TWENTY-NINE

The interior of the drawing room never failed to amuse Adam. It was lush, overwrought and extravagant beyond belief. The decorator had obviously felt free to cast aside the restraints of good taste in favor of dramatic impact.

Red was the predominant color. The massive sofa and chairs were upholstered in crimson silk. Vermilion velvet draperies pooled on the floors in front of the windows. The carpet was patterned in scarlet and gold.

As was the case in so many homes across the breadth and width of the nation, a large, ornately framed photograph of the queen, dressed in her perpetual mourning, hung in a place of importance over the hearth. But the theme of the other pictures that cluttered the walls was quite different. Every painting featured a bold knight in gleaming armor who was in the process of rescuing—or being rescued by—a lovely woman clad only in the filmiest of clothing.

Florence Stotley was very fond of chivalric motifs.

Florence was a pleasantly plump, gray-haired woman who was rapidly approaching her sixth decade. With her warm, bright eyes, dimpled features and charming eccentricities, she could have been mistaken for someone's beloved grandmother or doting great-aunt. Few would believe that she had made her fortune as the proprietor of one of London 's most exclusive brothels.

She was officially retired now, but she continued to employ her entrepreneurial talents in a variety of profitable ways. Any number of people had underestimated Florence Stotley over the years, Adam reflected. But he had known her since his days on the street, and he had nothing but the most profound respect for her.

In a sense, they were business associates, but the focus of their interests varied slightly. While he concerned himself with the affairs of those in Society these days, Florence continued to steep herself in the murky activities of those who operated in London's underworld.

It was not uncommon for one of them to call upon the other for assistance. After all, the doings of the rich and powerful in Society intersected with the business activities of their counterparts in the city's less legitimate spheres far more frequently than most people wished to acknowledge.

"How delightful to see you again, Adam." Florence poured tea from a fanciful silver pot designed to resemble a flamboyant dragon. "It has been some time since we last visited. All is well with Julia and the children, I trust?"

"They are happy and in excellent health, thank you." Adam settled into a large wingback chair and stretched out his legs. "At the moment, my sister is busily engaged in the task of outdoing herself with another memorable ball."

"I'm sure she will produce a spectacular event this year." Florence chuckled and handed him a cup of tea. "The talk of her great success with the Camelot theme last spring went on for weeks after the event"

"She was greatly indebted to you for the inspiration." He examined the delicately rendered illustrations of scenes of the Round Table on his cup. "New china, I see."

"Yes. I am pleased with it" Florence arranged her skirts and looked expectant. "Now, then, I am always delighted to have you call, Adam, as you well know. I did get your message asking for assistance in locating the medium's missing housekeeper and I assure you I am making inquiries, but thus far I have not had any luck."

"If anyone can find Bess Whaley, it will be you, Florence. I have complete confidence in your sources. But as it happens, I am here on another matter tonight. I did not want to send a message in this instance. Thought it should be handled personally."

Florence nodded. "I understand. What is this other item of business?"

"I wish to convey a message to that old forger Bassingthorpe. At one time he was a client of yours. Are you still in touch?"

Florence smiled fondly. "Of course. He is a friend as well as a former customer. I will let him know that you would like to speak with him"

"Thank you."

"Is that all?"

"For now," Adam said.

Florence poured more tea. "Very odd, this affair of the murdered mediums. There are rumors going about that both were killed by dark forces from the spirit world that they accidentally set loose"

"I assure you that whoever murdered those two came from this world."

"May I ask what your interest is in this matter?" "Do you remember Maud Gatley?"

"Yes. Such a sad situation." Florence shook her head. "The poor woman never succeeded in getting free of her addiction. I know how much you tried to help her, Adam. You paid for so many cures and they all failed."

"The opium was always stronger than her will," he said. "It seems that she kept a diary that she left to Elizabeth Delmont. Delmont tried to use it to blackmail me. But it disappeared the night she was murdered. And now Irene Toller is dead in a similar fashion."

"Ah. That explains a great deal. Maud knew the truth about you and Julia and Jessica and Nathan, didn't she?"

He nodded. "The man who appears to have been involved in the fraudulent investment scheme that Mrs. Toller and Mrs. Delmont operated is said to walk with a severe limp. The witnesses tell me that he is heavily whiskered and wears gold-rimmed glasses."

"You suspect those are attributes of a disguise?" "They are all too obvious and memorable."

"I agree." She frowned. "But if he now possesses the diary, I wonder why he has not yet contacted you to attempt blackmail."

"Biding his time, I expect"

"I do not blame him," she said dryly. "If he knows any-thing at all about you, it will be plain to him that he must be exceedingly careful. He must know that if he makes a mistake and gives himself away, you will find him and that will be the end"

Adam looked at her. "I will find him. It is only a matter of time."

"I am aware of that. I have known you since you were a boy, Adam. You are relentless. But I urge you to be extremely cautious. Two people have been murdered in this affair?

"I appreciate your concern." He reflected briefly on Florence's extensive connections throughout every level of society. "I find myself involved in the world of psychical research these days. Can you tell me anything about the crowd at Wintersett House that might be useful?"

"Not a great deal. Psychical researchers, in general, strike me as misguided but relatively harmless." She paused, thinking for a moment. "I have heard that Mr. Reed, the president of the Society for Psychical Investigations, is a grieving widower who dreams of someday contacting the spirit of his dead wife."

"What happened to her?"

"She was murdered several years ago. I do not recall all of the details, although it created quite a sensation in the press for a time. I believe Mrs. Reed's body was found in a park a short distance from the couple's home. Evidently she went for a stroll a day or so after the wedding and was attacked. The reports claimed that she was raped and strangled."

"Did the police find her killer?"

"No." Florence drank some tea and lowered her cup. "Perhaps that is one of the reasons why Durward Reed is so determined to contact her. He no doubt wants to ask her the name of the villain who murdered her so that he can bring the man to justice."

"I would have chosen a more direct approach to finding the killer," Adam said.

"Yes, of course. But not everyone has your connections and few are as comfortable with the thought of violence as you are"

He let that pass. "I wonder what makes Reed believe that he can contact her."

Florence 's brows rose. "Perhaps he is convinced that she can be reached on the Other Side because she claimed to possess psychical powers while she was on this side. He no doubt reasons that if any spirit can make contact through the veil, it will be one who had a gift for doing so while she was alive."