“Thank you. In all honesty,youare running a trifle to seed. But then, you’d have to be to associate with Mr. Kenny. Or is it Mrs. Kenny?”
“Hard to tell, but there’ssomeonein the house. Upstairs.”
Again, her heart thudded, and she only just stopped herself from glancing away from him to the windows. He looked, though.
“Who?” she asked.
“Just a shadow passing the window at the front when I first turned up. Faint sounds when I pressed my ear to the door.”
Was he lying to her? Solomon had said Madly knew Kenny but hadn’t seemed interested. Whatwashis interest now?
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“Oh, someone mentioned the name Veronique recently. I just came for a look. Why areyouhere? I can’t believe the inestimable Kenny is a client of yours.”
“Did you follow him here?” she asked bluntly.
“No. But he lives here, doesn’t he? And no one has answered your knock. Yet.”
He took another step forward, but to the side so that he stood beside her, slightly in front. Her heart in her mouth, sheturned to face the back door and heard the distinct clunk of a key turning in the lock.
She could be trapped here, between Madly and Kenny. At best, if Madly proved to be on her side, she could be trapped in the middle of a vicious fight. She had no idea which of them would win, or what Madly’s motive was for being here at all. Surely her best chance was flight.
And yet if she did flee, she might never know who was turning that handle. Kenny might slip away again. She had to know…
Poised for flight, her heavy bag again grasped like a weapon, she watched the door open.
Solomon stepped out, as elegant and suave as ever.
Her knees sagged with sheer relief, and yet somehow she closed the distance between them, as though protecting him from Madly’s attack.
“Sol,” she breathed, as his arm came around her waist, solid and soothing.
“Mr. Grey,” Madly said, as though amused. “I should have known. Quite an ally, Constance.”
“I see you have met my wife,” Solomon said calmly, and she had the satisfaction of seeing surprise in Madly’s jaded eyes.
“Oh, very well done,” he said admiringly. “Quite the catch, Mrs. Grey. So you are the Silver part of the equation.”
Constance had no interest in words. She was shaking Solomon by the lapel. “What were youdoingin there?”
“Looking for Kenny,” he said as though it were obvious—which, in retrospect, it was. He had had the same idea as she. “In vain, I might add.”
“How did you get in?”
“The back door was unlocked. Sergeant Flynn was uncharacteristically careless.” Solomon’s gaze was locked to Madly’s. “And you came to…?”
“Idle curiosity,” Madly said, just a little too studied in his nonchalance. “You mentioned the name Veronique.”
In connection with blackmail. In connection to Jacintha St. John, with whom he had once eloped.
“And the outside chance of seeing Mrs. St. John,” Constance said. “But the shop was closed, so you skulked about, looking for a way in, and found Solomon was before you. And me.”
“Not by much,” Solomon said modestly. “I had only just got in when I saw Madly from the window. I wanted to see what he would do, only then you appeared too, and I thought it was time we conferred.”
Or he thought it was time he gave Constance his physical protection.
“It’s conceivable,” he added, “that Fynn wasnotcareless but left the door open on purpose to see who would take advantage. In which case, the police will be back, and we should probably not linger.”
