Gerald’s head turned swiftly toward Willis, Sr., and a look of startled pleasure crossed his face.
Bill coughed discreetly into his hand as Sally and her cloud of perfume passed between him and the couch. She walked with a sort of pert waddle and kept her hard eyes trained on Willis, Sr., whom she’d evidently identified as the alpha male in the room. His expression was as severe as a judge‘s, his elbows rested on the arms of his chair, and his hands were folded sternly over his immaculate waistcoat.
“I don’t recall seeing you before,” Sally said, a note of challenge in her voice.
“I am Gerald’s cousin,” Willis, Sr., informed her. “Do not delude yourself into thinking that this is a social occasion, however. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
Sally stopped short a few feet in front of Willis, Sr.’s chair.
“Gerald tells me,” Willis, Sr., continued, “that you are not a stupid woman. I assume, therefore, that you are aware of the fact that the penalties for extortion are extremely severe in this country.”
Sally poked her face forward and squinted. “And I assume that you don’t want your family’s dirty linen washed in public.”
“My family is quite capable of managing its household affairs,” Willis, Sr., said mildly. “But I can easily arrange for you to spend the next twenty to twenty-five years laundering linen, if that is what you prefer.” He pursed his lips and contemplated the ceiling. “To be frank, Dr. Flannery, it would give me so much pleasure to do so that I may arrange it without taking your personal preference into consideration.”
“Is that what you want, Gerald?” Sally folded her short arms across her bulging bosom and pivoted to face the couch. “Do you really want to destroy the firm? I’ve told you what it’ll do to your precious father.”
Willis, Sr., smiled indulgently, as though he were genuinely amused. “I would not put too much faith in your professional opinion, Dr. Flannery,” he said. “In truth, I would put no faith in it at all. Your record as a physician makes lamentable reading. I quite understand why you felt the need to ... supplement your income.”
Sally flushed. “That’s slander. There are laws against that as well in this country.”
“Are there? Oh dear.” Willis, Sr., clucked his tongue. “It seems I have made a fatal error. Perhaps we should call for an expert opinion.” He raised his voice. “Mrs. Burweed?”
Every head in the room turned to face the hall door as Mrs. Burweed returned, accompanied this time by a man of medium build with gray hair, glasses, and a small, neat mustache. He wore a navy-blue overcoat and carried a briefcase. He eyed Sally dispassionately and nodded to Willis, Sr.
Sally tossed her head. “I can afford my own solicitor, thanks very much.”
“I never doubted it,” said Willis, Sr. “This gentleman is not, however, a lawyer. Dr. Flannery, please permit me to introduce you to Chief Inspector Mappin, of Scotland Yard.”
Sally’s arms fell slowly to her sides as the color drained from her face.
“The chief inspector was kind enough to accept my invitation to join us this evening,” Willis, Sr., went on remorselessly. “He has generously offered to escort you back to London, Dr. Flannery. I am certain that he will be more than happy to answer any questions you might have regarding the laws in this country.”
Chief Inspector Mappin patted the briefcase. “I intend to ask a few questions, too.”
Sally the Slut thrust her chin forward and gave Willis, Sr., a poisonous glare. “I’ll see you in court.”
Willis, Sr., bowed graciously. “I look forward to it.”
“Come along ... Doctor.” Chief Inspector Mappin stood aside as Sally waddled past him, then followed her into the hallway. Mrs. Burweed, fanning her hand in front of her face, closed the door behind them, and for a few minutes the back parlor was filled with the deafening roar of stupefied silence.
“Fresh air, I think.” Willis, Sr., started to get up from the couch, but I was too quick for him. I scrambled to my feet, planted my hand on his shoulder, and escorted him back to his original armchair.
“Don’t move,” I commanded. I glanced over my shoulder. “Nell, would you please open the French doors? The room does need an airing, but William’s not going anywhere.” My eyes narrowed as I resumed my place on the arm of Bill’s chair. “He’s going to stay where he is until he and Gerald have told us everything.”
Nell scooted over to throw open the French doors, and the cool night air flooded in, cleansing the back parlor of Sally’s malevolent presence as well as her fragrance. As Nell returned to sit on the footstool near the hearth, I felt a heady sense of release, as though Willis, Sr., had broken the spell of a wicked sorceress. Gerald’s face held a curious mixture of relief and anxiety; he looked glad to be out from under Sally’s thumb, but worried about the consequences.