Sweet Revenge

I have a drink?”
    “Help yourself.” She bit the words off, then turned to stride into the bedroom. The wig was already hidden in a bag at the bottom of her suitcase. The money was tucked safely in her oversize shoulder bag. When a quick glance showed her nothing incriminating, Adrianne continued to pack.
    “It’s a pity you’re leaving so soon,” Philip said from the doorway. “You’ll miss all the excitement.”
    “Oh?” She folded a sweater with quick, competent movements that told him she was used to doing such things for herself and doing them often.
    “Perhaps you haven’t heard, there was a burglary last night.”
    She picked up another sweater without missing a beat. “No, really? Where?”
    “Madeline Moreau.”
    “Oh, God.” Properly shocked, Adrianne turned around. He was leaning against the doorjamb, a glass of what she assumed was whiskey in his hand. And he was watching her just a bit too closely. “Poor Madeline. What was taken?”
    “Her sapphire pendant,” he murmured. “Just the pendant.”
    “Just?” As if weak at the knees, she sank onto the bed. “Why, this is dreadful. To think we were all there at the Fumes’ a couple of days ago. And she was wearing it, too, wasn’t she?”
    “Yes.” He sipped again. She was good, he thought. She was damn good. “She was.”
    “She must be devastated. Should I call her, I wonder. Perhaps not. She may not want to speak to anyone.”
    “It’s kind of you to be concerned.”
    “Well, we have to stick together at times like this. I’m sure they were insured, but a woman’s jewelry is personal. I think I’ll get a drink myself, then you can tell me what you know.”
    When she moved by him into the sitting room, he took her seat on the bed. He wrinkled his nose as he sipped. The maid must have appalling taste in cologne, he thought as he caught a whiff of Rose. He noticed the leather miniskirt waiting to be packed. Not exactly Adrianne’s style, he mused, and wondered why he thought he’d seen it before.
    “Have the police any clues?” Adrianne asked as she came back in with a glass of iced vermouth.
    “I couldn’t say. Apparently, someone came in through the second-story window and cracked the safe in the master bedroom. It seems Madeline was off in the country. Coincidentally, at the same inn where we dined last night.”
    “You’re joking. Odd we didn’t see her.”
    “She’d come out later. On a wild goose chase, you might say. It seems the thief was clever enough to lure her out of the house with the promise of a romantic midnight supper with a secret admirer.”
    “Now I know you’re joking.” She smiled, then let her eyes sober when he didn’t respond. “How dreadful for her.”
    “And her ego.”
    “That too.” She shuddered delicately. “At least she wasn’t there when he broke in. She might have been murdered.”
    Philip sipped at his whiskey. It was smooth. Every bit as smooth as The Shadow. He couldn’t help admiring both. “I don’t think so.”
    She didn’t care for the way he said it, or the way he looked at her as he did. Adrianne set down her glass to continue her packing. “Did you say he took only one necklace? That’s strange, don’t you think? Certainly there’d be many valuables in Madeline’s safe.”
    “One has to assume the pendant was the only thing of interest.”
    “An eccentric thief?” She smiled and moved to thecloset. “Well, I’m terribly sorry for Madeline, but I’m sure the police will have him in a matter of days.”
    “Sooner or later, in any case.” He drained the whiskey. “They’re looking for a young man with a beard. It seems he talked his way into the flat with some business about exterminating mice. The Yard thinks he cased the place from inside, probably tampered with the alarm system so that either he or his accomplice could break in later.”
    “Complicated.” Adrianne tilted her head. “You seem to know a great deal about it.”
    “Connections.” He passed his empty glass from hand to hand. “One has to admire him.”
    “A thief? Why?”
    “Skill. Style. The ruse to get Madeline out of London showed creativity. Flair. I admire both.” He set the glass aside. “Did you sleep well last night, Adrianne?”
    She glanced over her shoulder. There was something in the question—rather, something under it. “Shouldn’t I have?”
    He held up the miniskirt, studying it with a frown. “I didn’t. Oddly enough, I took a walk, ended up