“Yes. I have the names of the firms you are working with.”
King nodded.
“So the night in question,” Thompson reminded him.
“Of course. Lourdes followed me to Devonshire House, where I was attending a party. She called herself my wife, and they allowed her in. I didn’t expect her to be there, and a fight ensued.” He nodded at Ford. “Ford was there as well.”
“Oh yes?” Thompson asked.
“That’s right. I saw Lourdes at Devonshire House. She was drunk and making a scene.”
Thompson made a note and then turned his attention back to King. “What was the row about?”
King shrugged his shoulders. “I ended our relationship before I left New York, and she was taking it badly. I knew nothing of her coming to London, so it was quite a shock.”
“Go on,” Thompson said.
“There were words. Thrown back and forth. I’m sorry for it now. I should have handled it better. I escorted her back to her hotel. An hour later, there was a note delivered saying she wanted to part as friends and asked that I come see her.” King looked into his teacup.
“Yes?” the in
spector prompted.
“I didn’t go,” King said firmly.
The room was silent except for the ticking of the mantel clock. “I regret that now. Perhaps had I gone, I might have saved her life.”
The inspector nodded. “Dastardly thing. To strangle a woman and then dump her in the alley. Obviously, some madman got to her. Most unfortunate.” He paused before continuing. “I’ll need you to come down and identify the body. It’s at the local morgue.”
King looked distraught while Ford watched the movements of the policemen. They were both cool and calm as they surveyed everything.
“Of course I will.” King nodded.
As the policemen were leaving, the inspector gave his card to Ford.
“If either of you remember anything else, let us know.”
Ford moved back into the parlor and saw that King was resting his head against the sofa.
“I didn’t want to involve you or the agency, Ford. It’s a mess, but it’s nothing that can’t be straightened out.”
Ford remembered when he had come upon King and Lourdes fighting in the hallway the previous night. She’d had too much to drink, and she was stumbling. They had put her in a bedroom, and then King had suddenly decided to take her home. That had been the truth. He had been there. But as to the rest of King’s tale, only he and Lourdes knew the real story. And Lourdes was dead.
“Well. It seems you have a visit to the morgue to make. I’ll leave you to it,” Ford said before bidding him good-bye.
23
Ford placed his hat on his head and went out into the gray London day. He thought back on what had happened the previous night at the ball. Lourdes had followed King to the party and had arrived after Ruby performed. King had never even seen Ruby that night, and Ford had only by accident in the upstairs parlor.
Lourdes and King had stayed less than a half hour, as it became quite apparent that she was drunk. She had swayed against King and offered herself to him in the hallway, which had been pathetic. Ford had been embarrassed for her.
He had offered to take Lourdes back to her hotel, but King had given him a hard look and grabbed her arm and flung her into an empty room before he decided to take her back himself. His eyes had been dark and empty as he stared at Lourdes.
I’ll handle this. I’ll get her home. Without making a scene, King had said.
King was a powerful man, and not one used to being crossed. What would a man like King do if suddenly a young woman was in the way of what he wanted?
A light drizzle fell from the sky. He walked along the street with the thought of Lourdes’s cold body lying in the morgue. Before he realized what he was doing, he had asked for directions and found himself walking in the direction of the morgue, though he had no idea what he would say or do once he was there.