“I know only of a few academics, artists, writers.”
“Could you write down their names and addresses for me?” Solomon asked.
“I could,” she said. “But you know, his wife will have a completely different set of friends to give you.”
“Then he led something of a double life?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” she said quickly. “Merely, he had a wide circle of friends who did not all mix.”
“But he might, perhaps, have been more likely to visit the bohemian set after midnight?”
“I don’t think he ever did. Apart from me.”
“Why you?”
“Because we have been friends since childhood. Almost brother and sister. And I have no spouse to disturb.”
“Miss Paul, was something troubling him in the last week or so of his life?”
She met his gaze, though hers shifted a little out of focus. “Do you know, I think perhaps something was? He didn’t tell me what, and I never asked. I presumed he would tell in his own time if I could help.” Again that flash of grief washed over her face and vanished. “One isn’t always given that time.”
“One isn’t,” he agreed. “Do you have idea what it was? Or when it began to bother him?”
“I don’t know what the problem was,” she said slowly, “but I suppose it began about a month ago.”
“When was his daughter’s engagement announced?” he asked on impulse.
Her lips parted in shock. “A little more than a month ago. But no, I’m sure you’re wrong. He was delighted when he told me of it. He liked young Cordell, and in truth, it is a most suitable match. Bella was deliriously happy, and that made him happy.”
“And troubled,” Solomon pointed out.
She flapped one impatient hand. “That was after.”
“How much after?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A week or so, maybe, before I noticed he was a little tense and uneasy. But he still spoke happily about the wedding and the preparations that were keeping his wife contented, too, so I can’t think it was anything to do with Cordell.”
“With Cordell’s family, perhaps? Do you know them?”
“Oh, we don’t move in the same circles at all. They are very conventional, I believe, and would thoroughly disapprove of me. Not just because they think I am Terrence’s mistress, but because I do unsuitable things for a woman.”
“Do you suppose they disliked Mr. St. John because of his perceived connection with you?”
Her expression was tolerantly scornful. “You haven’t quite grasped the hypocrisy of Polite Society, have you? Trust me, that is in your favor. No, they might disapprove of me, but Terrence indulging himself in discreet adultery would not raise an eyebrow. It would almost be expected.”
“Funnily enough, I have encountered that kind of attitude all too often. What else happened in St. John’s life in the last month? Anything unusual or new to him?”
“Not that he told me.”
For the first time, her answer was too quick. She might have been bored with the questioning, or not quite truthful.
“Did you quarrel with him?” he asked.
She smiled, an odd, sad little smile. “Rarely. We could shout at each other when we were young. Recently, not so much, and we were quieter about it. Maturity does bring some good sense. We didn’t argue much at all in the last month, no.”
“Whomdidhe quarrel with?”
“No one, I suspect. He was a hard man to rile because he generally saw all sides of an argument and was very tolerant by nature.” She swallowed and lifted her glass very slightly as though in a silent toast. “I shall miss him.”
