Page 96 of Corpse in the Canal

“Would Owens care any more than you do? Does he have patients among the poor in Channing?”

“Yes, I think so.” Everett dragged one hand through his hair and sat down again, reaching for his tea. “Why do you ask?”

“He claims that’s where he was when Percy was killed. But he didn’t know that the vicar was in the same few streets at the same time, although he later pretended otherwise. We couldn’t find anyone who’d seen him that day. Did you?”

“No. No, I didn’t. Look, Owens would not lie. He has no reason to!”

“Then he never confided in you any concern for his daughter being around Percy?” Constance asked.

“Percy and… No.”

“Did Percy pursue Penelope?”

“Good God,” Everett said. “I suppose he might have. Percy flirted with all women, to put it no worse.”

“How did Penelope respond to him?”

The telltale flush began to mount to Everett’s cheeks again. “She didn’t, of course.”

Constance didn’t believe that. He was remembering something.

“How would Dr. Owens have responded?” Solomon asked.

“How do you think?” Everett demanded. “He knew what Percy was and that he would certainly never have married the daughter of a country doctor. He was supposed to be engaged to an earl’s daughter.” He groaned. “Look, don’t go reading violence into my words! No one I know could have murdered Percy, however out of control he was. We knew him as a child. Owens could no more kill him that I could.”

Constance decided they had shaken all the truths from him that they could for the moment. She set her cup and saucer on the table. “Thank you for your help, Sir Felix. I believe I must take my husband home to rest.”

*

Constance intended to observe Solomon during another rest at Channing House and perhaps catch up with Inspector Harris’s investigations before deciding whether or not to go alone in search of Penelope.

In the end, she didn’t need to make that decision, let alone fight with Solomon over it. Miss Owens was shown into Mrs. Harvey’s drawing room bearing a tonic for Mrs. Harvey and another for Solomon.

“My father has been thinking about you both but is called to a difficult lying-in in the town,” she said brightly. “So he bade me bring this to you, and inquire after your health, Mr. Grey.” Penelope barely looked at Solomon as she spoke. And even though she had been outside in quite a blustery wind, her cheeks were pale. “I did not expect to see you up and about,” she added, sitting.

“I don’t suppose you did,” Constance said pleasantly, attracting a quick, alarmed glance from Penelope. “An inch to the right and he would never have got up.”

Penelope shuddered, as though she couldn’t help it.

“Horrifying,” Harvey declared. “I cannot believe such things are happening here. But I hope you feel comforted, Penelope, by the fact that we now have police detectives from London on the case too. No one will dare shoot anyone else.”

“I hope not,” Constance said.

Penelope cast her another nervous glance. “I’m sure you are right, sir. I’m afraid I must be off—”

“You won’t have tea?” Mrs. Harvey asked in apparent surprise.

“Thank you, but no. I have another delivery to make before dinner. I just wanted to make sure for myself…” Penelope rose somewhat jerkily from her chair. “No, please don’t get up,” she said quickly to Solomon, already backing away to the door.

Constance stood, following her ruthlessly. “Since you are here, perhaps I might consult you on a private matter, Miss Owens? It will only take a moment.”

“My father—” she began.

“Is not here,” Constance pointed out, opening the door and ushering her out.

She gave Penelope no opportunity to elude her, taking her by the arm and all but marching her across the hall and into the empty morning room, where she closed the door and leaned against it.

Penelope was trying to look unconcerned, though her hands shook as she twisted them together. “I am hardly a doctor, Mrs. Grey. On medical matters, I am not qualified to consult—”