“Tony Servino was not a nice man. I can’t understand how my husband put up with him.”

“He liked him, though.”

She both shook and nodded her head, a difficult denial of the truth for her. “It’s true that Gerald invited him here. Said after all he was Flora’s husband. A few times, he even brought a friend with him.”

“What friend?”

“Oh, someone Gerald thought entertaining.”

Jury didn’t prompt her.

“What was his name?” Her fist gently hit her forehead as if the mind could take the beating. “Scruffy little man … another Italian.”

Jury smiled. Scruffiness foretold. “Another besides Tony Servino, you mean? But he was English, Lady Summerston.”

“Not truly English, Superintendent, though. Italian heritage, certainly.” She returned to the friend’s identity. “Vincent—They called him ‘Vince’ … Morini? No, Mori. That was it: Vincent Mori. As I said, Tony occasionally brought him here to dinner. For some reason, Gerald took to him. But Gerald was quite egalitarian.”

Jury put the egalitarianism down to the Gerald-myth. “Would you happen to know where he lives?”

She raised an eyebrow. “No, I don’t. I seem to recall references to Limehouse. Yes, I think that was where he lived.”

“You really didn’t like him, did you?”

“This Mori person? Of course not—”

“No. I mean Tony Servino.”

“No, I didn’t. I’ve said before that he was a real scoundrel. He had other women. He cheated people, including his partner, as I recall. And he victimized Flora both physically and verbally. He certainly wasn’t worthy of her.”

“How would you assess Flora’s worthiness?”

Eleanor frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Just that. What has your niece done or been that would raise her so far above her husband?”

“Breeding, for one thing. Her father was a respected barrister. Tony’s father owned a fish and chips shop.”

“Well, that would certainly earn him my sergeant’s respect.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry. What else about Flora?”

“She’s highly educated: Oxford.”

“And her husband lacked education?”

She sighed with impatience. “Mr. Jury, I’ve told you about Tony Servino, how he victimized her.”

“Yes, you have; only in this case, the victim was Tony.” Jury took a last, cold sip of tea and rose. “Thank you for your time, Lady Summerston.”

At the bottom of the steps, he pulled out his phone. “Wiggins, there’s someone I want you to find. Get his address, if possible: Vincent Mori. He might have lived at one time in Limehouse.”

“Who is this, boss?”

“Good friend of Tony Servino. And possibly partner.”

“One he ripped off?”

“To hear Lady Summerston tell it, Tony ripped off everybody. A ‘real scoundrel,’ she said. Still, Gerald Summerston seemed to like him.”

“Maybe they were scoundrels together.”

Jury liked that. “The virtuous Gerald Summerston?”

“Sounds a little too virtuous for my tastes.”

“I’ll wait in the car. Call me back when you have something.”