Getting Involved

Section Twenty-Six

Scott sat near the door, his phone at hand. Should anyone leave, he would first ask why and what for, and if necessary send a quick message to Margaret that he had already prepared.

Randall had eyed the phone with suspicion. She did not know what that was all about, but it had to be connected to Margaret, especially because she was not here and everyone else was. Considering the woman's curious nature, that was definitely suspect. Sometimes she wished Scott was more communicative and she leant towards him to whisper. "Where's our loyal assistant?"

He almost snorted at her description. "Doing something with my approval."

As that seemed to be all the information that was forthcoming, Randall shrugged. She could have asked if there were going to be any things that Margaret did without his approval, but she supposed that this was the first and the last case that the DCI was distracted by this particular female. A little patience would help her through it. The way he had phrased it, though, implied that whatever Margaret was doing was something someone else would not approve of. She was probably sticking her nose where she was not supposed to stick it. As usual.

The solicitor began and the will was announced to be a year old. That meant Nigel had not made any changes. He had been murdered before he could. Scott studied the assembled guests for their reactions. Someone might betray something. He could still not be certain that Nigel had planned to change his will in favour of Anna. This was the time to check.

Poppy looked excited or pleased -- it was hard to tell. Edwin looked puzzled. That was understandable, given that he had been the one to say the will was going to be changed and now he heard it had not happened. Clarissa's face betrayed a mixture of disappointment and anger if one looked closely enough. The rest of the party did not seem to find the date significant at all. They just looked as if they wished the solicitor to get down to business.

After some long and legal introductions that nobody cared about, it came as no surprise to most people that Poppy inherited most of Nigel's fortune and possessions. There were small crumbs for Sebastian and a few other relatives, and a settlement for annual payments to Clarissa and Anna. That sounded generous, to everyone who did not know any better.

Scott kept his eyes on Clarissa. A quick look at Anna had shown that she was happy with the money and completely ignorant of the fact that she had almost received more. Clarissa had drawn her conclusions after hearing when the will had been drawn up. She had not changed her facial expression since then and must be suffering her disappointment in silence.

He was glad his family did not have this kind of money to fight over. Greed brought out the worst in people, but it was interesting that they let their bad qualities be observed so closely. That was fortunate for him.

"I think that's rather a lot for you," Poppy commented on the height of the sum set aside for Anna.

"I'm sorry?" exclaimed Edwin, who felt he should stand up for Anna. "You've just inherited several millions. What is your problem?" Her greedy attitude rubbed him the wrong way. Little did she know that, had someone not prevented it at the last moment, the sum would have been even higher. He did not understand she could begrudge anyone some money when she had plenty herself, especially since she counted Anna among her friends.

"They get more than I do," Sebastian joined in. He felt he had been done a grievous injustice, as a relative. He should have got more consideration, just for that. "I'm related, after all. I think someone must have told him not to give me much, so they could have more." He gave Clarissa a pointed look, but she ignored him. Edwin came to her defence as well.

While the three of them were discussing this with raised voices, Clarissa moved closer to Scott almost unnoticed. She had a question to ask that the others could not overhear. "He was going to make a new will," she said softly. "Where is it?"

He did not take that question literally, since he thought she was sensible enough to know that if he had found another will, that would have been the one read right now. "So you believe he had got time to do it?" he asked, looking at Randall to see if she was still paying attention to the argument. Interesting things might come out of it. He could not help but think that perhaps Margaret's absence was a blessing for those involved because she could not interfere now. She would have cut the discussion short and prevented anyone from slipping up and revealing something.

She nodded. "Time yes. Determination too as far as I could tell. A week ago. Not too long to forget, nor too short to have time. Have you had the study searched?" If not, she would suggest that they look there. It was a glimmer of hope.

He was sorry to disappoint her. "We did that ourselves. Never found a will." He wondered how long the period was during which another will could still turn up and take effect. No murderer would take that risk, he thought. If someone had stolen the will, it would have been destroyed.

"Then I must accept that he didn't stay true to his word." She looked mildly disappointed. "That happens all the time in life, doesn't it?" She appeared to handle her disappointment graciously. "We're not destitute. It's the gesture. It would have been...nice."

More than nice, he would say. Scott observed her fetching the confused Anna to remove her from the present company. He did not think their departure was something he needed to warn Margaret about. He returned his attention to the argument on the other side of the room, where Poppy was still of the opinion that others were receiving too much money, money she seemed to think had belonged to her alone already before Nigel's death. Edwin gave up and it was only Poppy and Sebastian now. Sebastian was a perfect companion to Poppy's complaints. He was not satisfied with his share either.

Edwin passed Scott on his way out, giving him a multi-purpose shrug. He had no words for this behaviour and neither could he think why the promised alterations to the will had not been made.

Margaret wondered if she was going to find anything in Poppy's room. What could the girl possibly be hiding? One would destroy documents one did not want others to see, presumably. That was, if one was possessed of normal intelligence. What was normal to her was not normal to others, she had discovered long ago.

Her phone in her back pocket, within easy reach, she set to work. She followed the same order she had followed with Anna's room, starting with the bathroom. She took a second to gape at the interior. It was understandable to her that someone wished to show how hard he or she had worked by spending some money on a bathroom, for instance. That was pride at the abilities that had earned that money. Poppy had, as far as she knew, never earned any money or displayed any abilities. She only cost money.

She cost quite a lot of money, if her bathroom was anything to go by. Obviously she had had a talent for persuading Nigel spend thousands on her. This went a bit further than simply a Jacuzzi. Were there even companies that catered to such bad taste? It was probably all uniquely designed.

Margaret noted how empty packages had carelessly been thrown on the floor right beside the bin. Spoilt girls did not have to clean up after themselves, did they? Margaret knew there was a chambermaid from the village who cleaned the bathrooms daily, but her bedroom at least was not touched. She had never stayed longer than a week, so there was no real need to clean her bedroom unless she asked for it. Things might be different for Poppy, as it was unlikely that she did any cleaning herself. What could one hide under the nose of a chambermaid? The student who came in on Saturdays was a clever girl who would certainly realise the implications of documents she found.

