Getting Involved

Section Thirty-Six

Someone called her name. Randall turned and saw Edwin Symonds coming towards her. "Yes?" She had just been wondering what she could do now, but here was her answer -- or it at least postponed taking a decision.

Lunch was an option, although she could just as well wait another hour or so. Then again, having lunch with Edwin was preferable to having it with one of the other residents. "Talk to me while I have some lunch?" she suggested and checked that her notebook was still in place in her pocket, in case Edwin would say something noteworthy.

The suggestion was fine with Edwin. They went into the dining room where the lunch buffet was set out and kept there for about two hours each afternoon, to give everyone the opportunity to eat when they wanted. Nigel had liked it that way and he had possibly been influenced by Poppy, who did not like her afternoon pastimes to be interrupted by something as tedious as a full meal.

He waited to speak until they had filled their plates. "I thought you might like to know that Sebastian just told me that last week he saw another will when he peeked into the study. I'm not sure I can believe him, because he said it had slipped his mind." Edwin's face expressed his disbelief very clearly. "How could it slip his mind? How could he be raging against the sum he inherited and not remember he saw another will in which he read he inherited more? At least, not remember it until some time later?"

"So you think it's not true?" Randall would have her doubts too, if it was as Edwin presented it. Sebastian should have spoken up right away.

"I doubt it very much, but I thought you should know." There was a tinier than tiny chance that there was some truth to it.

"Yes, thanks." She thought for a minute. It would not matter to Edwin personally if there was another will, but it might be important to Clarissa and Anna. That explained why he was interested. "We searched the study and didn't find another will. Does Sebastian have any clue where it might be?" That was probably a rhetorical question. Sebastian would not know, if his previous mental performances were anything to go by. He was an idiot.

"He doesn't even know if it was valid. He doesn't remember a thing, except that it was beneficial to him. This sounds incredible. What can we do with it? Nothing."

Randall agreed with Edwin that it was not much to go on. It was indeed hard to believe. She tried to imagine herself in Sebastian's place, taking a peek at the documents on Nigel's desk -- why? She would accidentally see a will there. In that case she supposed she would also look for her name -- quickly, if she was not supposed to be there and she did not know when Nigel was to return. However, she was the kind who would go looking again if she had caught an interesting glimpse. She would want to know all the particulars. "What was he doing there in the first place?" Sneaking around other people's studies was always suspicious.

"He didn't say." Edwin had not wondered about that yet. He had been concentrating on whether there had really been another will and what might have happened to it.

"It cannot have been something innocent. Why look into his uncle's study in the first place? If he didn't have anything bad in mind he wouldn't have had to leave so quickly either. And what a coincidence that he looked in the moment Nigel went to the loo! How did he even know where Nigel went unless he was lying in wait?" Randall tapped on the dining table with her pen. "I can only say this. He went looking for something that he's obviously reluctant to mention and he claims he found a will instead."

And he might have. Why would he invent this and draw attention to the fact that he had been snooping? She wrote that down and placed a big question mark behind it.

Randall decided that the best course of action was to ask Sebastian himself, despite her inexplicable antipathy towards the fellow. Although he had never said or done much, he made her skin crawl. Perhaps it was the impression he made of wanting to impress her.

She found him randomly pocketing snooker balls in the billiards room. She left the door open as a precaution. He might force his weaselly self on her.

The conversation was brief, as she did not want to stay with him longer than was absolutely necessary. He could not add anything useful to what Edwin had already told her, not even about his reasons for snooping. He had only been passing by the room when on a whim he had decided to look in. It was not forbidden, was it?

No, it was not, but Randall doubted that he had had nothing in mind. Perhaps Nigel had always left money lying around. Sebastian's financial situation was not good, but not so bad that small sums would not help him. That could be a reason for snooping and he would never admit to that voluntarily. She would leave it to Scott to pull that out of him.

Scott did not answer his phone, so she read all the statements again and checked the bank information they had been sent. Maybe she would find something they had overlooked so far.

Edwin, Arthur and Clarissa had no financial problems. Anna's bank account was regularly, but not outrageously supplemented by gifts from Clarissa. Margaret's income was variable and irregular, but she had decent savings. Sebastian had a minor deficit and Poppy did not have a bank account at all, save one whose resources were depleted a year ago. They had seen before that she appeared to use Nigel's credit cards, but it was hard to tell how often and how much.

Section Thirty-Seven

Edwin interrupted Randall once more when she was just working on a report about her talks with him and Sebastian. "Forgot one thing, but maybe Sebastian told you. Poppy's mother might have been staying here the day he saw the will. He forgot when she was here exactly. She only stayed one night because she had a row with Nigel."

