“No, I don’t think so. One doesn’t install a telephone over a hobby.”
“Quite right.”
“Perhaps he double-crossed someone, and they killed him,” I suggested. “I know your brother doesn’t think anything was taken from the flat, but how would he even know? From what I saw the man had a number of valuables in his possession.”
“That is one possibility,” Mr. Dorian allowed. “But I am afraid you are overlooking the most likely suspect: the wife.”
“But Madame Fontaine said she lives abroad.”
“She could have returned, though,” he pointed out. “And she will likely inherit everything. The spouse is always the prime suspect for that reason.”
I mulled over this for a moment. “All right. Say she did return to kill him. Why now?”
Mr. Dorian shrugged. “Maybe she needed money.”
“Or,” I began as an idea formed, “she knew Charles wantedto marry again and that she would no longer be his beneficiary. Even if he was in debt, I’m sure that collection of his is worth a pretty penny.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That is certainly a motive.”
I leaned forward. “Have you discussed any of this with your brother? Does he think Mrs. Pearson is a suspect?”
Mr. Dorian rolled his shoulders. “I haven’t spoken to him about this case since the morning after the murder.”
“But then how did you know about the development—”
“Because I paid for that information,” he said grimly. “Don’t look so shocked.”
“I’m not shocked,” I lied. “I’m confused. Why can’t you just ask him?”
His jaw tightened. “My brother would never willingly share information about a case he is working on with me. And he would only do that under great duress. He does not approve of my profession, Mrs. Harper.”
I shook my head. “I thought he read your books.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “My brother doesn’t read my books.”
“But he mentioned—” Then I stopped short, as I very much didnotwant to finish that sentence.
“Mentioned what?” he prompted.
“Just … something he said made me think he had read your last book,” I replied, hoping that would satisfy him.
Mr. Dorian narrowed his eyes. “What did he say?” He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.
I swallowed and looked for Tommy. He was up ahead near the Serpentine, but too far to save me from this conversation. “He seemed to think the dedication was connected to me,” I said in a great rush as my cheeks heated.
It sounded utterly ridiculous now that I spoke it aloud, and to him of all people. The deafening silence that followed was all the confirmation I needed from Mr. Dorian.
“I see,” he finally replied.
I managed a nod in response, as I couldn’t look at him just yet. At least I could blame this assumption on his brother and found comfort in the knowledge that he would never know that I too had made the same inference once.
I cleared my throat, desperate to move on. “You told Madame Fontaine about me, then?” I cast a quick glance at him.
“I merely asked to be informed if you came to call on her.” Then he shot me a look. “It seemed a good way to know if you really were conducting your own investigation.”
Given the woman’s reaction to my appearance, I suspected he did more than simply ask. “And did you say that to anyone else?”
“No. But then I haven’t gotten around to speaking with anyone else,” he admitted. “Have you?”
