“I like it. American-made, I assume?”

“Ah’m afraid so, ma’am. Our factories ain’t back up to speed, and there ain’t enough metal available for toys just yet, so we’re getting much of our stock from the States. Which you’d expect, given that’s where the cowboys and Indians all live. Although we’re starting to get the Japanese toys in now.”

“Really? Already?”

“They weren’t bombed as badly as we were,” he said. “Cheap, inferior products, but they’re out there. A lot of us don’t take kindly to selling them, but the war’s over, so what’s a feller to do?”

“I’ll buy the American set,” said Gwen firmly.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, plucking it from the shelf. “Ah’ll ring that up for you. Will there be anything else?”

“Actually,” said Gwen, considering. “One more item, if I may.”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

CHAPTER 8

Iris was back at her desk when Gwen returned, shoving a sandwich into her mouth. She waved Gwen’s note with her other hand and motioned her to her desk.

“Any luck with Madame Bousquet?” asked Gwen.

Iris shook her head, then pointed an imaginary gun at her temple and let her eyes grow wide in fear.

“She was threatened?” exclaimed Gwen. “By whom? And how did they know?”

Iris shrugged, still chewing.

“Could you please swallow that so we could skip the Marx Brothers routine?” asked Gwen. “My Italian accent is wretched, anyway.”

Iris swallowed, then followed the sandwich with a glass of water.

“I left you high and dry too long,” she said. “Had to dash once I got back. No time for a proper lunch. Apologies. So we’re being paid a visit in a few minutes?”

“We are,” said Gwen, putting her shopping bag under her desk. “They received a letter with instructions. More important, it contained a letter written to Alice. I assume it was of an intimate nature, given how careful Patience was not to say anything about its contents.”

“Score one for you,” said Iris. “Any clue as to who wrote it?”

“She said it was signed with one initial.”

“Oh, I hope it was a Z!” said Iris.

“Tell me about Madame Bousquet. Use actual words in sentences this time.”

“Someone must have threatened her since yesterday. She wouldn’t give me much. But I did get the name of Alice’s maid. Vivienne Ducognon. She works for a woman named Calvert. Know any?”

“Lorraine Simpson married a Daniel Calvert, but I have no idea if she has a lady’s maid, much less a French one. I could give her a call, see if any of her husband’s family employs one. But how could anyone have learned about Madame Bousquet since we did?”

“Either our blackmailer was following leads independently and found her, or—” She hesitated.

“Or what?” asked Gwen.

“Or there’s a leak somewhere in our communications,” said Iris. “And it wasn’t us.”

“You can’t mean Patience,” said Gwen.

“Lady Matheson is the Queen’s solver of uncomfortable problems. She knew the truth about Talbot all along. She would have had a head start on all of this. She hired us to dig it up independently so she could pretend it came from an outside source.”