That news required another chat with Sebastian and her shoulders sagged. Rows with Nigel were important, certainly if they involved Poppy's mother. She was not looking forward to approaching Sebastian again. There was something weak about him and he never knew anything. He did not have what it took to be likeable.

Of course he was also unable to tell her when Cherie Young had been here exactly. Randall wondered if the housekeeper knew more. She would know the date, but she might also know more about the row. They had not questioned her much until now, because she had been busy in the kitchen when the murder had been committed. However, for information on the days before the murder she might be a good source. Staff tended to be overlooked, but usually they were all ears and eyes.

The housekeeper was a capable woman of nearly sixty. She had plenty of experience in running large houses and dealing with obnoxious members of the family, but she was tactful enough not to vent her true feelings immediately. After a little prodding, however, she was willing to admit that Poppy and Sebastian were far worse than Nigel. "He was all right. I'm not sure the new owner will be like him." She did not reveal whether she knew who the new owner was going to be.

Randall wanted to know nevertheless. "Do you know who that will be?"

"I expect it will be one of his relatives."

That was spoken with such resignation that Randall concluded that the housekeeper was not going to like that. "And you don't like them?" The only two she had met were Poppy and Sebastian, but if they were representative of the rest she could imagine that the housekeeper was not looking forward to getting any of them as her new employer.

"They have no idea what it takes to run a household, for instance. They expect they can bring friends without notice and then they expect their friends to be given decent meals, when it's really impossible to buy food in the middle of the night. Mr. Hargreaves always gave me an advance warning when he was bringing guests, not to mention that he didn't expect me to get up during the night to cook."

"His relatives are unreasonably demanding?"

"Quite."

She forgot about her objective when something else occurred to her. "I'm interested in finding out whether there was a newer will than the one dated a year ago. Do you know anything about that?" It was a wild guess, but nobody else in the house appeared to have been asked as a witness. Nigel might well have turned to his housekeeper.

She surprised Randall by nodding. "I was called to sign one as a witness about a week ago."

Randall was excited. Several thoughts shot through her mind at once. She tried to deal with them one by one without forgetting any. The DCI always told her to ask one question at a time and the rest would come later, but she always feared that she would forget them. "When was this exactly? Did you get to see what was in it?" And she should preferably not become visibly excited, which was easy for Scott to say. For his sake she hoped he would at least be able to become invisibly excited.

"It was on the Thursday, I think. And I didn't see the contents."

Randall would have peeked. "But it would have possibly enlightened you as to who your next boss was going to be."

"Mr. Hargreaves had covered it with a blank sheet. I didn't count on Mr. Hargreaves' death," the housekeeper replied calmly. "I was older than he was. I fully expected to be retired by the time he died. Who was going to inherit the house then didn't matter to me."

That made sense. "Did you know if there was any reason to change his will so suddenly?"

"It was not my business to wonder."

What was he doing drinking beer in the middle of the day? Iain Scott suddenly wondered. He looked at his glass that had quickly been refilled after he had automatically given a nod to the landlady. He was working, even though it was Saturday. Still, while he was here he might as well have some lunch. "Can I have a sandwich like that?" he asked, indicating the sandwich Anna still had not eaten. It looked good.

"Of course, sir," said the landlady helpfully. "Are you staying at the manor?"

He wondered if he was going to get free food if he said yes. "Yes, I am." The primary reason for her friendliness was her thirst for knowledge. He wondered whether it would make a difference if he turned out to be the detective in charge of the investigation and not a guest. He decided not to reveal that. Police have drinks with female suspects. Yes. That was a fine situation.

Anna finally made some progress on the sandwich.

"Horrible, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Hughes in a sympathetic tone calculated to draw out interesting revelations.

It was not horrible; it was his job and it was not yet time to quit. He did not say either, but smiled understandingly.

"I hope they catch whoever did it."

He hoped that too and he hoped he would be the one doing the catching. As nice as it was that Margaret assisted, he did not really want her to solve his case for him. He hoped she was not in some corner selling her story to a tabloid, but on second thought he knew he would not have to be concerned about that. He would probably only need to feel some concern if the tabloid reporter was a devilishly handsome man. But even then Margaret could be trusted, he supposed. Tempted though he was to look over his shoulder, he did not.

Mrs. Hughes moved away when customers on the other end of the bar begged for her attention. Anna leant towards him. "I'd better not call you Inspector, because she does not seem to know."

