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glance. He said, “Madame Heloise, would you please send the maid and the boy down to the workroom so that I can talk with you alone? You understand, do you not, that I must speak with all of you separately about what happened?”
    Lissa felt a flood of gratitude, knowing he could have given the order himself and undermined her authority over her servants. She began to tell Binge and Witta to go down to the workroom and wait, then halted them with a raised hand and turned to Justin who had come closer to the table and taken off his cloak.
    â€œInstead of waiting while you question me, may Witta go for a priest? I must make arrangements for Peter to be buried—or—or do you think I should wait for his sons to come back…or be found? Or perhaps I must wait until someone else examines Peter?”
    â€œYou may send the boy for the priest if you are sure he will come back.”
    â€œHe has nowhere else to go, poor creature. At least he has never told me of any home or family. And I think he is fond of me. I am sure he will return.” She told Witta what to do, and the boy ran off. Then she raised her eyes to Justin again, her lips curving upward as she said, “Now that I have nibbled on a finger of your good nature, I am about to bite off the whole hand. May Binge go to the market for food? And if she may go, should she buy sufficient for dinner for you and your men?”
    Justin should have snarled at her that his presence in her house was not meant to be a social occasion. What he said was “Yes, yes, send the woman out. We all must eat.”
    â€œYou may be sure she will not run away either,” Lissa said, her smile broadening into a mischievous grin. “She is waiting most eagerly to tell you how much better a wife and mistress Peter’s first wife was.” Then a frown replaced the smile. “But she will tell everyone in the market of Peter’s death, and perhaps—”
    â€œThat will not matter,” Justin said. “My men are already questioning your neighbors and those who came early to the Chepe, so your husband’s death is no secret.”
    His sense of shock at his easy agreement to all she asked had been dissipated by Lissa’s grin. Either the woman was so completely innocent of ill will toward her husband that suspicion of herself was inconceivable to her or she was guilty and so good at concealing her thoughts and feelings that open attack would be useless. His reaction was most fortunate, Justin thought, watching Binge close the door as she left the room. If he wanted the truth about Madame Heloise, he would have to trick it out of her. And that could not be done at once; she would be too suspicious of him to let down her guard immediately. Over a period of days or weeks if he allowed himself to seem seduced by her charms and sympathetic and helpful, she would relax and might easily let slip evidence he could use.
    â€œAnd speaking of food,” Lissa said, rising and going toward the wall that separated the bedchamber from the solar, where fine silver plates and goblets were displayed on two open shelves, “you told me you had come without breaking your fast. You must be famished by now.” She smiled at him over her shoulder, took down a plate and a goblet, and brought them back to the table. “Do sit down. You may question me while you eat.”
    â€œI can indeed do so,” Justin remarked, giving way and chuckling. “But I must warn you, Madame Heloise, that you are making me very suspicious with these attentions. Are you trying to seduce me away from my duty and blind me to the fact that when a man or woman is murdered it is most often the spouse who is guilty?”
    He noticed that Lissa did not even blink at the warning—which he had delivered in earnest, even though his tone was light. She merely shook her head as she poured ale into the goblet. Then she laid a thick slice of bread on the plate and, while