“Does it matter, Miss Winter?”
His look told me it was a foolish question, which made me angry. “I never agreed to be followed day and night,” I said, thinking about where I’d been the night before. Had George Sutter’s man been watching? Had he seen James? “Besides, I don’t understand. If you have enough manpower at your fingertips to follow a woman through the tube, then why do you need me in this investigation at all?”
The waiter returned with our order, and Sutter didn’t answer. I could see little of Gloria in his smooth, impassive face—a little in the eyes, perhaps, but he had none of her sensual openness. He looked older than she ever had, older than she would ever now grow to be.
“I didn’t intend to anger you,” he said when we were alone again. “I wanted to speak with you privately, and I didn’t think you’d agree to see me. I prefer to speak in person rather than over the telephone.” He sipped his coffee and put the cup down on the saucer with a soft click. “I did try to send you a letter.”
“Your letter was rude,” I informed him, still irked. “My reply was warranted. I hope you don’t often have to charm people in MI5.”
“I have never told you I work for MI5.”
No, that had been James Hawley’s idea. “Then who do you work for?”
Sutter’s demeanor didn’t crack. “You can parry me all you like, Miss Winter, but it doesn’t change the fact that I require a progress report. You’ve accepted my fee and, according to my sources, you’ve been investigating. What have you found?”
I set down my tea. He was infuriating and I didn’t quite trust him, but I reminded myself that he wanted the same thing I did: to find Gloria’s killer. Still, I took a bite of my scone and made him wait before I answered. “There isn’t much yet,” I admitted. “I’ve talked to Gloria’s assistant, Davies. The séance was the idea of Fitzroy Todd, who talked Gloria into it.”
Sutter nodded, sipping his coffee. “Go on.”
“Fitzroy says the idea was the clients’—that is, Mr. and Mrs. Dubbs. They offered him money to get Gloria to agree to the séance. Fitzroy always needs money, so he took it.”
“That isn’t in Scotland Yard’s reports,” Sutter said. “The money, that is.”
“No, it wouldn’t be. Fitzroy didn’t tell them. He probably thinks it paints him as a suspect, and he’s out to save his own skin.”
“And is he, in your opinion?” Sutter asked. “Is he a suspect?”
“I don’t know. Fitzroy is without use, but he isn’t violent. He could have done it, however. He was there, and I believe he’s strong enough.”
Sutter thought this over. “Go on,” he said again.
“I spent last night with Ramona, the spirit medium.” I didn’t bother mentioning what exactly had happened at the séance. “She’s a fraud, and she was an opportunist trying to latch onto Gloria, but I think she knows more than she’s telling me.”
Sutter evinced no emotion, but his gaze fixed on me and did not waver. “What exactly do you think she knows?”
I shook my head. It was a feeling I had—she had been so strange, so angry, and she had known so much about Gloria and me. But mostly it was the look in her eyes when she’d stopped me at her door. “She was afraid,” I said. “Terrified.”
“The police questioned her,” Sutter said. “She had nothing useful to say. It seems a great many people are lying to the police in this investigation. Which is why I need you.”
“I’ll try talking to her again,” I said. “Perhaps she’ll be more reasonable in daylight.” And after she’d had her fix for the day.
“If she was jealous of Gloria, don’t you think that would be a motive for murder?”
I looked at Sutter. He was watching me carefully, as always, his features humorless and still. “Perhaps,” I said. “But Ramona isn’t stupid, only desperate. She would be better served to use the occasion to steal Gloria’s clients, rather than risking murder.” I crumbled a piece of scone in my fingers, thinking. “Besides, Ramona is a drug addict. Her brain is addled most of the time, and she isn’t particularly healthy. I’m not sure she’s strong enough to subdue Gloria and carry her to the water. And I think a drug addict would commit a crime of opportunity, not something carefully planned.”
Sutter’s eyes gleamed. “You’re saying this was planned?”
I nodded, relieved to speak the thoughts that had gone around in my mind all night. “I’m starting to think it. I don’t have proof. But the more I look at this, the more it seems to me that Gloria was lured and set up. Someone didn’t just happen by and kill her. Someone quite deliberately, I think, wanted her dead.”
Sutter looked out the window at the busy street for a long moment, his coffee cooling in its cup. “Well,” he said finally. “That is very well-done, Miss Winter. You did almost as well as Scotland Yard.”
I leaned toward him. “What have they found?”
“I’ll admit they’ve surprised me.” Sutter uncrossed and recrossed his legs, frowning. “The inspector there, Merriken, is smarter than I gave the Yard credit for. I have the impression that nothing much gets past him.”
“He’s asked to see me,” I said.
Sutter nodded. “He has noted that he wants to question you.”
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Am I a suspect?” I asked him. “Your information must say something.”
“The problem with Gloria’s murder is that there are too many suspects to choose from, not too few. Her life was full of shady characters, rivals, former lovers, and frauds. And those are only the people we know about.”
“You forgot clients,” I said. “Gloria’s client list was supposedly powerful. It was certainly top secret. Any one of those people could have had her killed.”