"No," he agreed.

"When can we go home?"

"Possibly on Monday." He thought they might have made sufficient progress by then. It would in all likeliness be enough to release the innocent guests. He could not ask them to stay around forever. There were some he was not loath to part from either.

There was still the question of Anna's father. She did not know who it was. When the truth came out she would be surprised, he thought, and perhaps angry at having been kept in the dark. For a moment he considered the option that she had already found out and that she had killed Nigel out of anger. That would work -- for some. It remained to be seen if this was plausible in Anna's case. She did not seem the type that became angry.

But, as with everything, they might be wrong there. Someone was lying. It did not have to be the one who most appeared to be. Everything pointed to Poppy at the moment, but as much as Poppy was pointing at Margaret, someone might be pointing to Poppy.

Scott realised it made no sense for Poppy to point at someone else without a reason. He would be overestimating people if he thought that someone could manipulate Poppy into framing Margaret. He should look at what was there and not at what was not. It would be too far-fetched to think Anna might be framing Poppy.

He might not get a useful answer, but he could still ask the question. "Anna, do you have any idea who your father is?"

"Maggie asked me the same. Is it important?" Anna was surprised at hearing the same question twice in one afternoon. She did not know why they asked.

It figured that Margaret had been there before him. He almost let out a sigh. "It might be. Do you?"

"No, I've never known."

"Have you never wanted to know?" He would be curious in her position and he would have asked questions from a young age. At some point he would have received an answer and he would have been younger than Anna when that happened. She did not appear to have asked.

Anna seemed embarrassed to find out everybody thought she had never given the idea any thought at all. "Of course I have. Mum said it was all right to fantasise, but not to think it was actually true. She said she would have told me if she had thought it useful. Now she only told me what he was like and not his name."

"What he was like?" Scott frowned. He wondered how much honesty had been involved in telling Anna what her father was like. Later on Clarissa must have reconsidered her reticence, because she had even set up meetings between the two with a view to telling Anna the truth.

Anna nodded. "Yes, so I would know there was no point in thinking I was missing out on anything."

"But..." Scott tried to imagine it. Apparently the image Clarissa had sketched to her daughter had not been completely positive. What about the other side of the coin? "I'd want to know if some woman out there had my baby." Nigel had known about Anna, he supposed, so perhaps he would want to know that the child also knew about him. It would only be fair, although Nigel did not seem to have protested against Clarissa's wishes that it remain a secret. He had left it all to her.

Anna shrugged rather indifferently, as if she did not care about her father's feelings. "Mum said he didn't." And she believed her mother. Why would she lie?

He tried another tactic. "Does anyone else know who your father is? Someone who know your mother when she was younger, maybe?"

That question surprised Anna even more. "Someone else? Apart from my mother?"

"Yes."

"How? Why would she tell them and not me?" That did not make sense to her. "No, I don't think so. Why would my mother tell them?" She could not think who would know either.

Yes, why indeed? But Clarissa might not have told anyone. Someone might have found it out by accident or Nigel could have revealed it for reasons as yet unknown. He might have thought it would humble Poppy a bit to hear she had a sister, when it would have enraged her.

It might be interesting to hear what Poppy would say if he told her he knew she had a sister. How well could she act? He might give that a try after he finished his lunch. On the other hand, he should not be too rash and first consider whether such a thing might put Anna in danger.

"Things that happened to make him change his will?" the housekeeper said when Randall's question was repeated. "I don't know if it's useful. At the time I did not connect the two events. He'd had a row with his ex-wife not long before, but I wouldn't have thought she was in his will in the first place, so I don't know if it was related at all. I never wondered about it." She was wondering about it now, however. "I suppose I assumed rich men changed their wills frequently because it gave them a kick to see how much they had to distribute, so I never thought about it."

Randall did not know any rich men personally. She could not shed any light on the matter at all. "Maybe. Still, we have to look into the matter of the argument with the ex-wife. You never know. Which day was that? Do you remember?"

"Wednesday. She left immediately. It was too quiet for her here anyway, so she wouldn't have stayed a full week. No admirers, you see. She doesn't come often, but I've noticed she always stays longer if there are people she likes and she tends to stay one or two night only if there aren't many men."

Randall pulled out her notebook and wrote down Wednesday. "Well, Sebastian was here."

"But one does not jilt Mr. Hargreaves and then take Sebastian, no matter how many years have passed."

That was something Randall could relate to, even if she had never known Nigel.

