Bloody Royal Prints by Reba White Williams

downstairs. But I should like my passport back, please.”
    â€œI’m afraid that isn’t possible. We’ll need to hold it for a while. You don’t plan to leave the country, do you?”
    Rachel looked at Julia and raised her eyebrows. She turned back to Graham. “I do not intend to leave the country. I have tried to be cooperative, but I do not like having my passport confiscated. My lawyer will be in touch with you.”
    Graham shrugged. “As you wish,” he said.
    â€œMay I have your cards? You gave them to Lady Fitzgerald, but I shall want my own.”
    He handed her two cards.
    Julia, obviously annoyed, escorted Rachel to the door, collected her coat from the closet, and helped her put it on.
    â€œI’ll ring you later,” Julia said. She turned back into the apartment, and spoke to the two men. “I never met any Pal Pols until today. Did no one ever tell you about the ‘special relationship’? Americans are our friends. Especially when they bring a great deal of money into the country, as Mrs. Ransome does. Being rude to Mrs. Ransome was a serious mistake. Anyway, I know why you’re here. It’s not about the poor man who was killed. It’s all about Stephanie. You guys are always after her. Why can’t you leave her alone?”
    Rachel, waiting for the elevator, could hear Julia berating the men until the elevator doors closed. Good for Julia. The men were obnoxious in every way.

CHAPTER SEVEN
Rachel
    Tuesday, May, London
    On her way home from the Little Palace, Rachel asked her driver to stop at a newsstand to pick up a copy of Secrets .
    While she waited for him to return to the car, she tried to reach her attorney, George Quincy. His assistant said Mr. Quincy was engaged and would have to call her back. She hoped he would call soon. She could not understand the suspicion and hostility she had encountered, but she was certain she needed legal assistance. She had nothing to hide, as the offensive Palace Police would soon learn, but she had much to lose if these creatures decided to damage her reputation. She feared they had the power to do so, and perhaps the power to cause her a great deal of trouble.
    The photograph of the etching was on the front page of Secrets . Its subject was familiar: a female nude lying with her back to the viewer, a pose used by both contemporary and ancient artists. The print closely resembled Velázquez’s Rokeby Venus , without the mirror.
    The woman could not be identified, but the caption was provocative: “ Photograph of an etching made from a drawing of a woman visiting the Little Palace, where nearly everyone is connected to the Royal Family. We’d like to hear from readers who recognize this woman .” An e-mail address followed.
    Rachel sighed. Stephanie’s problems must be resolved quickly, but she could not see how to do it. She was almost certain that no one could prevent the press from printing this sort of thing. What would the blackmailer do next?
    Her cell phone rang. Thank goodness, it was George Quincy. When she started to explain why she was calling, he interrupted.
    â€œI know all about it, and it’s quite serious. I want to speak with you right away, but not on the telephone,” he said.
    â€œYou are worried about those officious men? I thought that it would be possible to put the whole affair to rest quickly, if we gave them the facts they asked for, and they verified them. But come immediately if you think it is necessary. I will be at home shortly,” Rachel said.
    A few minutes later she sat on a bench in the foyer of her house, removing her beige boots. To her astonishment, they were stained with blood. She must have walked in it, but when? She hadn’t entered the room where the dead body lay, and she hadn’t seen blood anywhere else. When she started to hang up her white coat, she was horrified to see blood splotches on the hem. How was it