She should stop musing, but start searching. The shinier, the better applied to the bathroom. She opened all of the cabinets, but she kept seeing endless quantities of tubes and bottles. Most of them had never been used. That would have been silly, for such a young woman. There was enough perfume to last a lifetime, of brands that Margaret recognised as very expensive.

An opened package of hair dye, Golden Glamour, caught her attention. The girl did not need hair dye either. She could not yet be going grey. Margaret had always assumed Poppy was a natural blonde, if rather yellowish. She glanced into the box. All it contained was a plastic package, no dye. She glanced at the list of contents. It was supposed to hold a bottle and four plastic gloves, enough for two colourings. The bottle was gone, but there were still two gloves in the box.

Two gloves. That was odd. Logically, thinking of the murder, one would assume that two gloves were missing while the rest was still intact, including the bottle of dye. Margaret frowned. If Poppy habitually dyed her hair without using gloves, she would not leave one pair of gloves behind, but both. It did not make sense at all to leave a pair of gloves in the box, after apparently not having used them. Why keep them if they were superfluous?

Perhaps she was imagining too much here. She replaced the box carefully and continued her search.

She was happy when she could leave the hideous bathroom and start on the room, though that turned out to be no better. It was decorated with the same ostentatious lack of taste and abundance of money. For a moment she wondered if Iain had ever caught a glimpse of this, hence his request that she search it instead of him. It would be just his kind of humour.

A look around told her that she was not going to be able to cover this entire room during the reading of a will, not even if Nigel had left money or possessions to a hundred people who were all named. She checked her phone in case she had not heard a message coming in, but there was nothing. "Right," she said, voicing her start.

Clothes. Clothes. Clothes. More clothes.

In order to see if there was anything hidden behind the horrific numbers of dresses, coats and blouses, as well as under the interminable piles of trousers, shirts and sweaters, all these closets would have to be emptied. She did not have time for that now. An even more stupid thing would be to slip into a closet if someone appeared.

The chests of drawers were filled with underclothes, some so flimsy that Margaret mistook them for pieces of expensive ribbon at first. No documents or papers were hidden underneath them, however.

The bed and the nightstand did not hold any secrets either, none that were important to the case, at any rate. There was no desk -- Poppy was not that kind of girl.

That meant she was finished and Iain had not phoned. She looked at the closets. No. She should not start on them, even if she was still safe. It would be stupid. They were so full that taking anything out of them would mean that it could not possibly be replaced. She was not good at that anyway.

All she had then was the package with the gloves, whatever that might mean.

Margaret decided not to go straight to Scott with her report. There was a chance that others were nearby. Reporting to him would make it look too much as if she had just run an errand for him. She should pretend that she had passed her time innocently, perhaps lying by the poolside with a book. He could just as easily come and find her. Also, the pool was the one place that guaranteed her the company Iain had insisted she seek out in order to be safe.

Hurrying into her room and stripping off her clothes, she looked around for a book at the same time. Yes, she had one. She shot into a bathing suit, grabbed the book and a towel and went downstairs by the back staircase, to make it look as if she had been there all along.

Had anyone looked out of a window they might have seen she had not been there a minute ago, but now she was and should anyone ask, she could always claim a visit to the lavatory. It was not really logical to take her towel and a book, but why not? They might not even ask themselves that question.

Soon she was joined by Arthur, who needed to share his opinions of the will and the implications this had for his project. She listened patiently, drawing some conclusions of her own. It was pretty rotten of Nigel to have left his entire estate to Poppy. Margaret could imagine what Clarissa would be feeling. Her chat with Randall had made her more convinced that Anna had been Nigel's daughter.

She wondered if Iain had wanted her to find a will that left everything to Anna. There might have been one that Poppy had found. She would certainly not have left it lying around to take effect, but she would have taken her precautions. Margaret did not know whether Nigel had intended to change his will, but given the accelerated developments lately, it was not unlikely.

Poppy had got what she wanted, however. No changes had happened.

Edwin showed up a minute or two later. "Someone killed him before he had time to change his will," he said without any introduction. "Where were you, Maggie? You weren't there," he said, as if he had only just realised it.

"I figured I wasn't going to inherit anything," she said with a shrug. "And I find legal terminology very yawn-inducing. Besides, I knew someone would come and tell me all about it anyway. Did he leave you anything? And what do you mean, change his will?" That was an interesting point. Nigel might have got murdered because of that. If even Edwin mentioned it, it meant that Nigel had had a real intention to change his will and that it was not merely a hunch of hers. She wondered how Edwin knew, but that was probably through Clarissa.

"He was going to. He had told Clarissa that he would."

"To keep her quiet or what?" Margaret asked, although Clarissa had never struck her as the kind of person who would make a fuss. She was not the typical lioness kind of mother who would do anything to defend her young. She would have been able to live on without Nigel's money as well. And she had Edwin, who was far from penniless.

"I can't go into the particulars." A look at Arthur showed Edwin that Arthur was on the phone, however, and completely monopolised by whoever was on the other end of the line. He had even moved away from them a little.

"Edwin..." It was her, not a stranger. Any particulars were safe with her. There were a lot of particulars that had been safe from the police as well. She was discreet.

Edwin leant towards her and whispered. "He was Anna's father. They had the proof."

"I thought as much," she replied calmly. If certain words were dropped in her presence a few times she had enough intelligence to string them together in an explanatory manner. Perhaps that was why Iain had neglected to tell her what she should be looking for. Perhaps he assumed she knew. Or perhaps he assumed that thinking about it was the same as talking about it.

"Oh God, Maggie," he groaned. "Is anything ever a surprise to you?"

Quite a lot was, actually, especially with regard to herself. "Well, not this, though I didn't know for sure. Why did they wait all those years?" The girl was what, twenty? Surely they had known this for a while. She could not imagine having a child without knowing who the father was. Yes, there was Catriona who had not known, but even drunkenness was no excuse to Margaret. She did not understand that either. She would also not wait for twenty years to take action. It was right away or never.

"Clarissa wanted to wait until Anna was older and until she actually got along with Nigel. She didn't want any money if there was no bond. Do you know what I mean?" It would be just the sort of thing Margaret would do.

