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THE STREETS AND PEOPLE blurred as she returned to her flat. Bess had known Mr. Tehrani. In fact, Bess had known Mr. Tehrani so well he’d carried a picture of her in his jacket pocket.
Had he snapped the photograph of her? Or had Bess given the photograph to him?
The photograph had been glossy, and the background had been neutral. It was the sort of photograph that might be taken at a studio, the sort of photograph only Bess could have given him.
Her heart tightened.
Perhaps Mr. Tehrani and Bess had known each other. That didn’t mean she’d tried to murder him.
But Bess’s room was opposite Cora’s.
She headed up the steps leading to the building and nearly bumped into someone. Cora gave a slight scream.
“Though the vivacious greeting is flattering, I don’t fancy the hint of terror,” a voice said. The voice was silky and smooth and sent a smile soaring up her lips.
She stepped back. “Randolph!”
“‘Tis I.” He grinned. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming. I had some spare time, and there’s no one with whom I would rather spend it.”
“How lovely,” she breathed.
“Now,” Randolph said, “how are you?”
Her smile wobbled, and Randolph’s eyes softened. “I’m quite happy to whisk you away from here.”
“There’s been...a lot,” she said. “The police came to visit Pop’s club last night. They insisted on interviewing him, even though he was performing.”
Randolph raised his eyebrows.
“Pop just called an impromptu intermission,” she said hastily. “It was fine.”
Except...
It hadn’t truly been fine.
If it had truly been fine, there would have been no police constables scattered in the audience.
If it had truly been fine, Vinny wouldn’t have implied the presence of the police was unwelcome.
If it had been truly been fine, the detective wouldn’t have questioned Pop at all.
“How did they connect Pop to the body so quickly?” Randolph asked.
She shrugged. “It seems Pop is not an expert at the disposing of bodies. He dropped the body off at a crematorium.”
Randolph raised his eyebrows.
“It seems the crematorium’s instinct on discovering the body at their doorstep was to call the police, rather than simply burn it,” Cora said.
Randolph smiled. “It was sensitive of him to leave it there rather than in the Thames for some poor child to discover and for some poor constables to haul up.”
“You sound like him,” Cora grumbled. “Unfortunately, some passersby remembered his vehicle, and even more unfortunately, they traced it back to him.”
“I suspect he has a nice car.”
“Yes, he likes the good life.” Cora hoped her voice didn’t sound bitter. When she looked up, Randolph was assessing her. Sympathy definitely seemed to be in his eyes.
Golly.
“Pop’s surrounded by a lot of burly Italian-Americans.”
“How odd,” Randolph said.
“And one of them told me he hoped any unfortunate incidents didn’t happen,” Cora continued, wincing at the memory.
“Perhaps he was saying he didn’t want your father to be arrested, in a collegial sentiment sort of way.”
“Perhaps,” Cora said, but Randolph must have heard the doubt in her voice, for he squeezed her hand.
“It will be fine,” he promised. “He probably didn’t mean he would cause anything unfortunate to happen to your father.”
Cora nodded. “I know.”
The thing was, she wasn’t entirely certain.
It was all very well acting confident when she didn’t want people to worry about her, but she’d spent long enough on sets to know that how one acted and how one felt were two entirely different things.
She raised her chin. The last thing she needed was to waste time dwelling on her worries. They were huge and gnawed at her with surprising consistency.
“Cheer up,” Randolph said. “If you’re worried, we can go to another one of your father’s performances tonight. You’ll see there’s nothing to be concerned about.”
We?
“You wouldn’t mind meeting my father?”
“Naturally not,” he said. “In fact, I’d quite like to meet him.”
“But he might think—”
Randolph raised his eyebrows, and Cora’s cheeks warmed.
“It’s just that,” she continued, “generally it’s considered a sign of being serious when a man meets a woman’s parents.”
“Is that so?” Randolph asked, with a smile.
Cora nodded. “I thought you should know.”
Randolph clasped her in his arms. “Cora, sweetheart, I am serious. You have a surprisingly thick skull for such a delicate creature.”
Cora tilted her head up. He was all strength and splendor. The light glinted over his tousled hair, and she reached up to touch it, still unused to the fact she could do this, that he was hers.
In the next moment their mouths met, and Cora’s thoughts quieted, indulging only in the sensation of Randolph’s lips, Randolph’s tongue and Randolph’s hands.
She pulled away. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything, sweetheart.” He tucked a lock behind her ear. “Particularly if you’re going to suggest a weekend break somewhere.”
She stepped away, and her cheeks flamed. “Er—right. I wanted to know if the policemen found Mr. Tehrani’s jewels.”
“His jewels?” For some reason, Randolph’s lips turned up. “You’re right that is a much less romantic contemplation.”
“I mean, obviously maybe you don’t have access to that sort of information. But if you did, it would be most helpful.”
“Normally it would be difficult for me to receive that. But since Mr. Tehrani was a foreigner, I suppose I could make inquiries. Some people in Britain worry that the Shah has too many financial links to Germany, though the main worry is their border with the Soviet Union.” Randolph pulled her closer to him, as if sensing her discomfort. “I’ll check,” he promised. “And then I’ll pick you up in my car, and I can meet your father. Good?”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” she murmured.
His eyes twinkled. “I’m rather an expert at making wonderful plans.”
“You’re an expert at many things.”
He winked. “That’s true too.”