The alley ended. My hands searched the wall until they found the corsetry’s back entrance. I opened a small leather case. Silver instruments gleamed in the dark.

“I don’t like you owning burglar’s tools,” Hellida said.

“They were a gift from my father the year I turned twelve.”

“And did he teach you how to use them?”

“What do you think?”

The latch popped open as gently as a baby opening her eyes.

“We have penetrated Madame Fournier,” said Hellida.

“Don’t be vulgar. Burglary is a noble art.”

We crept through the back room and into the main storeroom, where faint moonlight fought through grimy windows. We kept low and felt our way toward the yellow corsets.

“Just what are we looking for?” said Hellida.

“That damnable crate. I spent all night trying not to wonder what was inside.”

“And?”

“I failed.”

Hellida picked up a particularly fearsome buttercup girdle, which had enough buckles and straps to restrain an inmate at Bellevue. She pressed it to her torso, considered it for a moment, then cast it aside. Some women have better things to worry about than an eighteen-inch waist.

“Call me simple,” she said, “because I know you’ll think this is just another stupid Hellida question, but isn’t there a chance that the crate is full of corsets?”

“Galen Copeland was not murdered for corsets.”

“Who’s to say? Fashion is cutthroat. Men have been killed for less.”

I reached deep into the rack of yellow corsets. The ones in front scratched my cheek, and dust got in my mouth.

“And besides,” she went on, “what business is it of yours how a man chooses to get murdered? Breaking and entering is one thing, but going out after dark is suicidal, Gilda. It reminds me of your father, the year before he left us, when we’d stay up all night drinking cocoa. You’d shake, remember? From the tips of your fingers to the split ends of your hair, and you’d tell me it was only the cold. But you were afraid for him, afraid he might not come back, and I was too. You can’t do that to me again.”

“I owe it to Mrs. Copeland. I—she hired me.”

“Your whole life, you’ve been happy to quit when something gets hard. So quit now.”

“I tried. I couldn’t. I promise, I’m as surprised as you.”

I withdrew my arm from the depths of the corset rack. I stared at the wall, and I stared at my hand, and I tried not to look at Hellida pleading with me to leave.

“There’s a door back there,” I said. “I can’t reach it. We’ll have to move this rack.”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you say.”