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investigation. “You’re pretty busy here tonight,” I smiled. “That’s a good piano player.”
    “The crowd from Roy Thomson Hall—I hear the violinist didn’t show,” he replied.
    “Victor Mazzini,” I nodded. “Do you know him at all? Does he ever come here?”
    “To the dining room, but no the bar. I’ve never seen him here.” He left.
    I sipped my Scotch and tried to plan a new strategy. “I think I should go back to the apartment,” I said to Sean.
    “You’re right. This is wasting time.” He gulped the last half of his drink in one swallow, and we left.
    At the door to the apartment, I clutched the knob to steady the door while I inserted the key. The knob turned under my fingers, and the door opened inwards. I felt a spasm of shock followed by fear. Something told me I should be glad, that obviously my uncle was home, but I didn’t believe it. I felt more frightened than before. Sean stared at the door, then at me. “I left the door locked,” I whispered.
    Strangely enough, he didn’t show any sign of hope either, but only a tense, wary stiffening of his body, ready for action. He stepped forward, listened a minute, then kicked the door inward. There were no lights on, so he reached in and flicked the switch.
    “Christ on a crutch!” he exclaimed.
    I peered over his shoulder into a scene of chaos. The strewn pillows, the opened drawers, the disarranged furniture told us the apartment had been ransacked while we were out.
    For one brief moment, everything went black. My head felt light, giddy. My knees suddenly turned to water. I’d never fainted in my entire life, but this shock, coming on top of a whole evening of worry, was enough to do it. Through the singing in my ears, I heard Sean’s rumbling voice, and felt the reassuring pressure of his hands on my arms.
    “Steady now. Let me go first.”
    I didn’t give him an argument, but went in behind him, on shaking legs, waiting for some new calamity to befall me.
     

CHAPTER 3
     
    “Was Victor a sloppy uncle, or would you say this is someone else’s work?” Sean asked. It didn’t strike me as the optimum moment for a joke.
    “Like a pin.”
    I walked in, picked a gold velvet cushion up from the floor, tossed it on the sofa and took a good look around. The first impression of vandalism was unfounded, the place was only messed up. There weren’t any slash marks, no sofa or chairs with their stuffing pulled out. I automatically began tidying up, and was glad to have something physical to do, while Sean made a quick tour of the apartment.
    When he came back he said, “Is anything missing?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Maybe you ought to leave that till the police have a look around.”
    “I’m not calling the police.” I didn’t know when the decision had been made, but suddenly I said it, and knew I meant it. “Victor has a European tour Lined up for early autumn. He doesn’t need a scandal at this juncture. I want to find out what’s going on before I call the police.”
    “You realize whoever got in here has a key?” he asked calmly, and waited for this news to sink in. When my face had turned white and my mouth fallen open, he continued. “Who’d have one, other than yourself and you uncle? Does this Eleanor lady have one?”
    “As far as I know, she only comes when she’s invited. Of course I’m away all day. It’s his place—I don’t ask questions.”
    “There’s another thing to consider, Cassie. We were gone for under half an hour. Whoever did this must have been watching the place, waiting for his chance
    A surge of emotion, part anger, part terror, welled up in me. “Comforting thought,” I said, trying to sound as calm as he looked.
    “You ought to talk to the doorman while things are still fresh in his mind.”
    “That sounds like a good idea,” I agreed, but I felt incapable of moving. I sat down, crossed my legs and drew a deep sigh. He looked surprised. “I’m just catching my