Page 101 of Corpse in the Canal

Solomon drew in a breath. “With Adelaide. She, of all people, seems to have the best motive. Except…”

“Except?” Constance prompted him.

“Except I find it hard to believe she would do it and then lie. Not after she told us the truth about Everett’s devotion.”

“She is loyal,” Constance allowed. “To you and to those who stand by her. She would not lie to you, unless…”

“What?”

“If she is tried and found guilty, she will likely hang. Leaving her son without a mother. If any loyalty takes precedence over you, it is to Clarence. It’s the simplest solution, Sol.” And yet she didn’t quite believe it. She didn’t want to, for Adelaide’s sake, and Clarence’s. And David’s.

And Sol’s.

He said, “Something is missing. Something we don’t know, or something we’re not seeing. This has always been about Adelaide, and yet I don’t believe she did it.”

“Which leaves Everett, Owens, and West. We’ve been rather forgetting about West. To say nothing of this underworld character from London.” She groaned. “Are we any further forward than when we first found the body?”

*

Constance had given voice to a lowering thought lurking at the back of Solomon’s mind. They knew their suspects a little better and had a vague idea of Percy’s surreptitious movements on his return from London, but that was all.

Solomon was aware of all too many distractions in this case—his initial worry about Constance’s health and secrecy, the wonder of approaching parenthood, even the old emotions stirred up by Adelaide’s presence here.

If neither he nor Constance were concentrating fully on the case, if other things had grown more important, then they deserved their first failure.

Maybe it was time to walk away from Silver and Grey.

But not in the middle of the mystery. If witnesses did not answer—or did not have the answers to—their questions, then they needed to rethink the questions. Or just think…

Both the Harveys sat at the breakfast table when he and Constance entered. They looked solemn, and he remembered with a jolt that the funeral was today. The sheer tragedy of burying one’s own child overwhelmed him.

“There is a letter for Mrs. Grey,” Mrs. Harvey told them. “I put it by your place. Let me pour you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you,” Constance said, going toward the table at once, while Solomon filled plates from the sideboard. “It’s probably from our assistant in…” She trailed off, frowning, and picked up the letter.

The kitchen had already provided a slice of toast with their early tea, so she had got over her morning nausea.

“Not from Janey?” Solomon asked, carrying plates to the table and sitting beside her. It was probably too early to expect answers from that part of the investigation.

Constance shook her head. “No, it’s from my mother. Janey sent it on…” She read quickly, reaching for her teacup, then let out a startled exclamation and almost dropped the cup. “Oh, Juliet!”

Solomon’s stomach twisted. The mother and daughter frequently annoyed each other, so such outbursts were hardly rare, but there was real fear in Constance’s voice.

“What has she done now?” he asked as lightly as he could.

She raised her eyes to his, her lips parted in shock. “She says she is getting married.”

Solomon’s eyebrows flew up. “Kellar?”

“Who else?” She dropped the letter in front of him.

Sebastian Kellar was an ambiguous, even mysterious character, a diplomat who had helped them in Venice and whom they had suspected as a murderer in a subsequent case. That he had an incomprehensible past with Constance’s far-from-respectable mother had not made that case any easier to solve. But he had proved his worth in several ways, not least in bringing Juliet a new kind of happiness. They were frequently in each other’s company.

“Well, it is hardly a surprise, is it?” Solomon said, struggling to understand his wife’s attitude to the wedding.

“No,” Constance said bitterly, “but she doesn’t need to do it tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow?” Solomon repeated. “Well, you can take the carriage home today…”