Margaret was surprised. "Really?" She never would have guessed that. Clarissa had hidden qualities, apparently. "But I wasn't under the impression that Anna knew who her father was." Anna only knew what she was told.

"No, she doesn't."

It was not completely comprehensible to Margaret yet. "So, let me get this straight. Clarissa wanted Anna to meet Nigel -- I saw them once together -- and for them to develop a bond and only then would she tell Anna?" If she were Anna she would not accept being treated like a child, but Anna was Anna and she would probably not mind at all that her mother made all decisions for her.

"Something like that."

"Why?" It was not the way Margaret would go about it.

"Something about the bond being more real that way."

And any gifts would be from the heart. "All right. Whatever. Let's get back to the important stuff. So he was going to change his will and he didn't. Either he did and it never reached his solicitor, or he was murdered before he could. In either case someone other than Clarissa knew about it. Don't you think?" She looked at Edwin for affirmation. "I mean, look at what he did for his daughter. Did she even deserve one percent of it? No and he did it regardless. He did not have her from birth either. I somehow think that if he promised to change his will, he would have done so on a very short term. Wouldn't it make sense that he was willing to recognise Anna as his daughter as well? She might be the success Poppy has not yet been. Poppy is a thing of the last three or four years only. Don't forget that. If he could 'adopt' a girl once, he could do it again."

Edwin wanted to believe that. Margaret could make matters sound very logical. "Clarissa thinks he just didn't keep his word."

"What else can she think? No, she can think a lot else, but what else can she say without appearing a mercenary and ungrateful cow?" One could never really tell how it was without knowing the other person very well. People would expect Clarissa to be disappointed, even angry.

"I think she really thinks it, though."

"Yes, Edwin," Margaret said indulgently, "but you're in love with her, aren't you?" Edwin in love. Interesting. She dared to guess that Edwin and she fell in love with the same infrequency.

Section Twenty-Seven

After asking the solicitor if there was no possibility that there was another will, Scott approached Poppy. She had been listening attentively to the explanation that the solicitor had not received a new will and that unless another valid one was found somewhere, this one was the valid one. Her interest in boring matters was remarkable.

"It was unusual for your father to ask Margaret to tutor you after tea, highly unusual." Margaret had told him it had never happened before and she had ascribed it to her imminent departure. Scott had believed that for a while, until he had come to think the coincidence was too great. It had been too convenient that day. He saw Poppy shrug. "Did you perhaps ask for it?" Perhaps she would be so enthralled by the sum of money that she had inherited that she would slip up and give him an interesting answer. He had left her alone up to now, but there was too much now that pointed to a motive on her side. Perhaps it was time to put some pressure on her.

Poppy let out a shrill laugh. "Do you think I would ask to be tutored by Margaret? You must be crazy. Why would I?" She looked slightly uncertain, not knowing why he was asking her about this now. It had nothing to do with the will and she had not expected a question of this sort. She had not practised a reaction.

"That's what I'm going to find out, Miss Hargreaves." It did indeed not make much sense at first sight, given how much Poppy disliked Margaret, but that was something he could not admit openly. There had to have been a reason for this unusual occurrence. Margaret did not know it and Nigel could no longer tell. He dismissed Poppy and quickly sent off the text message to Margaret. She should break off her search at once.

He stared into space. "I have a feeling I might be right, Randall. What do you think?" That extra session was connected to the murder. Poppy had needed to manoeuvre herself into a situation where she had no company, so she could carry out her plan. Pretending to be tutored was perfect.

The roles were becoming reversed, Randall thought. Scott spoke first and he was talking about feeling things, and she was too lost in thought to speak. This was scary. "I was just thinking that you might be right. I don't know why, though, but she seemed to be lying -- the shrillness of her voice, the look in her eyes. What made you think she asked to be tutored?" That would make it premeditated murder and not an act of anger or desperation. She would have known there was time after the tutoring session.

"It happened once, and only once, and precisely on the same day that her father was murdered. Right before it, in fact. Remember Poppy's insistence on the fact that Margaret had the opportunity to murder him? Was that to draw our attention away from the fact that she did too? She had as much opportunity as Margaret. I don't find it remarkable that Margaret didn't go to the pool after the tutoring session -- considering that nobody has mentioned that she was there every day -- but it is surprising that Poppy didn't, isn't it?" After all, it was just the sort of vacuous, not very exerting or demanding pastime Poppy preferred. "She joined them every day, except when her father was killed."

Randall saw what he was getting at. "We heard they were there every single afternoon," she continued his train of thought. "All days were more or less the same, according to Edwin." People were creatures of habit. A change might be significant. "The girls were always slow to dress, he said."

"But this day was different. Poppy had other plans." She had skipped the sunbathing to commit a murder.

"And she used Margaret." Someone who was not easily used, but even Margaret could not have fathomed that Nigel was about to be killed. "And used her to get away from her usual crowd." They might have asked questions if Poppy had not offered a valid excuse for her absence. They might have come to bother her.

"But the motive she had thought up for Margaret wasn't convincing, that's why we weren't impressed by Poppy's attempts to frame her. Even if Margaret had wanted to get out of the tutoring, ordinary people who want to get out of a situation don't resort to murder. Can't we say that Margaret could suffice with words to get her way?" Poppy's behaviour just now had done nothing to convince him that she was innocent. He was not dissatisfied with her answer, even though she had not said much. She should now begin to feel a bit nervous.

"But why did someone try to kill Margaret?" Randall wondered. They had got Nigel's murder pretty much covered in theory, but last night's incident was still strange. She did not think Margaret knew enough to be dangerous.

"Did someone? Are you talking about last night?" They had not established that someone had really been trying to murder Margaret. Someone had been at her door. It was unclear why. They should not immediately think of murder.

Randall thought he was being blind. She would have expected more concern -- or was he restraining himself because she was expecting something else? "Someone tried to break into her room at night. That couldn't have been a suitor and even a burglar would have found it easier to search her room without her in it. I can't think of any other purpose than that it was done to inflict serious bodily harm." And if Margaret herself had considered any other purpose, she would not have been so afraid.

The fear had crossed Scott's mind, but in order to keep seeing things in the right perspective he had ascribed it to a too great personal concern for the lady in question and he had told himself to be rational. He had nevertheless suggested that she keep sharing a room with Randall, so she would be safer. "I suppose so. I told her to stay in your room. Just in case we are dealing with someone who is eliminating everyone she dislikes."

