“I froze at that. But I found the words to get Mrs. Hemple to repeat what she’d said. The body had been discovered on the morning after the dinner party here in Jude’s, where an angry Spanish speaker had been followed from the college by two of our dons. Rosa researched the facts in the press . . .”

“And we found that all Mrs. Hemple had to report was accurate. Mr. Ricardo de Angelis, dance instructor at an academy of terpsichore in town, had indeed been stabbed to death. No one was arrested for the crime,” Rosa said.

“Could that be the reason you signed on at the tango school when you arrived in town, Miss Wells? Playing the detective?”

“She doesn’t ‘play detective,’ Redfyre!” The master was quick with his reprimand. “She finds things out efficiently—faster, apparently, than the men we pay to be detectives! Things that perhaps your force ought to have established for itself some time ago. I’m here doing a job I don’t want to do because your lot have not done their job adequately.”

Before he could apologise, Rosa stepped in, eager, he thought, to short-circuit an awkward exchange. “Yes, John, you’re right. It was the reason for joining, but I stayed for the dancing! Why don’t you come to a session this Friday? The day after tomorrow. You could warm up before the May ball. There will be people there that you know. It’s to be a special event. The last meeting of the year. Madame Dorine always takes the class outdoors and they waltz, tango and fox-trot their way down King’s Parade! She’s allowed to put a small band on the lawn by the college gates. People wander out of the bars and alehouses with their glasses in hand and join in the fun. It’s by way of being a recruitment display and everyone is in their best bib and tucker and dancing their socks off. Do say you’ll come!”

This was the last thing Redfyre wanted to do on his Friday evening. He needed to work overtime on his notes, but above all, he did not want to expose himself to the public gaze while posturing his way incompetently through a tango. He looked regretfully into her wide blue eyes and murmured, “I shall be delighted, Miss Wells. Shall I pick you up or meet you there? Ah, you’ll be escorted by Digby Gisbourne, of course.”