A sudden, fearful death by Anne Perry Page B

sweat of horror, the fear, the rage, the smell of blood,
confusion, and blindness again.
    "I know that," he said
bitterly.
    "Then please continue to
pursue it, Mr. Monk." She looked at him with challenge, too consumed in
her own emotion to hear his. "Or if you are unable or unwilling to, then
perhaps you can recommend me the name of another person of inquiry who
will."
    "I believe you have no chance
of success, Mrs. Penrose," he said a little stiffly. "Not to tell you
so would be less than honest."
    "I commend your
integrity," she said dryly. "Now you have told me, and I have heard
what you say, and requested you to continue anyway."
    He tried one more time. "You
will learn nothing!"
    She stood up from her desk and came
toward him. "Mr. Monk, have you any idea how appalling a crime it is for a
man to force himself upon a woman? Perhaps you imagine it is merely a matter of
modesty and a little reluctance, and that really when a woman says no she does
not truly mean it?"
    He opened his mouth to argue, but
she rushed on. "That is a piece of meretricious simplicity men use to
justify to themselves an act of brutality that can never be excused. My sister
is very young, and unmarried. It was a violation of the very worst nature. It
has introduced her to—to bestiality—instead of to a—a .. ." She
blushed but did not avoid his eyes. "A sacred relationship which she—oh—
really." She lost patience with herself. "No one has a right to
behave toward anyone else in such a way, and if your nature is too insensitive
to appreciate that, then there is no way for me to tell you."
    Monk chose his words carefully.
"I agree with you that it is a base offense, Mrs. Penrose. My reluctance
to continue has no relation to the seriousness of the crime, only to the
impossibility of finding the offender now."
    "I suppose I should have come
to you sooner," she conceded. "Is that what you are saying? Marianne
did not tell me the true nature of the event until several days after it had
happened, and then it took me some little while to make up my mind what was
best to do. After that it took me another three days to locate you and inquire
something of your reputation—which is excellent. I am surprised that you have
given in so quickly. That is not what people say of you."
    The anger hardened inside him and
only Marianne's anguish stopped him retaliating.
    "I shall return tomorrow and
we shall discuss it further,"
    he said grimly. "I will not
continue to take your money for something I believe cannot be done."
    "I will be obliged if you will
come in the morning," she replied. "As you have observed, my husband
is not aware of the situation, and explanations are becoming increasingly
difficult"
    . "Perhaps you should give me
a letter to your cousin Mr. Finnister," he suggested. "In case
anything is said, I shall post it, so there will be no unfortunate
repercussions in the future."
    "Thank you. That is most
thoughtful of you. I will do so."
    And still angry, and feeling
disturbed and confused, he took his leave, walking briskly back toward Fitzroy
Street and his rooms.
    * * * * *
    He could come to no satisfactory
conclusion himself. He did not understand the events and the emotions
profoundly enough to be confident in a decision. His anger toward Audley
Penrose was monumental. He could have seen him punished with intense
satisfaction; indeed, he longed to see it. And yet he could understand
Marianne's need to protect not only herself but also Julia.
    For once his own reputation as a
detective was of secondary importance. Whatever the outcome of his entering
the case, he could not even consider improving his professional standing at
the expense of ruining either of the women.
    Miserable, and in a very short
temper, he went to see Callandra Daviot, and his ill humor was exacerbated immediately
on finding Hester Latterly present. It was several weeks since he had last seen
her, and their parting had