"Yes, sir. But why did it happen? Did she know something? I thought she told us all. What did she that she didn't tell us about?"

"She searched a room yesterday." Had he not told her about that? He ought to remember that things he discussed with Margaret should also be communicated to Randall and vice versa, if they were not personal. Sometimes that slipped his mind. Now that he thought of it, he had not told Margaret she should be looking for a will either.

"Obviously someone found out and didn't like it. Someone was afraid she found something. Which rooms did she search and was that at your request?"

"No, it was her own idea. I caught her coming out of Anna's." Quite literally, but it was wiser to keep from Randall that he had actually had his hands on her hips. He suspected it might thrill Randall beyond reason.

"Anna's." Randall sounded surprised. "That's hardly..." It was hardly their biggest suspect. In fact, she had not at all benefited from Nigel's death, unless she had not stood to inherit any money before this version of the will had been made. But in that case, as the will was a year old, she had acted pretty late, unless she had an immediate need for money.

"Apparently it was the person least likely to disturb her," Scott said with a shrug. He could think of better arguments should he be the one to make a choice. "I have already spoken to her about the wisdom of it. No need to worry. But given that she has her own ideas about what she should do, I thought it best to head her off and use that to my advantage. That's why with my knowledge she searched the room of the person least likely to disturb her during the reading of the will."

"No!" Randall exclaimed. With his knowledge or at his orders? Somehow she thought Margaret would not take any orders. She might consider following a suggestion, though. Or perhaps the DCI had lent his approval to her idea and believed he had some influence over her because of that.

"Yes!" Unusual practices, he agreed and was not keen on elaborating. "But maybe someone knew she searched Anna's room and they thought she searched other rooms too." He wondered who that could have been. Presumably Margaret had looked around herself before embarking on her mission and she had made sure she knew where everyone was. She should have been that clever.

"Who could have seen her? Did you ask her?"

"She heard Poppy approach." Although that did not mean that Poppy had come upstairs because she had known or suspected anything. It might have been a coincidence. Another one. He wondered if anyone could have seen Margaret leave the room via the balcony. People with their rooms on that side of the house might have been able to if they had looked out.

"Poppy again."

"And presumably Anna, but I don't quite cast Anna into that role. I don't think she's clever enough to suspect that people going upstairs might be going to search her room. Where's Margaret now?" He had expected her to come to him with a report of sorts. He had texted her, after all.

"By the pool, I think." Randall had caught a glimpse of that.

Scott did not raise his eyes from his desk, not wanting to ask if she was alone. "Call her." He still had to ask what she had found. Moreover, she was safe in their company and not in everyone else's, even if the pool was an intelligent place to be at the moment.

Randall found Margaret by the poolside, the way she had expected. Arthur and Edwin were with her, although Arthur was on the phone and he was a short distance away. "DCI Scott asked for you, Miss Maxwell," she said formally, for the benefit of Edwin, who might be thinking strange things otherwise.

"Does he know she's undressed?" Edwin asked lazily. "Shouldn't you put something on first, Maggie? Or will you stay just like that to impress him?" He knew Margaret did not much approve of skimpy clothing, but the Inspector might.

Margaret gave him a scathing look. "If he is in any way affected by the sight of my swimwear, he is a bad policeman and he shall not rise in my estimation." Her appearance was not something she had considered at all and now that it was brought to her attention, she was too stubborn to change anything about it.

Randall said nothing. She could come to the defence of her boss, but it was all up to the man himself. He knew, she assumed, what he was getting himself into if he ordered for a woman to be fetched from the poolside. She would hardly be wearing a parka.

Margaret wrapped her towel around her waist, shoved her sunglasses up in her hair haughtily and followed Randall. She wondered why the man could not come and fetch her himself. "What does he want?" she asked when they were far enough away from the others. "I took care to be with others. Am I in grave danger from one of them?" She was not at fault here. Or did he merely want to know if she had found anything? He would be curious, she supposed, yet he should understand why she had not yet been to see him. "Fetched from the pool like a murder suspect."

But that was precisely what she ought to be, a suspect and not an assistant. "That wasn't it. He'll tell you."

"Come on, Lisa. Don't tell me you let yourself be sent on errands if you don't know their purpose. You know why he sent for me," Margaret coaxed. She did not want to be sent for herself without knowing what the reason was, like some obedient puppet. "We are independent women." Perhaps she was fast becoming a caricature of herself, the ultimate independent woman, clinging to the last vestiges of independence as she was slowly sucked into Scott's sphere of influence.

"The DCI is in charge. Acting too independently would be foolish. Acting in cooperation is another kettle of fish," said Randall. "You searched Anna's room yesterday. He wants to know if you searched more."

Margaret looked puzzled. "He quite literally caught me coming out of Anna's room. There was no opportunity to search another." She had spoken with him afterwards. "Does he think I didn't tell him the truth?"

"He thinks maybe someone saw you. He wonders if that someone is now afraid you found out their secret."

"Anna? I don't think so." And she was not even certain that Anna had seen her. Someone had come into the room, but she did not know if that person had looked out of the window or if it had been Anna at all.

"Who else could have seen you?" Randall asked as she opened the door to the study, letting Margaret enter.

"If Poppy had looked out of her window she might have seen me below, but I never searched her room yesterday," Margaret said to Scott. "You know I didn't. We had that little tête-à-tête in the rose garden, remember? Where I told you?"

"Perhaps you'd like to get dressed before we speak?" he suggested, taking a look at her swimwear and towel. He was not sure if it was going to distract him, but he had better not take any chances. Even if it did not, Randall would think that it did.

Randall snickered audibly, especially when she saw Margaret gape at him. It was interesting, was it not, to be confronted with a similar odd-thinking person?

Scott ignored the snickering. "Randall? Would you mind going with her?" Not to make sure she dressed adequately, of course, but to make sure no one attacked her.

Randall tried hard not to burst into giggles when they had left the room.