Section Thirty-Eight

Margaret wondered how from a sunny morning it could have become a rainy afternoon and how from an easy week it could have become so hectic. Too much happened on one day. Too many changes. Her fan had been scared off when she had screamed and she enjoyed some solitude now. The suddenly steadily falling rain ensured that the chances of being disturbed again were slim.

She sat hunched, clutching her drink between two hands. It was his fault. He had pointed out to her that she was in the wrong. Of course. She knew that, but she could not help herself. It was very annoying of him to know when she was not being good and to say something about it immediately. And why did that something always have to be so true?

Perhaps she should see this from the positive side. Margaret thought hard. She could become a better person if she listened. How horrible. She knew self-improvement ought to be her ultimate goal in life, but she did not know if she wanted to change what she was. A good and sweet Margaret would be a terrible bore. And who was Iain anyway that he could comment on what she was like? He was hardly the picture of perfection himself.

Or was he? That required some more hard thinking. Well, no. He was not. He should have been more distant and aloof. Professional was the word. Though it was very useful for her that he allowed her so much freedom, he really should not. What a thing to find fault with. She shuffled her feet on the ground in mild annoyance, then kicked the legs of her chair in some more vehement irritation.

What other faults did he have? She could not think of any instantly, but she was certain that he must have them. He was human, after all. And he had not come to her aid just now when she was being besieged by some irritating youngster who was bothered by his hormones. She was not very old herself, but that did not mean any kid freshly out of his teens should be allowed to approach her and practically drool all over her for no reason. She had dressed conservatively not to inspire any lust in Iain, but the first juvenile male who crossed her path was completely immune to her attire.

What would Ailsa think if she brought someone home? No, she could never do that. She had to be picky for her own sake as well as for Ailsa's. But enough of men. Most of them were not worthy of such lengthy reflection. Back to the case. She took a sip of her beer for inspiration, but she never liked it much and she only grimaced.

She suspected who had done it, but she had no proof and she saw no way of getting any at this moment. Just because something sounded plausible did not mean it had really happened that way and for those reasons. What a frustrating job it must be to come across such things all the time. She did not know how Iain could stand it -- or did he always solve every case? Perhaps he simply got all suspects to confess their crimes, without there being enough evidence to convict them otherwise.

Iain did not think they were at an impasse. While there might be little to go on at the moment, careful and patient research always yielded results. He was here at the pub, but at the same time Randall might be finding things out at the house. He remembered his phone and checked it. She had indeed been trying to reach him. That was what happened if you set it to vibrate and did not keep it nearby. In the racket in the pub he would not be able to hear her, so he excused himself to Anna and looked for the door.

Outside it was quieter and he walked towards the side of the building where there was a covered terrace where not many people were sitting. He paced back and forth between the chairs and tables until Randall answered. She was taking her time.

"Yes, sir?" she finally spoke.

"I saw you phoned." He also saw that towards the back of the terrace, where the roof ended, the chairs and tables continued around the corner into the garden and there were no people there at all by the look of it. It would be much better to phone from there, even if it meant he would get wet. He did not want to be overheard.

"Yes, sir. I allowed Clarissa to leave to get the DNA test results."

He did not hear that properly because Margaret was sitting around the corner under a large parasol, staring down pensively into her beer. He wondered if there was something in it. "I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"Clarissa has gone home to get us the DNA results. I thought that'd be all right with you. Nobody else knows."

"Er, yes." He looked at Margaret, who was now staring at him with a very troubled face. "Anything else?" he wanted to move on. Of course it was all right if Clarissa had gone home. Perhaps Randall wanted to hear he would have like to accompany her, but this trip was on a different day and for a different purpose. It was not at all like Margaret's trip.

"Sebastian told Edwin some interesting things." She paused for effect.

"Oh, did he?" He drew a chair near to Margaret's, under the parasol. The chair was wet, but he did not care. She had taken to staring into her glass again. He wondered what was wrong, but he could not ask because he had to listen to Randall first. It was not his habit to give his thoughts directly and over the phone, so he thanked her for the information and said he would be back at the house shortly so they could discuss it further.

Margaret had been looking at him stealthily. She suppressed the question she wanted to ask. Perhaps he would be so good as to tell her even if she did not ask.

"Randall found out some interesting things," he began, figuring she would want to know.

She pressed the beer into his hands and got up. "You should not be doing me the courtesy of telling me," she snapped. Never mind that she had wanted it, but now that it was happening she felt uncomfortable with it. He should not be so good. No doubt he would tell her exactly what was wrong with her too.

"What's wrong, Margaret?"

