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opened, and the blond behemoth known as Wrecker waved me in. “Late for you to be calling on herself.”
    â€œCan’t wait till morning for this, Wreck.” I grimaced at him. “Would you take me up to her?”
    He offered me his arm as nicely as any posh, and guided me to the back stairs. “We’ve a full house tonight, I’ll warn you.”
    â€œI can see that.” I stopped on the second-floor landing to permit a half-naked brunette and her rotund companion to pass in front of me. “Is Rina personally engaged?”
    â€œNot likely. Last I seen she were working on the ledgers.” He rolled his eyes. “Not in her best mood, either.”
    We dodged a few more unlikely couples in various states of undress before arriving at Rina’s office. Wrecker knocked and opened the door.
    â€œBeg your pardon, milady, but your”—he ducked quickly as an inkwell sailed over his head and smashed against the back wall—“friend’s come to call.”
    â€œI said no interruptions, you nummox.” Rina appeared, surveyed me, and made a disgusted sound. “Do you know how to balance six columns of figures to the pence?”
    â€œNo,” I admitted, “but I can rub your neck and make pretty, soothing noises.”
    â€œI hate accounting. I hate pence. And now, I hate you.” She turned on her heel and stalked back to her desk. “Tea for two, Wreck. Best you make it very strong and scalding hot, or you’ll be breathing it.”
    â€œYes, milady.” The big man gave me a sympathetic look before he trudged back to the stairs.
    I cautiously entered Rina’s chamber and gently closed the door behind me. “Problem with the books?”
    â€œYou might say that. And when they summon you to court and ask who was most likely to have choked my bookkeeper to death with bare hands, you’ll have to lie.” Rina slammed shut a large green book and flung herself into her desk chair. “So what do you want now? Money, gowns, sanctuary from someone who wishes to strangle you . . . ?”
    â€œI need only some information.” I perched on the arm of her sofa. “Anything you know about Lord Terrance Bestly.”
    â€œBestly, Bestly.” She concentrated, thinking for nearly a minute before she spoke again. “Father was an architect on the Hill; mother Viscount Radley’s youngest gel. Bestly inherited a pile, married up and more,founded a gent’s club. Probably to escape the missus, as it’s said he practically lives there.” She sat up. “Wait, not anymore. He dropped dead last week. I meant to attend the burial, but for some reason they’re dragging their heels on it. Probably waiting for family to travel.”
    Rina adored pomp and ceremony, and regularly disguised herself to attend important weddings and funerals. “Was his lordship one of your regulars?” I asked.
    That startled a laugh out of her. “God, no. Lady You Best Not, his wife, runs that decency society. She and her priggish friends have come after me and my gels more times than I can count. She probably sewed Bestly into his trousers every morning and had him piss out his ear.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did she kill him? Is that why you’re on the case?”
    I shook my head. “Lady Eugenia hired me to investigate her husband’s death.”
    â€œGet your money up front,” Rina advised. “Prudes like that one have short memories and tight fists.”
    â€œOh, she’ll pay.” I rubbed my tired eyes. “Her husband was the Wolfman.”
    â€œWhat?” Rina shrieked and laughed, instantly delighted. “Blind my Cupid— Bestly, a murdering loon?”
    I nodded. “His lordship went from posh nob to rampaging killer, all in one night. The story’s coming out in the Daily . Hopefully next week, but possibly tomorrow morning.”
    â€œCapital.”