No Mark Upon Her

she already had them, she asked for the painting of the red horse that hung over her mother’s desk.”
    “That’s not one of Sandra’s?”
    “No. In fact, it’s signed LR, and Duncan said he saw a painting that was almost identical hanging over Lucas Ritchie’s desk in the club in Artillery Lane.”
    “Ah, so you think it was done by the delectable Mr. Ritchie?”
    “Maybe. It would be a nice connection for Charlotte to have with her mother’s old friend. Someday we’ll have to ask him.”
    “I’ll go with you,” Melody offered, and Gemma laughed.
    “I didn’t realize you fancied him,” she said. Lucas Ritchie managed a private club in Whitechapel, but had gone to art college with Charlotte’s mum. He was also tall, blond, wickedly good-looking, and apparently quite well off.
    “I’m female. I’m not attached. And I’m not blind.” Melody took a big swallow of wine to punctuate her assertions, coughed, and wiped at her watering eyes.
    “I can see that,” Gemma said, still grinning. “What I don’t know is what you were doing with Doug Cullen today.”
    “Ah.” Melody was beginning to look slightly owlish. “He invited me to see his new house. In Putney. It needs some DIY. And I’ve offered to help him with the garden.”
    Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Gemma asked, “Have you ever done any gardening?” Melody, as far as she knew, had grown up in a town house in Kensington, in a household that lacked for nothing. If it had had a garden, it would have come with gardener attached.
    “No. But it should be an adventure.”
    Gemma looked at her friend, bemused. She could imagine few things more unlikely than Doug Cullen doing home improvements while Melody mucked about in the garden. “You must be desperate for excitement.”
    “I keep telling you, work hasn’t been the same with you gone, boss,” Melody retorted. “And speaking of the job”—she straightened up rather carefully and set her now-empty glass on the table—“there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve put in for my sergeant’s course.”
    “Oh.” Gemma felt an unexpected prick of loss. Not that she hadn’t nagged Melody to go for promotion. Not that she’d expected Melody to stay at Notting Hill forever. But promotion would undoubtedly mean Melody would transfer to another station, if not another division, and Gemma realized how much she’d looked forward to working with Melody at Notting Hill again.
    Seeing the disappointment on Melody’s face, she pulled herself together and summoned a smile. “Oh, congratulations, Melody. I’m so glad for you. You should have done it ages ago. And you know you’ll do just fine on the exam.”
    “I’ve liked working with Sapphire,” Melody said, sounding relieved at Gemma’s approval. “I suppose before you went on leave, I’d been riding on your coattails, and the new job gave me a bit of confidence.”
    It was always hard for Gemma to imagine that the daughter of one of the biggest newspaper barons in the country could lack confidence. But Melody had gone against her father’s wishes in even joining the force, and Gemma knew that this decision would have been difficult for her.
    “This business today, in Henley,” Melody said, “will it interfere with your starting back next week?”
    “Oh, I’m sure we can work out something, if it’s not sorted by then,” Gemma told her, but in fact she’d been worrying all evening about alternative child care if Duncan were to get hung up on this case. They couldn’t count on their friend Wesley Howard, who sometimes nannied for them, for full-time child-minding, and if anything, the events of the day had made her more certain than ever that Charlotte wasn’t ready for nursery school.
    “What about the girl who used to be her nanny?” Melody suggested. “Have you kept up with her?”
    “Alia?” Gemma frowned, considering a possibility that hadn’t occurred to her. “She’s been to visit a couple of times, and Charlotte is always pleased to see her. Maybe I should give her a ring, just in case . . .”
    “Maybe they’ll find the death in Henley was accidental, and Duncan will be off the hook.”
    Remembering Rashid’s expression when he was examining the body, Gemma thought she wouldn’t hold her breath. Rashid Kaleem was a good pathologist, and she trusted his instincts. And she was still wondering why Denis Childs had been so insistent that Duncan look into the death. There were other