He had met Gia in this room.

Aunt Nellie sat lost in a recliner by the cold fireplace. A chubby, white-haired woman in her late sixties in a long dark dress adorned with a small diamond brooch and a short string of pearls. A woman used to wealth and comfortable with it. At first glance she appeared depressed and shrunken, as if she were in mourning, or preparing for it. But as they entered she pumped herself up and arranged her face into a pleasant expression, putting on a smile that wiped away a good many of her years.

“Mr. Jeffers,” she said, rising. Her accent was thickly British. Not Lynn Redgrave British; more like a reedy Robert Morley. “So good of you to come.”

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Paton. But just call me Jack.”

“Only if you call me Nellie. Would you care for some tea?”

“Iced, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” She rang a little bell on the endtable next to her and a uniformed maid appeared. “Three iced teas, Eunice.” The maid nodded and left. An uncomfortable silence followed in which Nellie seemed to be lost in thought.

“How can I help you, Nellie?”

“What?” She looked startled. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I was just thinking about my sister, Grace. As I’m sure Gia told you, she’s been gone for three days now… disappeared between Monday night and Tuesday”—she pronounced it Chew sday—”morning. The police have come and gone and find no evidence of foul play, and there’s been no demand for ransom. She is merely listed as a missing person, but I’m quite certain something has happened to her. I shan’t rest until I find her.”

Jack’s heart went out to her, and he wanted to help, but…

“I don’t do missing-persons work as a rule.”

“Yes, Gia did say something about this not being in your line”—Jack glanced over to Gia but she avoided his gaze— “but I’m at my wits’ end. The police are no help. I’m sure that if we were back home we’d have more cooperation from Scotland Yard than we’ve had from the New York Police. They simply aren’t taking Grace’s disappearance seriously. I knew you and Gia were close and remembered Eddie Burkes mentioning last year that your assistance had proven invaluable at the Mission. Never would tell me what he needed you for, but he certainly seemed enthusiastic.”

Jack was seriously considering placing a call to “Eddie”— hard as it was to imagine someone calling the U.K. Mission’s security chief “Eddie”—and telling him to button his lip. Jack always appreciated referrals, and it was nice to know he had made such an impression on the man, but Burkes was getting just a little bit too free with his name.

“I’m flattered by your confidence, but—”

“Whatever your usual fee is, I daresay I’ll gladly pay it.”

“It’s a question of expertise rather than money. I just don’t think I’m the right man for the job.”