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ARCHIBALD BARKED. HE barked and barked and barked.
“Archibald,” Cora exclaimed, blinking into the bright light of the morning sun.
Was she late? Perhaps he was craving his morning walk. Cora scrambled from her bed and rubbed sleep from her eyes.
“Archibald,” she scolded. “No barking. It’s not polite. And we have neighbors. I’m lucky they’re even letting us live here. Most people don’t tolerate dogs in apartments.”
A small voice in her told her there was perhaps a good reason why dogs weren’t tolerated in apartments, but she didn’t want to dwell on that now.
Archibald was mostly a good dog.
She supposed she may have slept longer than absolutely necessary. She’d arrived back late last night from the club, and she’d only managed to give Archibald a small walk to the square after she returned.
“One moment, Archibald,” she said, grabbing some clothes. “We’ll go outside soon. Don’t you worry.”
Archibald continued to bark. No doubt the words she used demanded a higher vocabulary than that which he possessed.
She sighed. “See? I’m dressed now. You can calm down.”
Archibald did not calm down and he pawed against a piece of paper near the door.
Cora froze.
Why was there a piece of paper inside her apartment? Her heart beat more quickly, and she told herself she was overreacting. She bent down and noticed that entire newspaper words had been cut and pasted to the paper. She read the words: “No more questions.”
Cora stared at the paper.
There was nothing particularly bad about the phrase. It had no curse words and no threats to her life.
And yet, the note still sent a shiver throttling through her spine.
The words had been evidently cut from a newspaper. The font was slightly pretentious, even though the quality of paper had the same poor standards of any newspaper: thin, gray, and rough. She touched the ink, and it smeared slightly on her finger. She dropped it at once.
Perhaps she should show the paper to Randolph. Perhaps he might be able to determine who had sent the paper. Perhaps the perpetrator’s fingerprints were still on the page.
Archibald trotted toward her.
“Stop,” she whispered. “Sit.”
He did so obediently, though he tilted his head, as if surprised at her softer voice.
“I’m sorry I was cross,” she said, striving to sound soothing. “It’s good you showed me.”
She wished Archibald could tell her who left the paper. He probably had recognized the scent.
Had the murderer left the paper? Was it one of the people with whom she’d attended the club last night?
But she’d also asked questions of Miss Greensbody. Had it been her?
If only she’d paid more attention when Archibald had barked. Perhaps then she could have discovered who had left the note. She bent down and ruffled his coat. “You tried. Let’s go for a walk.”
Archibald wagged his tail, evidently finding that plan agreeable.
Cora gritted her teeth together.
They’d all pretended not to know Mr. Tehrani.
They couldn’t all not know him.
Someone had murdered him. Someone had killed him.
And instead that person had likely just sipped martinis with her the night before last and pretended nothing was the matter.
She glanced at Bess’s door. Was she inside now? Her throat tightened, and she resisted the temptation to knock on Bess’s door. She had questions to ask her, but she didn’t want to be alone with her when she asked them.
Cora hurried down the stairs. She took Archibald on a short walk, but after they returned, she took on another walk. She cut across the square, even though she’d just encircled it, and she kept walking, even after she’d exited Bloomsbury.
Finally she reached Veronica’s hotel.
Her true friend.
She strode to the reception and after convincing the receptionist she was indeed who she said she was, she marched to Veronica’s room and knocked on the door.
“Gracious!” Veronica blinked. “I didn’t expect to see you, honey.”
Cora shifted from leg to leg. “I think I was just threatened.”
“You better come inside, honey.”
Cora nodded and moved past her friend. Gilded furniture sparkled, enhanced by a fire burning in the fireplace.
“And we’ll need fortifications, honey.” Veronica turned and rang the bell. A maid appeared quickly. “Two mimosas.”
The maid nodded, and Veronica turned back to Cora. “Now what were you saying?”
“I’ll show you.” Cora opened her purse, conscious her hands were shaking. She removed the note with her gloved hand and showed it to Veronica.
Her friend bent down and scrutinized it, scrunching her nose. Finally she lifted her head. “Oh, that’s not very nice.”
“I didn’t think so.” Cora returned the note to her purse.
“Who do you think sent it?” Veronica asked.
“It could have been any of them. I mean, Lionel and Rollo don’t have a connection with Mr. Tehrani. But Miss Greensbody and Bess do.”
“Bess?” Veronica looked up sharply.
Cora nodded. “I went to Mr. Tehrani’s hotel room. He had a photograph of her in his blazer.”
“She did seem quite shaken when she learned about his death last night,” Veronica remarked.
Cora nodded. Veronica was right.
The maid arrived with their drinks, and Cora turned the conversation to something that the maid would find more innocuous, should she overhear.
“I think Rollo is keen on Bess,” Cora said.
Veronica laughed. “Honey, Rollo is very keen on her. And his cousin did not like it.”
“You think his cousin fancies her himself?”
Veronica shrugged. “Though he did seem the disagreeable sort, and it’s difficult to imagine him liking anything. Well, anything except alcohol. The poor thing was quite out of sorts when we visited him.” Veronica giggled and took another sip of her mimosa.
“Did they notice when the police constables arrived?” Cora asked.
Veronica laughed. “Oh, everyone noticed. It was quite scandalous. Even though your father did carry on quite well after the intermission.”
“Oh.”
“What you should consider,” Veronica said, “is to have a proper investigation.”
Cora crossed her arms. “I’m not taking this to the police. They’ll only want to suspect my father. I’ll tell them about it when I have some genuine leads.”
“Honey, I wouldn’t dream of bringing them into it. So much bureaucracy.” She shuddered. “What would the Gal Detective do?”
Cora blinked. “She would search their apartments.”
Veronica nodded. “Exactly.”
“I could see if I can find a newspaper that matches the font used in this note.”
“Precisely honey,” Veronica said, giving a pleased smile. “Though I wouldn’t recommend you bring Archibald. He’s far too liable to start barking.”
“Maybe I might even find the jewels,” Cora said.
“And then you will have found the murderer.” Veronica waved her hand. “And then you can call that awful man in the brown trench coat who insisted on interviewing your poor dear father.”