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She hurried around the end of the counter and led the way into the rear of the old bookshop.
Before following her, Anthony glanced at the magazine she had been reading. The cover featured a lurid drawing of a dead woman lying at the foot of a flight of stone steps. The menacing figure of a man stood at the top of the steps, a knife dripping blood in one hand. The title read: A Complete History of the Dreadful Murder of Frances Hayes, a Prostitute.
He walked into the back room of the shop, taking his time, absorbing the feel of the place.
“I see you kept some of the previous owner’s books,” he said, looking at the cartons of old volumes stacked in the small space.
“Only a few left now. Pa sold most of them right after he took over the shop. In the first few days after the murder all sorts of odd people showed up on the doorstep wanting to buy the books.”
He looked at her. “What do you mean by odd?”
Ha
“And you were left with these volumes?” He motioned toward the cartons.
Ha
“Do you have a lot of customers for your tour?”
“Not nearly as many as we did in the first few months after the murder.” Ha
“A wise decision, no doubt. Tell me about the murder.”
Ha
“Where did you get the descriptions?” Anthony said.
Ha
“Of course. Please continue.”
“On the night of the dreadful event Joa
Ha
“How do you know that he knocked three times?” Anthony asked.
“It was their secret code.”
“If it was a secret code, how did you come to learn it?”
Ha
Anthony nodded. “Always a reliable source of information.”
Ha
“How do you know what she wore? Did you get that out of the sensation press accounts, too?”
“Pa says the customers like to hear the details,” Ha
“Very enterprising of you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ha
Anthony studied the lock. It was a relatively new model that had not been on the market long. What interested him were the marks in the wood around it. There were several grooves and gouges. He could see the outline of a previous, much larger device.
“Was this lock on the door at the time of the murder?” he asked.
“No, sir.” Ha
“Any idea how it got broken?”
Ha
“Never mind.”
Ha
“No, I doubt that he had any inkling of his fate,” Anthony agreed, studying the staircase.
“Come along, sir. I’ll show you their secret love nest.”
Ha
She did not go downstairs to open the door for him. She heard him smash the lock, and then she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
At the top of the narrow steps, Ha
“Furnished just as it was on the night of the murder, sir,” Ha
Anthony looked at the table. “I don’t see a glass. How do you know she gave him something to drink?”
“Drinking wine is the sort of thing lovers do together.”
Anthony nodded. “Should have thought of that.”
Ha
“Did you make up that bit, too?”
“It stands to reason that they argued, sir,” Ha
“An excellent question. Did anyone hear the shouting?”
Ha
“What was the quarrel about?”
“According to the reports in the press the quarrel came about because Lord Gavin told Miss Barclay that he was going to cast her aside in favor of another.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Ha
“Please continue.”
“Very well.” Ha
Anthony went to the doorway and pulled the curtain aside. There was a small dressing table and a wardrobe. The sheets and quilt on the narrow bed were pulled back and rumpled, presumably to indicate energetic lovemaking. There were some old, rusty brown stains on the carpet.
“After their last passionate embrace Lord Gavin fell asleep,” Ha
A demure white-lawn nightgown edged with dainty lace was draped across the lower portion of the bed.
“Did you replace the bedding?” he asked.
“No, sir. Everything in this room is guaranteed to be exactly as Pa found it when he opened the museum. I shake out the sheets and the nightgown once in a while and dust the furniture, but that’s all.”
Anthony walked to the bed and looked down. “There are no bloodstains on the sheets. Did you wash them out?”
“No, sir.” Ha
“Probably because they are on the carpet,” Anthony said mildly.
Ha