray of tea, if you would. Use the new oolong. Tell them that Mr. March and I will join them immediately.”

“Yes, madam.” Mrs. Chilton retreated, closing the door behind her.

“I can’t believe that Lord Vale is here in my house.” Lavinia shook out the folds of her gown and went to the mirror to check her hair.

“Do you think tea is sufficient for refreshments, Tobias? Perhaps I should offer him some sherry.”

Tobias got to his feet with a leisurely air. “Something tells me that Vale would much prefer a glass of my new French brandy.”

She turned away from the mirror. “Excellent notion. We’ll need glasses. You go on into the parlor and I’ll have a word with Mrs. Chilton.”

Tobias was amused. “You were not nearly this rattled this afternoon when I found you running out of that damned graveyard with a villain in pursuit.”

“This is Lord Vale we are talking about. There are hostesses in this town who would kill to have him in their ballrooms, and he is sitting right there in my little parlor.” She made shooing motions with both hands. “Hurry. I certainly do not want him to feel that he is obliged to cool his heels when he comes to call. I’ll tell Mrs.

“Chilton to get the extra glasses.”

“Ask her to put a couple of those little currant cakes on the tray, will you?” Tobias collected his brandy bottle and went leisurely toward the door. “I believe she mentioned that she had a few left over.”

“Oh, very well. Off with you.”

He went down the hall toward the parlor. She turned left and rushed into the kitchen.

“Brandy glasses for the gentlemen, Mrs. Chilton,” she said. “And Mr. March requested some currant cakes.”

Mrs. Chilton hoisted the kettle. “Aye, madam. I’ll be right in with the tray. You go tend to your guests.”

“Yes, of course.”

She took a deep breath, composed herself, and went back down the hall. The door of the parlor was open. She swept into the room with what she hoped was a degree of aplomb.

Vale stood at the window with Tobias. Joan was ensconced on the sofa, every fold of her fine azure-blue gown arranged with perfect precision and grace.

“Ah, there you are, Mrs. Lake.” Vale inclined his head. “I must say you look quite well for a lady who spent the afternoon playing cat-and-mouse with a villain in a graveyard.”

“I see Tobias has already brought you up to date.” She made her curtsy.

“You were not hurt?” Joan asked with an anxious look.

“I am fine, thank you.” She sat down on one of the chairs, hoping that her skirts would fall as elegantly as Joan’s. “Tobias and I were just discussing the villain’s motives. He believes that the killer has decided that I am a complication and wants to frighten me into abandoning my inquiries.”

“Your particular inquiries are what bring me here this afternoon.”

Joan slanted a quick glance at Vale. “I have some information that may be helpful. Indeed, I think I have almost managed to convince his lordship that these murders are all connected to the canceled weddings.”

Tobias gave Vale a considering look. “Is that true?”

“I still have some difficulty with the notion,” Vale said. “But I must allow that Joan has come up with the names of three elderly ladies who do, indeed, have undeniable motives for murder. And there is no doubt but that all three of them could afford to pay a killer, if they so chose.”

Elation soared through Lavinia. She looked at Joan. “Three elderly ladies? Tell me about them.”

“The first is Lady Huxford. I believe she might have had good reason to commission the death of Lord Fullerton at Beaumont Castle. You will recall that he had recently got engaged to Panfield’s daughter.”

“Yes, go on,” Lavinia said.

“Lady Huxford is the girl’s maternal grandmother. She is in her sixties, about the same age as Fullerton. According to a very reliable source, he seduced her years ago when she was in her first Season.

“But he broke off the affair to contract a more advantageous marriage. Her father was wealthy enough to be able to find her another suitor before it was generally known that she had been ruined. But she was heartbroken and never forgave Fullerton.”

“Then, one day, years later, she learns that the man who took advantage of her has made an offer for her granddaughter.” Lavinia was struck by the horror of it all. “Lady Huxford must have been beside herself with rage.”

“But there was nothing she could say or do to stop the wedding from going forward. Everyone else in the family thought it an excellent match. She could hardly tell them the truth about her own past, and it might not have done any good if she had.”

Mrs. Chilton entered with the tea tray. Tobias poured brandy into a glass and handed it to Vale.