"Very funny," Margaret remarked, not seeing the joke. "What's so indecent about my swimwear? It's one piece, a conservative colour and in part covered by a towel. It doesn't look any worse than what some other guests around here have been wearing." There was nothing bad about it. Why did he have to send her away as if she was some underdressed floozy?

"Apparently it's too much for him -- or too little."

"Look, I don't dress with the intention to seduce or distract our dear Inspector," Margaret said irritably, notably because she wondered if she was stubbornly refusing to see that she did. No, she did not, but Edwin's comment had shown her that she might and she had not taken any action then.

Our dear Inspector? Randall had to try very hard now to keep her composure. "But perhaps he fears he might be distracted anyhow. Didn't you fear the same when you refused to stay in his room?"

Margaret looked dignified. "Just because they're principles doesn't mean you can make fun of them. They work for me." They had always worked for her so far. It was not going to change. She was not even going to wonder whether she might have been distracted in Iain's room.

"Do they?" Randall would never have guessed she would dare to challenge someone who regularly appeared on television. "They're only principles until they stop working." And perhaps for Margaret they were close to no longer being effective in keeping men at bay.

"And then what?" Margaret gave her a disturbed look. What did the girl know? She was a few years younger. Yet she wanted to hear any thoughts or advice that people could offer, without betraying that she was interested.

"Then you replace them, I suppose." It was really not as problematic as it appeared.

Section Twenty-Eight

Scott leant his head in his hands. His precautionary measure of sending Margaret away had amused Randall immensely. Perhaps it had indeed been thoughtless of him to send for Margaret knowing she was at the pool. He could have known she would not be wearing all that much.

Yet he should not seek out such encounters and if there was anything he could do to avoid them, he must. It was not Margaret's fault. She had only done what she had been asked. She had had every right to gape at him and his request. Sending her away now was at least professional, a return to proper behaviour. After the case he would no longer be so strict.

He lost himself in contemplation of what might happen after the case. His mother, when he had phoned her to ask how things were going, had been making odd remarks that he could not quite place, as if she too was thinking there might be a sequel to this case.

She and the girl seemed to get along very well. They had walked the dogs and chatted, but about which topics she had not wanted to say. He did not doubt that she now knew more about Margaret than he did. That was not bad, although he had got a -- not very distinct -- impression that an alliance was in the making at his mother's house, an alliance directed against him. Or perhaps not against him, but he would be subjected to female machinations at any rate.

Ailsa's young age did nothing to reassure him. Anyone raised in Margaret's household would have picked up on some of her habits and cleverness.

It was to be expected. That was all Margaret could think. Randall did not utter anything save for a few snickers and she was glad to be left alone in her thoughts, despite being accompanied physically. Iain paid her back in kind or perhaps he had the same kind of preferences she did. Randall found it enormously funny, but Randall was easily amused, it seemed. She should not care what Randall thought. DCI Scott was in charge and she should bend to his will.

She cringed. Bending to someone's will was awfully undesirable for an independent and intelligent female, though she should not take her abhorrence too far and become one of those stubborn caricatures who passed up good opportunities just because they were presented by men. She merely ought to find another way of phrasing it so that it was more palatable.

For a satisfactory co-operation she should do what DCI Scott suggested or asked and that was all. There was nothing submissive or stupid about that. It was merely the wisest thing to do. If the man asked her to put on more clothes, she should examine her attire and agree that it was lacking. Because it was.

She would not have liked it either if he had licked his lips and drooled at her appearance. No. Perhaps she should admire the man's strength of mind, or would that be his honesty in implying that he might not possess such strength? Either one was good. It was strangely unnerving to inspire such a reaction in someone more controlled than she.

Margaret shrugged and decided to comply with his request, as if going upstairs had not already been a sign of compliance.

Quickly she changed into something that could neither offend nor seduce Scott. Did he really think she had that intention? She would rather die first. Her objective, in a murder case, was not to seduce the investigating police officer, but to remain unsuspected and preferably to solve any mystery there might be, just because she liked mysteries. What sort of person would she be if she immediately made a beeline for any man crossing her path? Some of the other guests here might, but not she. She required some more investigation of the man in question before she took such a step.

Edwin had predicted Iain's reaction with his comment, had he not? It was highly irritating that she had ignored that, only to find he had been correct. A frustrated "men!" escaped her lips. Their visual orientation made life so complicated now and then. Randall, upon coming to fetch her, had rightfully said nothing about her swimwear -- because what she was wearing should make no difference with regard to what she had to say.

Randall, who had been watchful but silent, spoke for the first time. "I have no complaints about Mr. Randall." She thought she ought to provide this anti-critical note just to be fair, although she quite understood what had inspired Margaret's frustration. Occasionally even Mr. Randall elicited such comments. He was a man too.

"Mr. Randall?" Margaret had not yet seen Randall as someone who might have a significant other, but yes, it figured that even policewomen were humans and they would have those. They did not have to mention their family right away or even at all if they were on duty, which would explain why the thought had never occurred to her. That was uncommonly self-centred of her.

"Yes."

That was very interesting. "I didn't know you had one. What else do you have? Any children?" Perhaps it was impolite to ask, but it was too late now. She had already asked the question. There was always a danger of offending or hurting people with something so personal. Still, Lisa never shied away from asking personal and probing questions herself either.

Randall shook her head. "No, I'm still young. Maybe later."

Margaret nodded. "I was still young when I had mine, or rather when I assumed responsibility for her. I don't blame you. Though I expect it's completely different if you have a husband." They would lend a hand. Hers would. She would not marry anyone who gave any evidence to the contrary, no matter how small.

"How did the girl hinder your relationships with men?" Randall wondered. For a moment she feared she had gone wrong here, but Margaret's reply put her at ease.

"Hinder? Do I come across as hindered?" It was spoken quite calmly and not at all as if she might be offended. The notion had crossed her mind as well, but she could never reach an objective conclusion.

Randall breathed a sigh of relief. "It might put off some men to hear you're taking care of a child." She had not intended to make Margaret think she was strange in any way -- although her character was undoubtedly a good explanation.

"I don't know. I seem to be more of a hindrance myself than Ailsa is." She smiled, knowing she was quite good at putting men through tests. "I never tell them about Ailsa anyway." Hearing about Ailsa was one of the later stages.

