Felperstone took his snuffbox from his jacket pocket and snorted a hefty helping before sneezing into a grubby pocket handkerchief. Robert, needless to say, was revolted by this filthy, squalid, English habit.

“Remember that old saying, sir? Where there’s smoke…” There was anxiety in the yellow smile. And well might the detective be anxious. The more Robert thought about it, the more the story did not sit well with him. The notion of his wife—his Genevieve—hurting herself deliberately. This couldn’t be right.

“The story was paper thin,” he pronounced. “The woman knew nothing.”

“Nobody likes to hear such things about their nearest and dearest, sir.”

“I expect it’s her first time abroad,” said Robert. “How convenient for her that this should have come up mid-August. The school would have broken up for the summer. A pleasant little holiday, wouldn’t you agree? All expenses paid. Very nice.”

“That’s as may be, sir, but I don’t think we should dismiss this out of hand. People who fabricate stories usually offer a more complete version of events. Sometimes too complete. Whereas Mrs. Galler’s story—well, it’s an odd little fragment, and I’d say it has a ring of truth about it.”

“Ring of truth? I didn’t pay all that money for mere gossip. She offered no means of corroboration, not even the name of the friend—‘little whatsname.’”

“Names can be discovered, sir.” And he sneezed a second time into the dirty handkerchief.

“So you think it’s worth pursuing this.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Don’t you worry, sir. The headmistress has passed away, unfortunately. But we shall uncover ‘little whatsname,’ wherever she’s hiding. We’ll find out the whole story, sir. We’re close—I can smell it.”

Those yellow teeth again. And another big pinch of snuff.

He covered his face with his hands, hoping that he could remain that way until Felperstone had gone. But the detective lingered on.

“I was wondering, sir…”

“Your fee?” He peeped through his fingers as he asked the question.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, sir. With your permission, I shall involve a colleague of mine in England—very reliable he is, and he’ll be wanting…”

But Robert had stopped listening. He was lost in the horror of it all. Those evil images.

A nasty, rusting old bath smeared with Genevieve’s blood.

( twenty-one )

GENEVIEVE HAD HARDLY SEEN Lulu for weeks—just the occasional chat over desserts at Rumpelmayer’s. She’d been keeping to the apartment in the evenings, only going out for a dinner or trip to the theater with Robert. Nights out with Lulu had become dangerous—they led to places she couldn’t allow herself to go to. Robert was delighted that his wife was staying at home more and spending less time with Lulu. But Lulu was far from happy about it.