Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)

 

 

Darcy shook his head. “I already told you that a man like Sir Toby wouldn’t do his own dirty work. He’d have hired someone.”

 

“Could he risk hiring someone?”

 

“I expect he has a loyal underling who has done unpleasant jobs before and is well paid for his silence,” Darcy said. “It’s strange how powerful men think they are untouchable.”

 

“I wonder why he didn’t have someone try to break in here to retrieve the evidence from the safe,” I said, staring down at that snapshot.

 

“She probably made him think the evidence was in a bank vault or somewhere equally untouchable. In that bank in Switzerland, maybe.”

 

I leafed through other photographs and letters. I came across a picture of Bobo in a bathing suit, sitting on a yacht with Prince George. He had his arm around her shoulder and they were both holding cocktail glasses. “Surely she couldn’t have tried to blackmail him?” I asked.

 

Darcy stared down at it. “I suppose it’s possible if she was ruthless enough.”

 

“Oh dear. That’s exactly what the royal family feared,” I said. “Now he’ll seem to be a suspect again.”

 

“The only thing against that is that he would never have dumped her body outside the very place where his bride-to-be was staying. Even good old George wouldn’t be that stupid or that insensitive.”

 

“That’s true.” I felt a little better. I liked George. I liked Marina. I didn’t want this complication to blight their marriage and I certainly didn’t want to believe that George could be a killer. “The person who did this wanted us to jump to the conclusion that it was Prince George and thus divert suspicion from himself,” I said at last. I leafed through more photographs. Faces seemed familiar but only vaguely, the way one recognizes distant acquaintances at parties.

 

“We should close the safe and go,” I said. “William will get suspicious if we stay up here too long.”

 

Darcy closed it, then took out his handkerchief and wiped it free of fingerprints. “Can’t be too careful,” he said, grinning. He put back the picture, then looked around the room. “It seems an awful shame to waste the one time we’re quite alone and won’t be interrupted,” he said.

 

“Darcy O’Mara,” I replied indignantly, “if you think I’m going to allow any hanky-panky in a room where you’ve been with another woman, you can think again.”

 

He chuckled. “I wasn’t suggesting a full-blown roll in the hay, but a little kiss and cuddle would be nice.”

 

“I’ve nothing against a kiss and a cuddle,” I said, slipping my arms around his neck, “just as long as you don’t get carried away.”

 

“I’m not the only one who gets carried away,” he said. “I think you can be quite a hot little piece at times, young woman. But you’re wasting time talking.” And he shut me up very effectively. His kisses were as wonderful as ever and I felt desire welling up in the pit of my stomach. I did want him, badly, and I think I would not only have given in, but even encouraged him at that moment, had it not been for the glimpse of his dressing gown hanging behind Bobo’s door. I pushed away from him. “We should go,” I said. “I don’t feel comfortable here. Whatever Bobo did, however she lived, you liked her enough once to make love to her, and she didn’t deserve to die.”

 

Darcy nodded solemnly and we left the flat, closing the door behind us. In the lift on the way down, Darcy had the foresight to tuck the evidence inside his greatcoat.

 

“Any luck, Mr. O’Mara?” William asked. “Find anything?”

 

“Nothing at all, William, except for an old dressing gown,” Darcy said. “Tell me, when did you see Miss Carrington last?”

 

“Let me see. It would have been four days ago,” William said, frowning as he tried to remember. “That’s right. Sunday, I think it was.”

 

“Did she say where she was going? Did she have a suitcase with her?”

 

“No, the last time I saw her it was just like any other evening. She was dressed to go out, evening gown, long fur coat. I asked her if she wanted a taxicab but she said she was meeting someone, and off she went toward Park Lane. Of course, Frederick might have seen her since then.”

 

“Thank you, William,” Darcy said. “My best regards to your family.”

 

“We hope to see you again soon, Mr. O’Mara,” William said. “When this nasty old business is taken care of, whatever it turns out to be.”

 

How sad, I thought. Nobody knew that Bobo was dead and would not be coming back to her flat. Darcy hailed a taxicab and took me back to Kensington. I invited him to join us for dinner but he said he had better get straight back to Sir Jeremy so they could put together a plan of action. I wished he might have included me, but I understood that he couldn’t. And I regretted not going with him even more so when I found out that Marina was dining with her parents at the Dorchester and my dinner companion was Countess Irmtraut.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 29