“Who is the second suspect on your list of possible clients?” he asked.

“The Dowager Lady Ferring,” Joan said. “I believe she may have hired the killer to get rid of Lady Rowland, the woman who supposedly took an overdose of her own sleeping medicine. You will recall that Lady Rowland’s death resulted in the cancellation of her grand daughter’s engagement to Lady Fen-ing’s grandson.”

Lavinia nodded. “You told me that Lady Rowland was obsessed with seeing her eldest daughter married into the Ferring family because she had once conceived a great passion for the young man’s grandfather.”

Yes, well, it seems that Lord Fen-ing’s wife, Lady Ferring, was well-aware of the affair and was insanely jealous of Lady Rowland, who was a great beauty in her younger days. Indeed, I am told that the two ladies engaged in some spectacularly outrageous scenes that shocked Society. Those quarrels occurred some thirty years ago,

“but rumor has it that the animosity between the two women has never abated.”

“Then one day the Dowager Lady Ferring awakens to the news that her old nemesis, Lady Rowland, is plotting to link the two families by marrying her granddaughter off to young Ferring,” Lavinia whispered. I’ll wager she was enraged.”

“I do not understand,” Tobias said. Why would the wedding plans have been canceled after Lady Rowland’s death?”

“Because she was the only one in the family who was determined to marry the chit off to Ferring,” Joan said. “Once he got his hands on his mother’s fortune, the young lady’s papa made other plans for the money. It transpires that he has not one but seven daughters to see settled. He intends to divide up the inheritance equally among all of the girls. The eldest will not receive such a huge portion as Lady Rowland had intended and she is thus no longer considered a great prize. Young Ferring will be looking elsewhere for a bride.”

“Who do you believe commissioned the third murder?” Tobias asked, looking thoroughly intrigued now.

“The third death was that of Mr. Newbold,” Joan said. “In some ways it is the simplest to explain. Newbold was exceedingly wealthy, but he was a truly dreadful man. When he made his offer for young Miss Wilson, everyone in the family was willing to over look his ghastly reputation in favor of his finances. Everyone, that is, except the young woman’s maternal grandmother, Mrs. Stockard.

“She herself had been married to just such a lecherous rake hell in her youth, and she was not about to see her granddaughter suffer the same fate.”

“This is excellent work, Joan.” Intense satisfaction swept through Lavinia. She turned to Tobias. “There you have it, sir, strong motives and the financial means to accomplish their objectives.”

Tobias exchanged a look with Vale.

“There is a certain logic to the conclusion,” Vale said.

“Joan cleared her throat. There is also one more rather significant link. These three women appear to share a long-standing friendship, one that goes back for many years. I can vouch for the fact that two of them, Lady Huxford and Lady Ferring, are almost inseparable.”

“Now, that is interesting,” Tobias said quietly. “A close personal connection might explain how they all managed to happen upon the same helpful murderer. One discovered him and told her companions.”

Lavinia tapped her fingers on the arm of the sofa and concentrated on how to proceed. “I would very much like to have an opportunity to question some of these ladies.”

No one said a word. She realized they were all watching her quite intently.

“With great subtlety, of course,” she added smoothly.

“Of course,” Tobias growled into his brandy. You are so extremely skilled in the art.”

“Now, Tobias-”

“As I recall, the last time you attempted great subtlety, you managed to get us chucked out of Beaumont Castle. Without breakfast.”

“Really, sir, do you intend to throw that tiny little incident in my face every time you see an opportunity?”

“Yes,” Tobias said.

Joan smiled. “I had a feeling you might want to question the ladies, Lavinia. There is not much I can do about Mrs. Stockard, as she does not reside in Town. But I might be able to arrange for you to meet Lady Huxford and Lady Ferring.”

“That would be most helpful,” Lavinia said. “How do we go about it?”

“According to my friend who told me the old gossip, both ladies are very fond of attending the summer concerts at Vauxhall on the evenings when a fireworks display is scheduled. In fact, they rarely miss such entertainments. There is such an event scheduled for tomorrow night. I thought you and I might go together. I can arrange for a casual introduction. Will that do?”

“Perfectly.” Lavinia felt anticipation swirl through her. “This is great news. I have a feeling that we are very near the end of this case.”

