“That is the house of immorality Mrs. Willow was kind enough to mention yesterday afternoon.”
Men in street clothes came up the area steps and stopped beside the constable. Jacintha imagined they were the same policemen who had first called on her, but she couldn’t tell at this distance. It didn’t really matter. If they were focusing on that house, they weren’t focusing on hers.
The carriage bumped into motion again and whisked them onward to Veronique’s.
*
The wheelbarrow thathad presumably brought the body to the establishment’s back door had clearly come through the back gate from the mews. However, the trail vanished there under the passage of hooves, other wheels, and other feet. It was impossible to even tell which direction the barrow had come from.
Constance and Solomon, having agreed with Inspector Harris’s assessment, told him about the manure and the notice on the gate the day before, and pointed him toward Mrs. Willow and her sister as a possibility.
“He doesn’t look pleased,” Constance said as they left the house and strolled up toward the square where they were to meet Cordell. As they walked, she drew the veil of her hat down over her face. Since she was wearing black, it was a reasonable disguise against recognition going into the St. Johns’ house.
“I’m not pleased either,” Solomon said. “If that poor man was stolen from a paupers’ grave, as Harris seemed to think, then that is a considerable amount of malice. Especially if they were responsible for bringing the other bodies.”
Constance stared at him. “How many people can there be in such a small area, able and willing to lug dead bodies around and pose them at houses of ill repute?”
“This poor devil wasn’t posed,” Solomon pointed out. “He was tipped, and in something of a hurry too. No care was taken to erase footprints or barrow marks. And unlike the first bodies, there can be no doubt that this fellow didnotdie on our doorstep. It wasn’t necessarily the same person.”
Constance frowned. “But someone is making it commonplace to discover bodies on our doorstep. A distraction from the previous murders? Or a simple attempt to drive us out? Perhaps it wasallintended to drive us out.”
“Murder seems a step too far for such a campaign,” Solomon protested, opening the gate to the garden in the center of the square.
There, an elderly gentleman dozed in the morning sunshine. A maid walked a panting pug who sniffed at every plant. Constance and Solomon gazed about them, searching for two elderly ladies without success.
Cordell rose from a bench near the middle of the square and walked toward them. “I was about to give up on you,” he murmured as he doffed his hat to Constance.
“Excuse us,” Solomon said, and told him about the latest development.
To Constance, Cordell’s shock was genuine. “That’s outrageous! Not to say dangerous—who knows what the man died of? There must be something more to this. I cannot imagine two old ladies going so far in their moral quests. It puts them quite in the wrong.”
“Many people believe the ends justify the means. In all matters. I presume you have the key?”
Cordell grimaced. “I do. But I don’t think she has forgiven me. It is you she trusts, not me.”
“She is shocked and grieving,” Constance said. “Give her time to adjust her view of the world.”
Cordell glanced around, as though to be sure he would not be overheard even by a stranger. “What if we do find out something reprehensible about her father? That is hardly going to improve her trust in men in general, or me in particular.”
“You said you wanted to know,” Solomon reminded him. “And that sheneedsto know.”
Cordell nodded, though he still looked unhappy as they left the gardens and crossed to the St. Johns’ gracious house.
The bell was answered swiftly by a butler, who looked vaguely surprised, though he opened the door wider to admit them. “Mr. Cordell.”
“Good morning again, Hutton. Is Miss Bella returned yet?”
“Oh no, sir. We don’t expect them for another hour at least.”
“That long, eh? I was sure they would be back… Mr. and Mrs. Grey here wished to pay their respects to the family.”
“That is most kind.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong about a whole hour, Hutton. Perhaps we could just wait in the drawing room, and you can inform Mrs. St. John as soon as she returns?”
“Very good, sir,” Hutton said, with such a sympathetic glance at Cordell that Constance suspected the servants all knew the young couple had quarreled. Which was good. They would assume Constance and Solomon were his excuse to call again and make amends. “Mr. Anthony is not up yet, but perhaps he won’t be long either.”
Hutton took Solomon’s hat, inclining his head with recognition, and left Cordell to lead them up to the drawing room.