"Why don't you tell me? Don't you know? I thought you always knew what went on in my head and what was wrong with it," she said rather bitterly. She was no longer an independent and untouchable entity. Iain could read her far too easily.

He did not know. "I only see what is obvious." Sometimes it was very obvious what went on in her mind and sometimes it was not. By no means would he claim to have complete insight into her character. She did not have to be afraid of that. It was rather interesting that she seemed to be frightened. Randall had already said Margaret was frightened of him.

"And this is not?"

"No. But I'd like to know if you know. For next time."

"Well, I don't." She did not even know what he was talking about.

He still had the beer and wondered if he was supposed to drink it or if she was going to want it back in a second. He had no idea. How could she possibly think he could read her mind? "Does that bother you?" Obviously she would like to read her own mind and she was not quite succeeding. It was not his fault.

"Of course it bothers me!" She sat back down again. It was also bothering her that he could always stay so friendly. That was something she could not always manage if she was being harassed. "Perhaps you could tell me why I was being absolutely rude to a young man bothering me?"

"Perhaps because he was bothering you?" That was the evident thing he could think of. He had no idea why she had problems with being rude all of a sudden. She had never had any qualms about it before.

Margaret glared. "Do you have the be the epitome of sense?" It was frustrating that she had given him the answer without realising it.

"I'm that only in comparison to less sensible people." He raised the glass. "For instance, I have no idea if you want this back, if you'll be angry if I drink it, or if you'll be angry if I don't."

"I ... really don't care. Please drink it. It might make you less perfect to do such an unmannered thing."

Iain snorted. "Since when do you care about manners?" And since when had he been perfect? He was not aware of having reached that status or of even wanting to reach it.

"I don't, but I do mind that you never do anything wrong, except telling me about the case, which is actually good because I want you to." That sounded as silly as some other things she had said before, so she might as well lose all sense of embarrassment and be honest.

"Hmm," he mused. "That's indeed a bit of dilemma -- you want me to and yet don't like me for it." And it implied that she wanted to like him.

"I did not say I did not like you for it," Margaret said immediately. "You know what I mean."

"No, I don't," he answered evenly.

She did not believe him. "Now don't act stupid just to placate me."

"As if I would. Who says I want to placate you? Haven't I given enough evidence of not placating you?" He referred to his sending her away.

"So, you don't know what you want either." Somehow this seemed to satisfy her. It made her feel less lonely and stupid.

"I do, but I don't think I have to share it with you," he said with a smile. "It can be achieved in other ways."

"Evil man." She took the glass back from him and drank some. Then she gave it back. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?" Despite her attitude, she did want to know everything he could tell her about the case.

"If you want to hear it, I'll tell you. If it makes you feel I am evil for being too good, or some other such nonsensical notion, I shall refrain." Iain smiled, because he could almost tell what her reaction would be. She wanted to be told.

Margaret showed a very predictable glare, but it was tempered by the sense of humour that shone through. She could say she did not really think him evil, but she thought he might be well aware of that and telling him would be rather superfluous. They had better move on to the really important business.

Section Thirty-Nine

Some time later Anna disturbed them. "Er, excuse me?" she called, not wanting to intrude. The rain had stopped and should they give her some acknowledgement, she would advance towards them and tell them what she had to say.

"Oops," said Iain, who had quite forgotten about Anna. He had left her all alone at the bar because he had gone to phone, but he found out he had never gone back. He looked guilty.

"I thought that, since neither of you paid anything yet, I'd pay because I wanted to leave," she said, coming closer.

"Oops," Margaret said too. She felt in her pocket for some money, but Anna waved it off. "I didn't stay away on purpose." Just how long had she been sitting here listening to Iain? It could not have been very long, unless they had repeated themselves a few times, because they had not reached much of a conclusion. Not one that would hold up in court or in academics anyway. But it had been fun to theorise.

"I know. He sent you away and then he went to phone, but it was all taking a bit long and someone came to sit next to me that I really didn't like so much."

"Not the guy with the spots!" Margaret exclaimed.

Anna pulled a doubtful face. "Probably. He said he spoke to you first."

"I was rude to him with no effect!" She could still become indignant about that, because it was completely incomprehensible. He should have disappeared instantly.

"Oh, he didn't mention that. He only wanted to know if you were married."

"And?" Margaret wondered if the fellow had plans. Or worse.

"I said you were."

"Great. Now it will be in next week's edition that I'm secretly married." She shuddered, imagining the headlines already, especially the less than complimentary ones.

