Chapter Thirty-OneSafe in his car, parked at the front end of the Back End's lot, Edgar Rowdey sighed.
He’d escaped from Roosevelt Sherman as fast as courtesy allowed. Much as he adored the Frigate, now was not the time for a fencing match with its new proprietor. Not with a killer at large, a police investigation looming like Damocles's sword, and just two hours till the wake.
Now was the time to fill in missing pieces.
Tact forbade telling Lydia that Helen Wills’s scenario had struck him as worse than plausible. As the detective herself had quipped, you only had to know Alistair to want to kill him. His staying alive for this long was a testament to his friends’ patience and sanity. Lydia (she implied), having met him just a week ago, might not be so patient; and who could vouch for h
