Part 279 (2/2)

best that the business that had brought him to London remain his for a

while longer. He found his British counterparts polite and tidy. He

also discovered that British red tape was every bit as convoluted as

American.

It took him two hours to be told he would have to come back the next day

for a look at the files.

It was time well spent. Emma was thrilled at the opportunity to show

him London, steering him from the Tower to Piccadilly, to the changing

of the guards to Westminster Abbey. Though he'd been easily persuaded

to stay in the McAvoys' home, he'd kept his hotel room. After the

frantic tour, they spent hours in bed.

The files were little help to him. A standard investigation had

ultimately ruled death by misadventure. Forensics had turned up no

prints other than Jane's, her former maid's, and those of the dealer who

had found the body. Both his and the maid's alibis were airtight. The

neighbors had nothing good to say about the deceased, but they hadn't

seen anything or anyone on the night of her death.

Michael skimmed through the police photographs. And people called him a

slob, he mused as he studied the filth in which Jane had lived and died.

Frustrated that the scene had long since been cleaned out, he went over

the pictures again with a magnifying gla.s.s.

Inspector Carlson, who had been in charge of the Palmer investigation,

looked on patiently.

”It was a bit of a sty,” he pointed out. ”Th be frank, I've never seen

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