"I'm sorry." Anna looked scared of having done something wrong. "I thought it would help. He did go away. And I didn't say to whom." But her eyes flickered towards the Inspector. He did not give her a very frightening look in reply however.

Margaret told herself to be relieved. "That would have been quite something! But don't worry. I'm not interesting enough to write about anyway, so...are we all going back to the house then?"

They came to the brook with the broken plank, as Margaret had something to show and she had led them there. "Someone broke this," she said to Iain, who had followed her without asking why they were taking this route. "Recently." It might be significant.

"I did," he answered unexpectedly. "Early this morning."

She looked disappointed. So it was not significant at all. When had that happened? "Not as early as I ran past it."

"Apparently not." He felt sorry for her. It might have been a good discovery if only he had not been the one to break the plank.

"Well, what did you do? Are you that heavy? Did you jump on it?" She had crossed it numerous times without it having shown any signs of bending. Iain was not twice as heavy as she was. It should not have cracked under his weight.

"I was running." He had quite possibly jumped too hard.

"Did you get wet?" she asked right away.

"A bit." He wondered if she liked that. Should she not be more concerned about the possibility that he had been hurt?

"I was hoping it would have been a murderer or a journalist who broke the plank. Too bad it was you." After a short run she jumped over the brook easily. "Can you still do it, Anna? The worst that can happen to you is getting wet."

"Maybe. It's not so bad if I got wet now." Anna measured the distance she would have to jump. Margaret had to be a professional long jumper. "I'm not that good at jumping."

Margaret had witnessed that earlier and she made no comment. She was surprised when Iain lifted Anna up quite effortlessly and deposited her on the other side of the brook, thereby getting his own feet and trouser bottoms wet. She bit back a comment. Here she was being a good and independent, and not to mention athletic woman and the first helpless weakling that crossed the man's path was actually rewarded for it. It was unbelievable. She pulled a face.

It did not go unnoticed. Iain saw her expression and reflected on it. Margaret did not like girls who could not jump, did she? But did she not realise it was far more efficient to lend a hand and save time? Not everyone could sail over with the proper technique. "Efficiency is my motto," he said to her in a low voice.

She only partly agreed. "It cheats you out of stuff at times. Unless..." Unless he had liked carrying Anna. In that case he did not get cheated out of anything.

"Unless it gives you more time to pursue other stuff, wouldn't you say?" He wondered if Margaret would have liked to be carried over the water. She would never ask for such a thing and he would have assumed that she would not like it if he asked if he needed to carry her. He expected that she would rather fall in than lower herself to that point.

"Such as?"

"The case."

"Mind that you don't say that with your accent. People might mistake that for something else." As much as she wanted to bite off her tongue, it made him laugh.

"The things that cross your mind!" he replied. "But..." He thought he would tease her a bit -- and possibly himself.

"But what?" she said very quickly. She had to know what he meant.

Section Forty

"But what?" Margaret asked again when she did not get an answer speedily enough. She was immensely curious about what he had been about to say. Her mind was filling in the blanks automatically, but she did not know if she was right because she did not know whether he had understood what she had been thinking of. He had not asked her what she meant, only remarked something about the things that crossed her mind.

She would be the first to admit that the things that crossed her mind were odd these days. Apparently she was not yet too old for this nonsense. On the bright side, she would not long be past it if Ailsa began to exhibit this behaviour in a few years' time, but hopefully that would be put off until she had moved out and she was too old to involve her mother.

No kisses on the case. He did not think that would work. "The two are incompatible, but I was going to say..." Again he trailed off. He knew the gist of what he was going to say, but he needed to hit on the right words. His words had to be just right. Margaret was not exactly open to deeper friendships or willing to give relationships a try for the sake of it. Seeing her before him, he understood that perfectly, but he also understood that there would be something. That was inevitable.

"Now you're torturing me and it's not fair." Margaret did not care that Anna was nearby. Anna would not talk. She would not judge and it was doubtful whether she would even think. The conversation might even go completely over her head. The two were incompatible. It was interesting what he could have to modify about that.

"When the case is over people may mistake my words all they like." He would not care very much about the conclusions they would draw then.

"When you're no longer professionally involved, you mean?" She supposed that would change matters significantly. If he continued to see her afterwards, the end of the case was something to look forward to. If he had no intention of pursuing anything, she should hope for extra time to change his mind. After all, she told herself, only if she knew him better could she decide if he was good.

"Exactly." This was a murder case. He could not allow himself to end up in a compromising position that might be abused by people with less honourable intentions. He had to remain objective during the investigation. People could say he was not capable enough to lead this case and the murderer might go free.

