Lenny jumped up. “I’ll go, if you tell me where she lives.”
Solomon blinked. If Lenny knew of the establishment’s existence, he clearly did not know where it was, or even perhaps that Janey lived there. According to Constance, Janey was at least half in love with Lenny and had not yet told him about her disreputable past. Well, that was up to Janey.
Solomon stood, too. “No, I’ll go. If you would oblige me by remaining here to take any messages?”
“Of course.”
Was the man disappointed? Solomon, with an increasing sense of urgency, did not linger to find out. Something had happened that must be affecting both Janey and Constance.
Chapter Two
“Undoubtedly it isI,” Constance drawled. “Constable Napier, is it not? We meet again in unfortunate circumstances.”
Napier glanced around the tasteful, elegant room, aiming for contempt, though he ended by looking more surprised. Perhaps he had been expecting cheap red velvet and chipped gilt, and blowsy half-dressed women sprawling on the furniture. “Your circumstances don’t look so unfortunate to me.”
“I was referring to those of the dead men on my doorstep,” Constance said. She met the gaze of the second man, who was slightly older and in uniform and wore an expression of appalled bewilderment. “Sergeant, I am Mrs. Grey. Do sit down.”
“Sergeant Bilston, ma’am, from Bow Street,” the older man said with an awkward bow. He sat opposite her, and so did Napier, perched rigidly on the edge of the seat. “You are not, then, the owner of these premises?”
“Yes, I am. I am recently married and so I am no longer Mrs. Silver.”
“Grey?” Napier pounced, staring. “You married him? Fitting!”
“Was that your good wishes, constable?” Constance said affably. “Thank you. Sergeant Bilston, do you have any idea who the dead men are or how they came to be on my doorstep?”
“We are looking into that, ma’am. The gentleman certainly appears to have died by violence, but that is really all we know sofar. Tell me, are you acquainted with your neighbor in Grosvenor Square, Mr. St. John?”
“No, I don’t know the name. Or the face.”
“Then he isn’t one of your…clients?” Napier sneered.
“I believe I said I did not know him.”
“Of course, ma’am,” the sergeant said nervously. “Was it you who found the bodies, ma’am?”
“No, it was my gardener and my assistant cook—they had just come out of the back door and discovered them when I arrived.”
“Arrived from where?” Napier interrupted.
“From my home.”
They both looked confused now.
“I thought thiswasyour home?” Bilston said.
“It was, before my marriage.” She opened her reticule and fished out one of the new cards inscribedMr. and Mrs. Solomon Grey, with the address in smaller print beneath.
“Then this is just your place of…business?” Napier said.
“Sort of, I suppose,” Constance replied. “My friends continue to live here. They pay rent, of course, and help me run the club and the charity.”
Napier laughed. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes,” Constance said.
Napier’s lips curled with contempt. “I think we all know what this—”
“Constable!” Sergeant Bilston cut him off, almost with desperation.
