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Michael could have counted the number of times that had happened on the fingers of one hand.
    â€œOh, please, Michael.” Iris shook her head slightly. “Don’t stand out there with your mouth open. You’ll swallow a fly or some other dreadful insect.” She scooted over and patted the seat beside her. “Please hurry. If we’re in luck, we’re going to catch the murderers.”
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    M OLLY STARED AT THE iPhone in her hand and willed it to flash on with a text message. She worked hard not to stareat Abigail Whiteshire’s body, but the task was impossible. She couldn’t help wondering how the woman had been killed and if she was somehow responsible.
    Of course you’re somewhat responsible. You set up the event this evening. You let yourself get caught up in the history of the robbery. Abigail Whiteshire wouldn’t have been here if you hadn’t arranged everything.
    A portly man carrying a black bag called to Paddington from the crowd.
    The inspector yanked his glare from Molly and peered at the new arrival. Then he waved. “Dr. Littleton. Good of you to join us.”
    Littleton held up his bag. “I thought perhaps you’d need me.”
    â€œI do.”
    The police officers widened the line enough to let Littleton through. The doctor was in his fifties with a clean-shaven face and a thin mustache. Horn-rimmed glasses gave him a professorial appearance. He wore a black suit and a long coat.
    As he passed Molly, Dr. Littleton touched his hat in greeting. “Evening, Mrs. Graham. I must say, it was an excellent party until…this.”
    â€œThank you.”
    Littleton knelt down beside the victim. In addition to his duties as a physician, he also held the post of coroner. Usually the crime scenes he worked were mishaps and pub brawls that had ended lethally.
    He let go of the dead woman’s arm. The limb flopped lifelessly to the ground. He pressed his fingers against her neck. “She appears to have been shot with a pistol at closerange, judging from the powder burns. I’d say death was instant. I’ll know more later.”
    Paddington nodded. “That’ll do for now, Doctor. Is her handbag under her body?”
    Littleton turned his attention back to the dead woman. “Give me a hand, would you?” Together, he and Paddington rolled the lifeless body up and peered under it. “No handbag here.”
    â€œWhat about a pocketbook?”
    The doctor searched the dead woman’s clothing, then leaned back in surprise. “There doesn’t seem to be one.”
    â€œI’ve never met a woman who didn’t travel with a handbag or pocketbook.” Paddington searched the ground, flicking the torch around carefully. “That means hers has to be here somewhere.”
    Molly stepped back and scanned the vicinity, as well. Her iPhone buzzed for attention.
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    Found Iris.
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    She tapped the keys like lightning. Where?
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    She was with Irwin.
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    W HAT ARE YOU doing?
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    Michael stared at the text on his phone and wondered that exact same thing. If he had any sense, he’d—
    â€œContact Paddington?” Iris lifted her left eyebrow sarcastically. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
    Guilt crashed over Michael as he met the older woman’sgaze. He hadn’t been able to hide anything from his great-aunt, either. He sighed. Then his iPhone vibrated again.
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    Michael?
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    Irwin piloted the limo through the darkened streets at well past the posted speed limits.
    â€œPaddington would seem like the logical course of action.” Michael tapped a quick message to Molly.
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    Patience, love.
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    Iris blew a raspberry and shook her head. “You saw how mired he is there at the back of the theater. By the time he could get free, the men we’re after will be long gone. It’s a good thing I told Rachel to go home and wait there for the police to