Tobias looked out the window. “Then why do I have the sense that we are missing some vitally important clue?”

“No doubt because it is your nature to view every occurrence from the most depressing vantage point,” Lavinia said crisply. You ought to cultivate a more positive, optimistic outlook, sir. It would do wonders for your spirits.”

Somewhat to Tobias’s surprise, Vale elected to join him when he left

Number 7 to walk back to his club. One did not think of a man of Vale’s notoriously secretive and reclusive nature as given to going about Town on foot, Tobias thought. On the other hand, the man did spend a great deal of his time in the country digging up his Roman ruins, so he evidently was not opposed to physical exertion on principle.

The long light of the fading summer day bathed the streets and parks in that clear, soft radiance that was peculiar to the time of year. There was a depth and definition about the street scenes that drew the eye. Each window and doorway was picked out with a crisp precision that would have been far beyond the skill of any human artist. Yet the clarity and warmth of the sunlit spaces only served to heighten the intensity of the shadows in the narrow lanes and alleys.

“It would seem that your partner’s intuition concerning the motives for the murders may have been correct after all,” Vale said.

“I must admit that Lavinia and Joan have come up with a link between the three women and motives that I cannot afford to over look any longer.” Tobias shook his head. “Although the notion of three elderly ladies of the ton resorting to murder to cancel some marriage contracts is more than a little unsettling.”

“I will admit to you that when Joan first told me of the conclusion she and Lavinia had reached, a great shudder of dread went through me.”

Tobias almost smiled. “All too often we are inclined to underestimate the fairer sex.”

“Indeed.” Vale glanced at a group of young boys flying kites in the park. Today I learned a rather disturbing lesson in that regard myself. I had a conversation with Joan that was nothing short of illuminating. Did you ever pause to consider precisely how little marriage has to offer an intelligent, mature woman of independent means?”

Tobias watched one of the kites soar high above the treetops. “If you are about to inform me that the institution does not have a great deal to offer such a female, you may save your breath. I have had occasion to give the subject a good deal of thought myself lately.”

“I see.”

Tobias looked at him. “Can I assume that you have also been thinking along similar lines?”

Vale inclined his head very slightly in the smallest of gestures. “I had not planned to marry again after my wife died. Until recently, I saw no need. I have two sons, both of whom have set up their own nurseries, so the titles and the estates are secure. My researches into the ruins left by the Romans keep me occupied and provide me with much satisfaction. As for the particular comforts and pleasures one can obtain only from a woman, well, they are not so difficult to come by, as we both are well-aware.”

Especially when one was a wealthy, titled member of the nobility who could afford to keep any number of mistresses if it suited him, Tobias thought. But he did not offer that observation aloud. It was not entirely fair, in any event. Although Vale had no doubt conducted his share of discreet liaisons over the years, he was not one to flaunt expensive courtesans or consort with flashy members of the demi-monde.

“I had not been aware of a sense of loneliness until I began to spend more time with Joan,” Vale said. “It is almost as though I discovered an elixir I did not know I craved until I took a taste of it.”

“And having had the craving awakened, you are now consumed by a dark dread of the possibility that you may not be able to fully assuage your thirst.”

Vale slanted him a wryly amused look. “I see that you, too, have acquired a taste for a certain tonic.”

“I suppose there is one positive aspect to our predicament, Vale.”

“Indeed? What is that?”

“We may tell ourselves that men in our situations who do manage to convince our ladies to marry us at least have the satisfaction of knowing that they come to us in love and trust.”

“Rather than because of financial or social considerations?” Vale’s smile lacked all trace of real humor. What the devil will we do if they turn us down?”

“I suspect it is that pressing concern that prevents us from asking for their hands in the first place.”

“Yes.” Vale exhaled deeply. “Well, there is no purpose to be served by further discussion of that subject. It will only depress us both.

“Tell me, did you mean what you said a few minutes ago in Mrs. Lake’s parlor? Do you truly believe that you are missing some important clue in this murder case?”

“I’m sure of it.” Tobias watched one of the kites pitch steeply and fall, spinning wildly out of control toward the ground. “My partner is not the only one who possesses a degree of intuition. I have learned to my cost not to ignore my own instincts in these matters.”