Harris grunted. It changed nothing important in his eyes.
“What about his finances?” Solomon asked. “Did you get access to his bank?”
“Yes, through his solicitor. He was very well off, no troubles, although he was shelling out extraordinary amounts of money for his daughter’s wedding. Gowns, champagne, an elaborate breakfast, new jewelry. In all, more than the rest of us are likely to earn in our lifetimes. Present company excepted.”
“Could he afford it?”
“Apparently so.”
“Any payments that were odd? Unaccountable to you or the solicitor?”
“If you’re thinking blackmail,” Harris said, “I’d be surprised. I found nothing to suggest it. In fact, the man appears to have been beyond reproach. No one has had a bad word to say about him. No affairs—unless you count the Paul woman, which seems to have been an open secret—and nothing to hold over his head. His wife knows about it. So does Cordell, the girl’s prospective father-in-law.”
“Have you met Cordell senior, then? What is he like?”
“Very upright and rigid. Not quite a caricature, but a decent man, well respected.”
“Does he approve of the marriage?”
“Heartily.”
Solomon smiled wryly. “You know, in most of our cases, we have so many suspects that we have trouble ruling them all out. In this case, we can find no one who wished the man ill, or would benefit from his death—I suppose that would only be his son?”
“In trust until he is twenty-one. But yes. The family is all taken care of, and the servants have small legacies according to how long they have been with the family. Charities benefit too to some degree.”
“What did you think of the marriage?”
“Cordial. No complaints on either side.”
“You see?” Solomon said. “No damned suspects. Dare I ask what lines of inquiry you are pursuing?”
“Looking at Nevvy the vagrant, but there’s no obvious connection, except for the hospital. It may be that it was just a horrible accident. One sick man and another in his cups, finding some kind of solace in each other’s company.”
“Do you believe that?” asked Solomon.
“I’m beginning to,” Harris said morosely.
*
From Scotland Yard,Solomon delved into the darker regions along the Thames, heading eastward toward Limehouse. In his convoluted voyage from Jamaica, which ended in London, he had visited Hong Kong and mainland China. He had seen opium dens and knew roughly where to look in London. But even the most opulent he had seen in the East had depressed him. The hot, airless, stinking dens of East London were almost unbearable. And quite useless, since the owners were close-lipped to the point of pretending not to understand him, and the patrons mostly too addled to be reliable.
After his third visit to a den, he found a hackney to take him back to the office. He was convinced he had wasted his time. He could not imagine the fastidious St. John in such a place, even to buy opium to smoke somewhere else later. Besides, wasn’t the preparation of the drug for smoking different from that used in laudanum, and the powdered variety bought from apothecaries?
Perhaps St. John and Nevvy simply swapped, and St. John bought the opium with his entire wallet.
But why?
Increasingly discontented, Solomon returned to the office to think. He read through the notes that Constance had begun, and then added the minor snippets he had learned from Harris. He felt frustrated by how little they were learning. What they needed was Constance’s view of the family. And that was impossible.
On top of which, the malicious manure incident bothered him far too much. Since Constance’s poisoning in Venice, he had grown vastly overprotective of her and had to force himself to bite his tongue and stay his hand, especially if he allowed the possibility that it was something to do with the murder of St. John.
A knock at his office door heralded the unfamiliar face of the new girl, Hat. He was so used to Janey that it took him a moment to realize who she was.
“A lady to see you, sir.” She darted over to give him a visiting card. “Miss Paul.”
Surprised, he said, “Show her in, if you please.”
“Should I make tea?” Hat asked nervously.
