Murder Is Come Again by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online

knew something of value was hidden there? It’s possible, but of course she’ll deny it. I’ll go along with you.”
    “I was going to ask you to go for me. I want to keep looking for Mary.”
    “How? I don’t see where you can even start.”
    “I’ll start at the Albemarle. That’s a decent hotel. It’s not the sort of place would take letters for folks they don’t know. That clerk knows more than he told me.”
    “He’ll never admit it,” Black scoffed. “It would cost him his job.”
    “He agreed to do it for money. He’ll tell me for the same reason.”
    “You could be right,” Black said. “I’ll hire a hackney.”
    “Take the curricle. It’s faster. Just drop me at the Albemarle and we’ll roast two birds with one stone.”
    Prance would have called him to account for that mangled metaphor, but Black was not so demanding. “As you like,” he said.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Black had no trouble finding the tourist shop where Flora worked, but he had no lever to pry the information he wanted out of her. He was at a disadvantage, not knowing what was going on, or whether she was actually involved. Vague intimidation was the best he could come up with.
    Flora was there behind the counter, straightening a collection of cheap pottery reproductions of the Prince’s pavilion. She looked up when he entered. When she recognized him she gave a guilty start. “Why if it isn’t Mr. Pattle’s friend. Does he want to hire me after all?” she asked in a breathless voice.
    He ignored her question. “His house was broken into and searched last night. You wouldn’t know anything about that, I suppose?” he asked with awful irony.
    “Me?” she said, recovering and putting on a good imitation of outraged innocence. “If he’d hired me like I wanted, this wouldn’t have happened. Whyever would I go and do a thing like that?”
    “P’raps you were looking for something,” he said with a knowing stare.
    She returned stare for stare. “What do you mean? Looking for what?”
    “I think you know what I mean, miss. You’ll not do it again if you know what’s good for you. And it wouldn’t do you any good anyhow.”
    “Why? Did he —” She came to a jerky stop, as if to prevent herself from saying something unwise. A pair of tourists came into the shop and began looking over the merchandise. Knowing she was no longer alone with Black bolstered Flora’s confidence. “Did you want to buy one of these pavilions?” she asked in a cool, polite voice.
    He couldn’t quiz her with customers present but he gave her one last menacing glare. “No, thank you. I don’t collect junk,” he said, and left. He felt sure Flora was the one who had searched the house, and that she had been looking for something valuable. But she hadn’t found it! “Did he find it?” was what she was going to say, but she caught herself in time.
    The discovery Coffen made at the Albemarle was far from cheerful news. He flipped a sovereign through his fingers as he questioned the clerk about Mrs. Filmore. “It’s pretty important that I find her, and in a hurry,” he said. “I’m hoping you can remember something that might help me.”
    The clerk watched the moving circle of gold like a fox watching the henhouse. “Now that you mention it, I believe she did ask me to forward any messages to a certain address,” he said. He looked up at Coffen, an eyebrow raised, then looked again at the coin.
    Coffen’s fingers closed around it. “It’s yours if you can remember it,” he said.
    Without further ado the clerk reached under the counter and drew out a piece of paper. “You’re in luck,” he said. “Most of the alleys in the Lanes don’t have names, but this one has. It’s Cherry Street, next to Morrison’s fish shop. He buys up what the hotels don’t want.” He even drew a little map.
    Coffen snatched the paper, flipped him the coin and left at a rapid gait, wondering why Mary had pretended she was staying at the