"Is that the only thing?" What would happen if there were no case? "Do you mean I won't have to pretend I can't jump over streams in order to...er...?" She lowered her voice somewhat so as not to insult Anna. She was sure Anna had not been helpless on purpose. In fact, Anna had not even said anything. It had been Margaret's own words of encouragement that had made Iain lift Anna because he had deduced that she had a problem, which was painfully ironic.

Iain snorted. "In order to what?" He could not imagine Margaret pretending to be helpless. He had seen her frightened, but she would not feign something like that. He could not visualise her standing on one side of the stream asking to be helped across.

"In order to receive some attention as a female?" Margaret did not know what she meant precisely, which she supposed was rather silly. Receiving attention as a female was not the same as soliciting it. To be seen as a woman was different from being seen as a person. She did not want everyone to view her as a woman, but sometimes, in some cases, by some people, it would be very desirable. Just because she knew how to jump did not mean she was not a woman, but that was the kind of logic she would rather not explain to anyone because it was hardly impressive.

"I've never thought you a male." He wondered what she wanted. Receiving attention as a female, whatever that might be. She would not have appreciated it at all if he had offered to carry her over the brook. He would think it spoke of doubt about her abilities, apart from the fact that he would have to touch her, of which she did not seem to be very fond. But apparently even stubborn types like Margaret could change their minds, although he supposed it was merely a matter of getting used to something.

"Never?" she asked with hopeful smugness. It was always flattering to hear he had been aware of her since their first meeting. She remembered he had asked her if she was Miss or Mrs. That was a good sort of interest.

He feigned reflection. "Well, apart from a brief moment in the beginning..." He knew she would be able to handle that kind of teasing.

She could. "You thought I was a man?"

"Not exactly." He was implying it, but he had never thought anything of the sort. That she was female had never been in question.

"I would have doubted your powers of observation! Don't I look terribly female?" She had all the attributes, albeit not openly on display.

"Female, yes. Terrible, no. Even though Poppy and Randall rather made you out to be." Randall had been surprised when Margaret had not been terrible.

"That's not surprising, given my image. But I'm not so bad, am I?" She had never before had any cause to wonder or care.

Iain took Anna and Margaret into the study with him, because he did not know what else to do with them to keep them safe. He could not allow them to wander and get separated, even if there was only a small chance that some harm might befall them.

The new discoveries might imply that Anna was in danger now too. He still did not know precisely why Margaret was in danger and why someone had come to her room. They could only assume that the murderer thought she had come by important information. Anna did not know anything, but because of her parentage she was an important obstacle. He could not tell her that, though. Clarissa should be the one to tell her daughter about her father, not the police. Until Clarissa returned they would have to be a little circumspect about that, unless it became absolutely unavoidable to refer to the relationship .

The study was kept locked when the police were not there, because of all the information accumulating there now. It had become forbidden ground for the guests. To see so many people in there might be surprising to some.

Poppy peeked her head around the corner and looked at them all rather suspiciously, not understanding why they were gathered there. "Anna? Are you coming to the pool?" She looked more at the others and at what was on the desk than at Anna.

That was not a desirable course of action. It might not be the pool she had in mind, but somewhere else, less safe. Iain spoke up before Anna could answer. She would undoubtedly say yes to the request. "I'm sorry. We need to ask Miss Edmondson some questions. She can't come with you. Perhaps later." As long as they did not know whether they could trust Poppy, they should start from the assumption that they could not. It was better to be unnecessarily careful than to find Anna's body somewhere because they had been too trusting, especially if it looked more and more like Nigel had been murdered because of Anna.

"Since when has Maggie been with the police then?" Poppy inquired impertinently, referring to Margaret's presence. She did not see how that was required. "Can I listen in as well?"

Someone who did not have a guilty conscience would not care who were there and who were not. Iain went to stand directly before her, his arms crossed. She was annoying and he did not have to answer her question, yet he did not want to give Margaret the impression that he could not handle this. "Are you suddenly scared, Miss Hargreaves, of all the things you've ever told Miss Maxwell?" She ought to know that Margaret did not need to hear very much to jump to conclusions. Very little would do. It was a bit academic whether her conclusions were always correct or acceptable, but it was a fact that she would almost always reach some conclusion.

Poppy narrowed her eyes. She was not going to admit anything of the sort and she had not told Margaret that much, so she believed she was safe. "So what is Maggie doing here?" She would really hate to find out that Margaret was with the police after all, on some undercover mission. The way Margaret sat on the desk pointed to something authoritative anyway.