"You don't? Why not?"

"They usually don't prove trustworthy enough to be allowed to know. Look, I get proposals by mail. Men are ... or can be ... twisted. Some mention whips. Do you think I'd tell any of them about my private life? Who knows what they might do or where they might turn up." She looked disgusted. In fact, the men were hindrances themselves.

But she had told Scott without subjecting him to many tests. Randall thought it too obvious to mention that exception. She expected Margaret could come to that realisation herself as well.

Scott could not find fault with her attire now. She was covered from wrist to ankle and she met his gaze without reproof, as if she had not minded his request. He wondered if he should say anything about it or offer her his thanks, but he could not decide whether any of that would get him into trouble. He did not want trouble.

"You wanted to know what I found," said Margaret briskly, sitting down. "I already heard about the will."

"Yes. Did you find anything?" He supposed not, because she would have met him more quickly and with more enthusiasm if she had found anything of importance.

"First of all, she has so many clothes that I could not search her closets. She might have a dead body hidden in them for all I know; that's how full they were. I didn't have the time to take every single item of clothing out, so if you want that, you should get a few policemen in to do it for you. I did look in the bathroom and what I found there was a spare pair of hair-dye gloves."

"What are those?" He was not at all into female cosmetics and toiletries. He had no idea where gloves came in. She apparently did.

"Gloves one wears to prevent hair dye from staining one's hands," she explained patiently.

"Is that a significant find?" He tried to remember the colour of Poppy's hair and if it looked unnatural. He thought she was a blonde, but he had never studied her well enough to know if she was a natural blonde or not.

"Well...why leave them in the box if you have no use for them and you don't, because you haven't used them. Why not throw them away?"

That was what an organised person would think. Not everyone was organised, however. "Some people never throw things away. Didn't you say she had so many clothes?" They might not be able to conclude anything.

She ignored that. "She dyed her hair twice. There are two servings in one bottle. Once with gloves and once without. Why?" There had to be a reason for that.

Why indeed? But was everything women did always comprehensible? This might just be one of those inexplicable things that were done without reason. Why would a young girl dye her hair blonde anyway? He did not see that it improved anything about her appearance. "Maybe she didn't like doing it with gloves the first time and she didn't use them the second time. I fail to see why this is important."

"So do I, but it is," Margaret said stubbornly. "I feel it."

He could see she would not look kindly upon another dismissal of one of her discoveries, so he relented. "Well then. Let us look at the facts. Gloves missing from the first aid kit -- yes, we checked and had the thing taken away -- and gloves turning up in a box of hair dye." There might be something there, but as yet he could not see it, except that both of her finds had to do with gloves.

"Not the same kind of gloves," Margaret clarified.

"But she might have dyed her hair with the missing pair? She could have taken them from the kit to her bathroom." That would explain why they were missing in one place and superfluous in the other.

"What for?" She supposed it was possible, although she did not see why.

"Don't know. The gloves were your idea." And he had no clue how women dyed their hair. This was the first time he had ever heard of gloves in connection to that. Perhaps one kind was better suited to it than another kind.

"Not my idea. I just happened to be the one to bring this evidence to your attention. I didn't invent their existence. They were clues for us to notice." And as far as she was concerned they should be looked at closely before they were dismissed as unimportant.

Clues for them to notice? That made him sarcastic. "Placed there by the great clue dispenser? This is not an Easter egg hunt in which someone left eggs all over the place."

"I find it quite similar nevertheless," Margaret said, just because. To be honest, she did like him when he was being sarcastic, but for the sake of her argument it was not at all convenient that he was being sarcastic in reply to her.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you never seem to be surprised about anything."

"I merely hide it well."

"I am so sick of this whole murder case," she vented all of a sudden. "I want to go home." That was very pathetic. She usually had more stamina than this.

"You may go when the police release you. I, on the other hand, must stay till I solve the case, despite the fact that cases may become too much for me at times as well." He did not speak too harshly, because he could understand some of what she was feeling.

"You have my deepest sympathies," Margaret said sarcastically. He did not appear sick of the case in any way. Perhaps he was merely exasperated by her, but that was not even all the time, only when she was being exceptionally vexing.

Section Twenty-Nine

After sitting motionless for many seconds, Scott moved again. He had been thinking, not about Margaret's offer of her sympathies, but about which course of action to take next. He had a list of things to do and a list of information to arrive. Some actions depended on that. He looked at his list. "The will -- we have that. Physical evidence -- we do not. Time of death -- did you put that fellow of yours to work, Randall?"

Randall was not aware that it had been her job to put him to work. "Er...I did, but he was busy and he could not make us a priority for obvious reasons." He could not do jobs first just because friends or relatives were waiting for the result. That would not be professional. He had to wait until he had time. Perhaps Scott no longer understood professionalism. Cases had to be handled in the appropriate order.

"Just ring him and ask. There's no need to do your case last because you're his wife." That was probably not the case, but one could never be certain. "Tell him he'll have you back sooner if he hurries."

"All right, sir." Randall left the room to make the call in a more discreet setting. She would not phrase her request quite like Scott's order. That would not work. She did not want him to overhear her phone call, because he would interfere.

"That might not cut any ice with him," Scott muttered as he stared at the next item on his list, which had something to do with people's financial situations. "But you never know."

"Would it with you?" Margaret inquired and then wished very much that she could bite off her tongue. She had no business being interested in what would influence him.

He glanced up, surprised. "But I'm in a different position, aren't I?" He wondered why she was asking and precisely what she was asking. She might be asking if he could be persuaded to work faster to be reunited with his wife, but she might also be asking something completely different.

She looked away and grimaced, wishing she were invisible. If only she had not asked that question. Perhaps he had not heard properly. In that case she was not going to repeat herself if he asked. With a glimmer of hope she looked back at him, but he was still studying her intently. That unsettled her. "I...don't know."

His eyebrows shot up ever so quickly. "It seems obvious to me. Mrs. Randall requested Mr. Randall to do a certain job. The sooner he does it, the sooner Mrs. Randall will be back home with him. I cannot say the same."

"Why not?" Margaret marvelled at her ability to ask stupid questions today. It was obviously a talent she had never exploited much, but one she definitely possessed.

