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Princess Caroline sat. Morgan knew the woman’s next question was the one that was eating at her soul. “Did she kill herself, Jack?”
Morgan shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it was staged to make it look that way.”
“Then find whoever staged it, Jack,” she begged, taking his hand in a grip like steel. “Find them. Find them, and bring them to justice.”
Chapter 42
PETER KNIGHT WATCHED from the Kensington home’s doorway as Eliza Lightwood’s stretcher was loaded onto the back of an ambulance. Though he had prevented a stabbing, and possibly murder, Knight felt awful—he had been raised never to hit women. At moments like this, he wondered what his beloved wife would think of him.
“Everything all right?” a police officer asked, seeing Knight’s melancholy.
“All good,” he lied.
“Look, doesn’t sound like there was any other choice,” the officer comforted the Private agent, empathizing with him. “I just finished interviewing your man in there, and he says that you saved his life.”
“Still…”
“No one said our jobs are easy.” The policeman shrugged. “He’s all yours if you want to talk to him.”
Knight gave his thanks to the officer, took one last look at the ambulance and walked back into the house. He found Mayoor Patel in the kitchen, the tea in his hand almost sent spilling as he got to his feet quickly at the sight of Knight.
“Mate, thank you so much, yeah.” Mayoor Patel spoke with an energized London accent. “You saved my life, mate. Listen. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, you’ve got it. Anything, yeah.”
“Thanks. I’m Peter Knight.”
“Mayoor Patel.”
“Do you mind if I sit down with you, Mayoor?”
“Course not. You want a tea? Or a beer? We could go out for a drink if you want, yeah? I owe you my life, mate.”
“Tea will be good, thanks.”
Knight watched as Patel quickly fussed over the brew and brought it to the table. “I’m all out of biscuits, mate,” Patel apologized, sitting down.
“That’s OK. I just want to ask you a few things, if that’s OK?”
“What, like questions?”
Knight nodded, and a frown grew on Patel’s face. “I already spoke with the police.”
“I’m a private investigator,” Knight explained. “I was following Eliza when she attacked you. Anything you could help me learn about her would help.”
“Oh… well, yeah. Happy to help.”
“So how do you know each other?”
“We work together, yeah. Sometimes, anyway. I’m at a hedge fund, and we have some mutual interests.”
“Would one of those mutual interests be Sophie Edwards?” Knight asked, leaning back into his chair.
For a moment Patel said nothing. Knight tried to decide if his wide eyes were a symptom of confusion, or fear.
“Sophie?” the man managed after a moment.
Knight nodded.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Patel explained. “What’s she got to do with Eliza?”
