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“Good evening, Mr. Monk,” she said as soon as she had been introduced. “I hope we shall be of assistance to you.” She smiled at him, but looked beyond him almost immediately, something else upon her mind. “Has anyone seen Ke

“Don’t wait,” Alastair said tartly. “He can catch up with us when he arrives, or go without. His behavior these days is totally thoughtless. I shall have to speak to him.” His face tightened. “One would have thought in the circumstances he would have shown a little family loyalty. It is more than time we found out who this woman is he is pursuing, and if she is suitable.”

“Don’t worry about it now, my dear,” Oonagh said quietly. “You have more than enough to attend to. I’ll speak with Ke

He looked at her with a flash of relief, then smiled. It altered his whole face. With a little imagination Monk could visualize the youth he had been and see something of the closeness between brother and sister. He glanced at Oonagh, and wondered if in fact she were the older, in spite of appearance to the contrary.

“Very well,” Deirdra said hastily. “McTeer informs me di

“Thank you,” he accepted, pleased that it was she who had asked him.

The meal was good, but not lavish, and Alastair presided at the head of a long, oak refectory table with gravity, as suited the occasion, but perfectly adequate courtesy. Ke

“Maybe I missed the explanation,” Quinlan began as the soup was cleared away and the beef served. “But what is it you have come to Edinburgh to accomplish, Mr. Monk? We know nothing of that wretched woman, beyond what she told us herself, which presumably is lies anyway.”

A shudder of anger crossed Oonagh’s face, but she controlled it almost immediately.

“You have no cause to say that, Quin,” she reproved. “Do you really suppose I would have sent Mother with someone who had no proof of her identity or her qualifications?”

Pure malice gleamed for an instant in Quinlan’s face, then he hid it beneath respect “I am quite sure, my dear Oonagh, that you would not knowingly have sent her anywhere at all with a murderess, but it seems indisputable that you did so unknowingly.”

“Oh that’s beastly!” Eilish burst out, glaring at him.

He turned towards her, smiling, completely unperturbed by her anger or her disgust. Monk wondered if he was used to it, or if he was truly indifferent. Did he take some perverse pleasure in shocking her? Perhaps it was the sharpest reaction she was capable of feeling, and to arouse that was better man mere apathy. Still, the nature of their relationship was probably irrelevant to Mary Farraline’s murder, and that was what mattered. All else was peripheral.

“My dear Eilish,” Quinlan said with mock concern. “It is undoubtedly tragic, but it is also unarguably true. Isn’t that why Mr. Monk is here? Mary was robust enough; she could have lasted for years. She was certainly not absentminded or clumsy, and anyone less suicidal I have never met.”

“You are u

Quinlan’s fair eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his brow.

“And what would be the delicate way of putting it?” he inquired.

Baird Mclvor glowered at him.

“The delicate way would have been to hold your tongue altogether, but since nobody thought to tell you so, it would be too much to expect of you.”

“Really-” Deirdra began, and was cut off by Oonagh’s decisive interruption.

“If we must quarrel over the di

“Of course it would,” Alastair said quickly. “And we shall do so. Pray tell us what you wish from us, Mr. Monk. I have no idea.”





“Perhaps we could begin with everyone giving as exact an account as they can of the day Miss Latterly was here,” Monk answered. “That would at least define more closely the times at which she had opportunity to put the brooch in her bag, or to tamper with the medicine cabinet.” As soon as he had said it he realized how he had betrayed himself. He felt his face burn and his stomach go cold.

There was a moment’s silence around the table.

Alastair frowned, glanced at Oonagh, then at Monk.

“What makes you think she did either of those things here in this house, Mr. Monk?”

Everyone was watching him, Deirdra with curiosity, Eilish with anxiety, Quinlan with contempt, Baird with guarded interest, Oonagh with humor and something close to pity.

Monk’s brain raced. How could he extricate himself from the trap he had sprung upon himself? He could think of no lie that would serve. They were waiting. He must say something!

“You think it was spontaneous?” he asked slowly, looking from one to another. “Which did she do first, steal the brooch or mix the poison?”

Deirdra winced.

Eilish let out a little grunt of distress.

Quinlan smiled at Monk. “You make my attempt of indelicacy look amateur,” he said pleasantly.

Eilish put her hands up to her face.

Baird shot Quinlan a look of venom.

“I imagine Mr. Monk is doing it for a purpose, Quin, not simply out of malice,” Deirdra said quietly.

“Quite,” Monk agreed. “How do you imagine it happened?” Unconsciously he looked at Oonagh. In spite of the fact that Alastair was the head of the family, and Deirdra the mistress of the house, he felt Oonagh was the strongest, that it was she who had taken what he imagined had been Mary’s place.

“I-I admit, I had not thought of it at all,” she said hesitantly. “It is not something I had-wished to think of.”

“Mr. Monk, is this really necessary?” Alastair’s nose wrinkled in distaste for the crudity of it. “If it is, perhaps we could discuss it in my study afterwards, away from the ladies?’

Monk had no gentlemanly delusions about the emotional strength of women. In a flash of memory astoundingly vivid he recalled women he had known in the past whose courage and endurance had held families together through illness, poverty, bereavement, social disgrace and financial ruin, and who were perfectly capable of keeping a stiff lip and steady eye in the face of all human weakness and extremity. When it came to raw nature, they were much less shockable than men.

“I would prefer to discuss it with the ladies present,” he said aloud, smiling around his teeth at Alastair. “It has been my experience that they are far more observant of people, especially other women, and their memories are usually excellent. I would be very surprised if they do not remember a great deal more of Miss Latterly than you do, for example.”

Alastair looked at him thoughtfully.

“I daresay you are right,” he conceded after several seconds. “Very well. But not this evening. I have some papers I have to read tonight. Perhaps you would care to come for luncheon on Sunday, after kirk? That would give you an opportunity to conduct whatever other inquiries you have to make in the area. I assume you will wish to see the house. And the servants, of course.”