He was still patient. "Perhaps because I have no Mrs. Scott who needs to do jobs for me."

"Is that why you let me do them?" Margaret cringed again. She should leave the room and hide somewhere, but she was unable to break off this conversation. It excited her too and that feeling was still a little bit stronger.

Iain waited a few seconds before he answered. "Yes. You're a very good substitute for a Mrs. Scott."

She forced herself to appear as unperturbed as he was, clenching her fists as if that was going to help. She could not lose this and give up on the question she wanted to ask, because she was still interested in the answer. "Well, would it make you work faster if you knew it would bring her home sooner?"

"Yes," he said simply. That went without saying. He would not get married in order to stay away from his wife as long as possible. He would do all he could to see her, if his job allowed him to, but he did not want to dwell on this subject for too long right now. He still had the upper hand, but he might lose it soon. "Though it isn't quite comparable to the Randall situation. He'll have several dead bodies to cut up, I expect." And bodies could not be left lying about for too long.

"Oh." Margaret pulled a disgusted face. "Is that what he does?"

Even a mention of cutting up dead bodies was good to make the girls disgusted and make them forget whatever they were saying before. He had known it would. He leant forward a little, as if they shared a secret. "Now you know how they met."

She did not know anything. "You're skipping over some explanations, I think."

"Oh." It had seemed logical to him, but that was because he visited such places on a regular basis. "I had to take her there once. She was so disgusted by the corpse that she could only look at the doc." He grinned meaningfully.

She could take it from there. "So...what was he doing looking back?" She supposed he had had things to show or to clarify with regard to the corpse. He should not have been gaping at girls. "How unprofessional of him."

"Not very professional," he agreed. "What would you do?"

She would not have been staring. "I have more faith in a good combination of seeing and hearing. I want to be entertained in the dark as well."

In the dark? He could have known that talking to Margaret would lead to some unexpected turns in the conversation. They should not distract him and he should certainly not start wondering about the darkness. "I didn't say she was silent."

"But did she also listen?" As far as Margaret was concerned, the doctor would have needed to do more to impress Randall than just look impressive in his white coat.

"Should both parties listen then? Maybe he listened."

"Equal opportunities all the way," Margaret said amiably. "You won't get away with only listening." That was directed at him. He should speak more.

"Hint. Hint." He looked down at his papers, as if he wanted to continue working.

"I am here," she informed him. He should look at her and talk.

"I want to be entertained without looking at you." He smiled at his papers.

Margaret heard her own words being used against her. She was thrilled and could not say a word.

"Well?" Iain looked up when no entertainment was forthcoming and he could not concentrate on his list of things to do.

"I think you should entertain me, instead of the other way around. I've been doing most of the talking so far, haven't I?" Margaret folded her hands in her lap like a good girl. "My thing is not talking. My thing is letting people talk and then catching them out." She was pleased to see he was looking at her again.

"I've never seen you do what you call your thing," Iain replied. "So don't use it on me."

"I've seen you do your thing. It's quite silent." She leant an elbow on her knee and rested her chin in her hands, encouraging him to speak.

"Maybe you're not listening." He did occasionally speak, more often than she implied. In fact, to almost every comment of hers, he commented back.

"Well, if I were only listening I wouldn't have much to go on."

He got up and walked around the desk, leaning against it to look down on her, his arms crossed.

Margaret crossed her legs and leant back, exuding the utmost confidence. "I'll have you know I was really good in school." He looked like a teacher about to put her through hell. She could take it.

"I don't doubt that you still are. Let's have that poem you made Poppy recite."

She had not expected that. "Well...why not?" She closed her eyes for a second and then spoke the lines. It was not a very long poem she had had no trouble memorising it by accident. "Pass or fail?"

"Pass. But you do realise that I have no clue if it really exists or if you're inventing this on the spot."

Margaret shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The important thing is how you say it, whatever you say."

Randall returned, not looking as pleased as she should have done after a chat with the husband. "He had the results -- this morning!" She managed to look indignant. "But he hadn't phoned yet because he would otherwise have to phone twice today."

"Which must be avoided at all costs," Scott commented dryly. His conversation with Margaret had put him in a very good mood for some reason. "But why?"

"It would not have been efficient," Randall quoted in disapproval. "Anyway, the time of death was put between half past five and half past six. I got a really disgusting analysis of the contents of his stomach, but I'll spare you that." She shuddered.

"That's what I thought too," said Margaret. "Around that time."

"Next time we'll ask Margaret to establish the time of death," Scott chimed in quickly. "She'll be even more efficient than Dr Randall and she doesn't need to refer to gory details to reach a conclusion."

Margaret rolled her eyes. "You're insufferable. I employed logic."

"Wouldn't it be more logical to employ logic at all times?" It was just a question he felt compelled to ask. She might not agree with him. That was logic too.

"How is calling you insufferable not logical?"

Randall coughed. "Yes. Well. Sir. I hate to interrupt, but the case..." The case was still more important than the DCI's private life and assessments of his character by suspects, amusing though they were. Sometimes he had to be protected from himself as well. She owed that much to her boss.

"Yes, yes, the case. I hadn't forgotten about the case." He studied his list again. "Time of death, five-thirty to six-thirty. Who are ruled out?" He picked up his table of events. "The pool people, unless they were really quick and Dr Randall wasn't as precise as he could have been. I don't know what the margin for error is, but it seems that Edwin is ruled out for certain, given that Margaret heard him not long after he went upstairs. What about the bath water, by the way?" He looked at Randall in case she had got information about that. He could imagine that it had played some role.

"I'm sure he took the temperature into account."

"Isn't Edwin also ruled out psychologically because of what he went to do afterwards?" Margaret asked in a tentative voice. She would rather not go into details much.

"Margaret, let's not try to guess what goes on in Edwin's mind and the last thing we should do is to assume he's ruled by logic or morality. After all, he considered having sex with one woman and then went to have it with another instead. I'm not going to try and imagine what he might or might not be capable of. That's impossible." He supposed he too occasionally fell prey to saying things he should not have said. He had pretended not to notice that Margaret had kept cringing at what she had said earlier, but it had been all too clear.

