had returned to him and held it to his nose with an elated expression. Then he looked full at her, eyes ablaze with laughter. ‘My handkerchief never had this nice little stitched edge, my lady. Whatever you did with the stained one, this one is brand new.’
Alkmene jumped to her feet to strike at him, but he was already on his feet, thrusting the offensive article back into his pocket. ‘I knew you could not launder.’
‘So what?’ she called after him as he made for the door. ‘I do know how to trick policemen into looking for missing dogs so you could have information out of Constable Gordon.’
Jake’s laughter floated back at her. She heard the front door open. She ran to the door and halted in the frame, looking at his tall figure outlined against the streetlights outside. She wished he had stayed a little longer. The evening was still young, and On Rigor Mortis was a poor companion.
Jake turned his head to her. For a moment his eyes were serious, almost carrying a hint of regret. Then he said, ‘Metropolitan hotel at ten. Where we can see a tragic heiress have breakfast and perhaps ruffle a feather or two.’
A group of guests was set to leave when they came in, porters carrying out the heavy leather suitcases to put into the waiting cars. A tall woman with white fur casually draped round her shoulders descended the steps with the grace of a duchess, casting an interested look at Jake from under her blackened lashes.
Alkmene had sat at her own dressing table this morning studying her face and wondering if it needed more than just the little mascara she put on her lashes and the little red she dabbed to her lips. Evelyn Steinbeck would of course size her up, and she fully intended to be a match for the American heiress.
She sailed ahead of Jake, past the elevators where a boy in the hotel’s red uniform with gold buttons was waiting to assist. The doors into the breakfast room were open, and a maid passed them with a tray full of cappuccino cups. Jake asked her to bring them two as well and took a table with full view of the windows and the lone heiress, studying the view with a lost look on her face.
She looked younger than she had done the night Alkmene had met her. Like the tragedy had stripped away some of her high society veneer, leaving her exposed.
Jake kicked her under the table. Alkmene looked at him, then as he winked, she rose and walked over, her most surprised expression in place. ‘Excuse me… Did we not meet recently? Yes, you were so busy adjusting the screen so it didn’t fall on the table with all the crystal glasses. You saved us from disaster then. I don’t think we were properly introduced at the time. Alkmene Callender.’ She added almost as an afterthought, ‘Lady Alkmene.’
Evelyn Steinbeck’s blank expression changed at once to excitement. ‘Oh, I remember. Please do sit down.’ She gestured at the empty seat across from her.
Alkmene said, ‘I am here with a friend. Do you mind if he joins us too?’ She nodded subtly in the direction of Jake Dubois.
Evelyn Steinbeck looked. Her eyes lit. ‘Not at all. Yoo-hoo!’ Her piercing voice drew all eyes to her. She waved ecstatically at Jake. ‘Come on over!’
Cringing, Alkmene lowered herself into the seat. Jake approached and shook hands with Evelyn, introducing himself as Dubois, journalist.
‘Mr Dubois is looking into a sea disaster,’ Alkmene said quickly. ‘Hair-raising, when you hear the details. You came here by boat too, I assume?’
‘Yes. There was such a strong wind during part of the journey. Terrifying.’
‘Your first time away from home?’ Dubois ventured. ‘You must have felt quite lost on the ship.’
‘I wasn’t alone.’ Evelyn fell silent as if she had already said too much. She added quickly, ‘My uncle had sent someone to accompany me.’
Alkmene glanced at Jake. That person would have to make the journey twice. Expensive, not to say extravagant. Why had Norwhich not simply written to his niece and arranged for the crossing? Evelyn wasn’t a child who couldn’t be left alone on a boat.
She asked, ‘Anyone I might know?’
Evelyn flushed a little. ‘I do not think we move in the same circles.’
Suddenly her American accent was less thick and her tone just a little vicious.
Alkmene felt Jake’s shoe press down onto the tip of her own. She moved the toe up against his sole to signal she had caught the change too. She kept smiling at the bereaved heiress. ‘So nice to meet you here. I had no idea you were staying in a hotel. At the party you mentioned – ’
‘My uncle died.’ Evelyn sounded curt. ‘As it happened in that house, I had no intention of staying there any longer than necessary. I am staying here, at his expense, I mean, of the estate, until it is all settled. Then I will go back home.’
‘Oh, you inherit? I think I heard he had a son.’
Alkmene had just intended to make conversation, but the word ‘son’ caused a real explosion in the heiress’s composure. She jumped to her feet and yelled, ‘That is a mean accusation. Nothing of it is true, you hear.’
The waiter, who was just approaching with their coffee, struggled not to drop the silver tray.
Jake said coldly, ‘So you are aware of the talk going round that you are not the heir to his fortune and you even know it?’
Evelyn Steinbeck stared at him with wide eyes as if he was an adder appearing from under her table. She gestured at the waiter. ‘I want these people removed from here. They are bothering me, threatening me.’
Her voice grew into a frantic wail. ‘Help, I want the police.’
Alkmene looked at Jake. Perhaps it was better if they left before this woman turned it all into a big scene. Her father would certainly not appreciate talk among his friends about the police removing his daughter from a decent establishment.
‘I want the police,’ Evelyn Steinbeck snapped to the waiter, who stepped back, nodded and vanished, with their coffee, apparently to look for an officer in the street.
Alkmene cleared her throat. ‘I think we could uh…’
Jake leaned back in his chair as if he was just discussing the weather here. ‘You want the police, fine with me.’ He studied the heiress with cold eyes. ‘I bet they will be very interested in that gold locket with the initials FW under your pillow in the room upstairs.’
Evelyn Steinbeck’s black-rimmed eyes grew huge. She spluttered, ‘How do you know…’
Jake crossed his legs over one another and studied his fingernails. ‘I know much more and I can’t wait to tell it all. Not just to the police, you know, but in a nice exposé in the papers. Certain elements always tickle the public fancy. Beautiful woman…’ he cast her a look ‘…tragic death, fortune at stake.’
‘Mistaken identity,’ Alkmene added.
Her heart was pounding, but she understood what Jake was doing here. They had to bluff their way out of it, force Evelyn Steinbeck into a confession. Once the police had appeared to ask them to leave, there would certainly not be a second chance to get at her.
Evelyn Steinbeck stared, her mouth opening and shutting.
‘Personally,’ Jake said, ‘I would rather write about something more serious than wills and lost heirs, you know, but the public just can’t get enough of it. And as my editor does want to sell newspapers, I have no choice but to oblige him. If I want to keep my job that is.’
‘How much?’ Evelyn hissed.
‘Excuse me?’
‘How much to shut up about it? I am sure I can pay you more than your lousy editor can. I can even get you a job in New York City. Would you not like to go there? Have