He smiled politely. "You will never know, unless she chooses to tell you afterwards." He hoped that was effective. It did not sound very impressive. He would almost look at Margaret to see what she thought of it.

Poppy did not answer and went away. Iain closed the door behind her, after making sure that the girl was indeed gone. He did not want her to listen at the door, a possibility that he could by no means exclude.

"What questions do you want to ask me?" Anna asked now that the door was closed. "You both asked me lots of questions at the pub already." She looked a bit afraid of not being able to give them any more information. "I don't know anything else."

"That's all right, Anna," Margaret answered in a reassuring voice. "I expect he just wants to keep an eye on you." She was still not as comfortable with that as she rationally told herself she ought to be. Perhaps she was jealous.

"I don't want to scare you unduly, Anna, but you did inherit quite a bit of money from Nigel and we've heard that at least two people here didn't like that much. I don't want them to bother you until we've sorted out the question of the inheritance," Iain explained. That was adequate enough without being the entire truth. He would be frightening her out of her wits if he said he could not trust Poppy not to harm her. After all, the girl still believed Poppy was one of her friends. She might very well be, but there were definite suspicions against her now.

"But...I don't understand." Anna looked confused. "Who didn't like it and why would they bother me?"

Margaret was going against Clarissa's wishes here, but that could not be helped. At some point in time people really had to point the harsher realities of life out to this girl. "Poppy thinks she should have got all the money and Sebastian thinks he should have got more than you." While under the current will they would not need to dispose of Anna, one or both of them might know about the newer will and they might fear it would turn up again at some point.

She tried to explore this possibility. There would only be sense in harming Anna if they did not know where the newer will was, but they were aware of its existence. If they had destroyed the newer will they could leave Anna alone because nothing was ever going to change. For Sebastian, at least. Poppy, with her limited knowledge of legal matters, might have some fears about Anna getting half her inheritance if her parentage became known. Margaret did not know how that would work out legally either. At any rate, she did not suppose Iain would consider setting Anna up as a bait. He would never do that, considering that he already kept her here.

She wondered if he would set her up as a bait. If she could be sure it would turn out all right, it might even be worth it to find out how it was to be consoled by the DCI after a narrow escape. In all likeliness the man could not be provoked into showing some emotion in any other way.

Anna was still confused. "Why do they hold that against me? It was Nigel's choice." She did not see how anyone could blame her for it.

Iain nodded. "Good point, but people aren't always sensible. Someone even murdered Nigel. That wasn't a sensible thing to do either."

"Do you know why?"

"It's beginning to become clear," he answered. "We find out a little more every hour. Your mother, by the way, went home to collect something we might be able to use as evidence."

"But she didn't do it?" Anna looked even more confused and frightened now. She wondered, because Margaret had told her to, how her mother could be of any use to the police. Contrary to what Margaret seemed to expect, she could not come up with an answer.

"We don't think so."

Randall had been listening, but she had also been studying some documents. She now saw an opportunity to catch the DCI's attention. "While I was waiting for you, sir, I received the results of the forensic tests. Do you want to have a look?"

Of course he wanted that, but first he had to arrange something else. He looked at Margaret. He wondered if she could keep Anna occupied in the meantime, but that was a question she would likely not appreciate. She would think it a task for females who could not think on their own, who must be kept away from difficult intellectual matters and so forth. Besides, he had already asked her once before if she could look after Anna. She might think it was all she was good for and that was not true.

"I take it that stare means I am not allowed to look?" she asked in resignation. She had been testing out scenarios in her mind to see which escape from death would be most likely to elicit some sort of shocking reaction from Iain. Fortunately, after imagining some scenes and feeling she might blush, she knew none of them were going to happen.

He was cautious. Resignation was suspicious and he had no idea what might follow. She might be gathering all her strength for an attack, as silent as she had been for the past minute. "Ideally, no." That meant he was going to tell her no and she was free to ignore it, because she would consider herself free to ignore it. He did not know why he did not find this characteristic irksome.

"We're not living in an ideal world." She smiled, because his use of the word ideally suggested that he was not really going to say no, or at least that he was unable to persist in saying it. She liked a man with self-knowledge.

Iain sighed and turned. He was unable to fight her. She could have a look if she wanted. It was not Margaret he was concerned about, though. It was Anna. She should have understood that. She probably had, but her curiosity would have been too strong to care about other people's sensibilities.

"Right," said Randall. She no longer asked herself any questions about Scott's methods and exceptions. They were no longer unpredictable where Margaret was concerned.

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