Randall hid her mouth behind her hand. That was a little vehement for the DCI. She supposed he did not like to hear Margaret stick up for Edwin. That was understandable, but did he have to be so obvious about it? Actually, it did not matter anymore. Not to her, anyway. She already knew what was going on. If Margaret did not know it yet, then the obviousness might have some effect.

Section Thirty

Scott decided he wanted another word with Clarissa. He needed to speak to her about the will, about Anna and about Edwin. All these things were important. She was also one of the people who had not got an alibi for most of the period during which the murder had been committed, which would not be so bad if they could not imagine a motive for her, but unfortunately they could.

There was the question of what to do with Margaret, whom he had told not to stay alone. He told her she could keep Anna company, but she had given him a rather contemptuous look. Anna was indeed not much in the way of protection, but that had not been his objective. It was nothing more than a deterrent to the murderer to have Anna with her. Frankly, with his current suspicions, he could not see anything happening to Margaret unless she was unconscious or asleep. Anna's presence would prevent either state, he assumed.

He, with Randall and Margaret in tow, sought out Anna and Clarissa, who were talking quietly in one of the sitting rooms. "Could we have a word, Miss Edmondson?" Scott asked Clarissa. "Miss Maxwell will keep Anna company while we talk."

He did not seem to care whether Anna or she liked that idea, Margaret thought sarcastically. He expected compliance from both and Anna was not going to pose a problem. Anna looked a little scared at having to keep Margaret company, but she did not protest. Margaret thought about protesting, but then realised she would look silly if she did not do that until after she had followed him.

She suggested going outside and Anna readily agreed. She wondered if the girl ever said no. Anna always went along with any suggestion. They traversed the lawn without speaking. When they had reached the rose garden, one of her favourite spots, Margaret spoke. "Have you ever been here?" She had never seen Anna and she sat here often. It was not something she really wanted to know, but it was a subject they might be able to talk about.

"Yes, but only if you or Arthur aren't here. I never want to disturb you. I usually go to the summer garden, on the other side of the house," she pointed, as if Margaret needed directions.

That was a relatively long speech and Margaret decided to take advantage of it. "Don't you want to know why the Inspector wants to talk to your mother?" She still did not know whether Anna's constant naïveté was real or an affectation. Anna had never not been naïve and Margaret would not like for her insight in people to have been so totally off the mark. Nevertheless, it was hard to imagine that someone could be so unquestioning and unable -- or unwilling? -- to think beyond the current moment.

"No, I don't."

"Aren't you curious?" Margaret felt that Anna, in order to be human, ought to be curious at least. Even if she did see the world as a series of separate images she ought to be curious about transitions between them. It should make her curious that Scott wanted to question Clarissa without her.

Anna's expression was placid. "I'll wait until Mum tells me."

This could not be real. Margaret had trouble accepting it. "Anna!" she exclaimed, as if this could alter things.

Anna turned her large and as always uncomprehending eyes on Margaret. "Yes?" Seemingly she had no idea what was meant.

"Please tell me you are at least wondering what they are talking about," she said almost pleadingly.

"I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Don't you have thoughts flashing through your head?" How horrible for the girl if her mind was such a complete blank. Margaret nearly shuddered.

"Yes, but I choose not to think of them," Anna answered modestly. "I would be wrong anyway."

Margaret regained hope at this tiny fraction of evidence of mental activity in Anna. She would help out a little by providing a bait. "Didn't any connection to the will cross your mind?"

"Yes, but that's because that happened most recently. I cannot think what they want to discuss about it, though."

Margaret could make several guesses and she hoped one of them would start Anna off. "I can imagine that your mother might want to ask if the police didn't find another will. Or that the police might want to ask her a few more questions about her alibi, because she didn't have one."

Anna did not react to either suggestion. She continued looking rather blank. She did not even ask why her mother would want another will, nor did she betray any concern at the fact that her mother had no alibi.

"Come on, Anna!" The unresponsiveness was driving Margaret crazy. Interaction was impossible. "Didn't they teach you to ask questions in school?"

That finally elicited a reaction, even if it was spoken rather tamely. "Do you think I should be asking questions about everything and have opinions, like you or Poppy?"

"Eeee! Don't equate us!" That was appalling, even if this attitude was one to be explored. There were traces of thinking in it.

"But both of you..." Anna broke off. "I'm sorry, Margaret. I didn't mean you were the same type of person. I mean, you have done things in life. You are on TV. You have a right to make comments about people. Poppy hasn't done anything and yet she thinks she can say everything. I don't want to be like that."

"So you say nothing? I'm on TV because I had no skills and I needed money quickly -- and because I spoke my mind, but it's all right to speak your mind once in a while. And what sort of questions does Poppy ask? Does she ask any at all?" Or perhaps Anna meant a different kind of questions. Nosy ones. Poppy's questions were not inspired by a thirst for understanding.

"Oh yes. She always wants to know whom I've seen and where I've been. I guess so she can tell me she has done better." Anna shrugged a little, as if she did not really understand the motivation. "But you know, I don't really care about that."

That was good. Margaret regained some more hope. "Did she ask you about your meetings with Nigel?" That would be significant.

Anna did apparently not think it an odd question at all. She answered readily. "No, she was not allowed to know, but whenever I'd seen him she usually asked whom I'd been with."

"And you never thought about this?" Margaret asked with little hope of a positive answer. If Anna had been able to notice that Poppy asked questions after these particular meetings, there should be a remote chance of her having asked herself why -- but this was Anna. She noted things, but she did not connect them. It was incredible.

"Not really, no."

"It didn't occur to you that Poppy might have known you were meeting someone she wasn't allowed to know about?" That was what she was thinking. Poppy had to have a reason to ask Anna about these things.

Anna shook her head. "How could she have known? We never told her." As far as she was concerned a person could not know anything she was not told.

Margaret wanted to say there were people who thought and who asked questions in order to find out more than they were told, but she could only come up with a very patronising sweet tone to say this in. Usually she went ahead and spoke anyway, but this time she refrained. Anna would look back at her blankly anyhow and the message would not get through. "I think she suspected something nevertheless, or else she would never have displayed any interest in whom you were meeting." Poppy was too self-centred for that. She only cared about Anna's friends in relation to herself.

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