The Body in Bloomsbury by Camilla Blythe

Author:Camilla Blythe [Blythe, Camilla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Camilla Blythe
Published: 2020-02-08T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CORA WASN’T THE ONLY one who seemed unsettled.

Some people murmured in the crowd, and Pop missed a note. This was uncharacteristic, and Cora frowned. His face seemed a trifle whiter than before, even under the glare of the spotlight, and a sour feeling hit Cora’s stomach that she wished could be attributed to the uncharacteristic second cocktail.

“I had no idea so many police constables like music,” Veronica mused. “They are quite adorable with their helmets. I suppose people are correct when they term London a cultured city.”

Cora swung her head around.

Veronica was right. There were about ten police constables in the room. Some leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and feet tapping, as if hoping to act. Others had found seats on the roundtables. They stared glumly at the stage, unabashed that their presence was causing the swankily attired guests at their table discomfort.

She hoped Pop had added a police constable act to the performance. Perhaps the men would stand up from their corners of the room and then proceed to the stage, Busby Berkeley style, into an intricate tap dance that would end with them hoisting Pop above them. Their blue helmets matched Pop’s blue suit far too much for Cora’s taste, but choreography and costume design had never been her father’s thing.

But no matter how much she hoped the men were part of the act, she couldn’t actually believe it.

These men hadn’t been here when she’d spoken with the coat check girl. They’d just arrived.

They must know.

She shifted on her chair. Pop had moved a body, and then the constables had found the body. They weren’t going to suspect anyone in the apartment. They were going to suspect him.

Her heart beat uncomfortably. Her dress seemed too tight, and the bodice seemed to dig into her chest, as if she’d accidentally put on a corset.

Pop’s gaze met hers. She could read the worry in his eyes. Her father wasn’t supposed to worry. That was an occupation he’d always said was for other people.

The song was going to end soon. Pop’s breath seemed to be longer, and the pianist slowed the tempo, confusion on his face. This wasn’t Pop’s moment of triumph in London.

Cora gritted her teeth. These men were ruining the act. They weren’t supposed to be here. If they wanted to ask questions, they could have done so before he got on stage for his performance.

Still, Mr. Tehrani’s body had just been discovered. They were already acting quickly in speaking with him. No doubt some witness had directed them at Pop. It was a pity his face was on so many billboards in London.

Finally, the song ended. Pop leaned toward the microphone. “We’ll take a short intermission. Grab a new drink. I know I want one.”

The pianist’s eyebrows rose, and Cora was certain there wasn’t supposed to be an intermission here.

She gazed as a man in a long brown trench coat approached the stage. The constables seemed to defer to him.

“Excuse me,” Cora said quickly and rose, nearly toppling her drink.

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