“Not much. Most of them weren’t at all interested in Reynold Bryce or his death. The consensus is that it was indeed the Jewish fanatic. But I did have a long chat with Willie Walcott and he had definitely been a close friend of Bryce’s, shall we say, and was peeved that Bryce had found a ‘new toy,’ as he put it. So I’m rather curious to know who or what that new toy was. I can see I’ll have to have another chat with the housekeeper when she comes to clean the place on Monday. But I really want to take a look for myself tomorrow, if Sid will lend me her trousers.”

Mary shook her head. “And to think I had a quiet life until you ladies descended on me.” But she was smiling.

As we came down the steps and out into the night air I opened my purse. “I did manage to pull off one thing,” I said. And I held up a champagne glass.

“You stole a glass from the Steins? Why?”

“It was Willie Walcott’s glass. I offered to hold it for him, but I hid it behind a curtain until he went for another one. Then I tipped out the remainder of the champagne and stuffed it into my purse. So if the police want to match fingerprints, we now have a set of Willie Walcott’s.”

A worried frown came over her face. “You really suspect Willie of doing this horrible deed?”

“He had a lot to lose. If I can just find out from the housekeeper when she saw him last at Bryce’s apartment and what she overheard between them. I imagine she would be the type that listens at keyholes. Whether she’ll confide in me is another matter. I may have to suggest that the police suspect her.…”

“I’m glad I only paint pictures for a living,” Mary said as she hailed a cab. “Such a peaceful occupation compared to yours.”

Chapter 29

Twenty-nine

I was awoken to the sound of bells, ringing out all over the city. I lay, watching stripes of early sunlight on my wall, listening first to the sweet chime of a nearby bell, then the deep reverberating hum of more important bells until the whole city seemed to be enveloped in sound. Liam stirred, turned over, and pulled himself up on the side of his crib.

“Ma!” he said. “Ma ma ma ma.”

“Liam, you’re standing,” I exclaimed. And almost talking too, I realized. I felt guilty that I was spending so much time apart from him and had missed his acquiring of two new skills. I picked him up.

“Can you say, ‘Mama’?” I asked.

He looked pleased with himself. “Ma ma ma ma ma,” he repeated.

“How about ‘Dada’?”