Skinner’s round

Yet even as the thought spoke itself, he pondered on his own inherited comfort, his investment and his pension provision. The really big difference, though, is that today, so does a guy like you!'

A silver car stood on the red gravel concourse which lay between Bracklands and its lawn.

Two men leaned against it and from afar, he recognised them. He drew the Frontera up parallel to the new Mondeo, a few yards away, and stepped out.

He took the few paces to close the space between himself and Andy Martin, both literal and symbolic, with a smile spreading across his face and his hand stretched out in greeting.

Martin pushed himself off the Mondeo's rounded side and came to meet him halfway.

Normally, Ski

Instead he stood his ground, motionless, as the fist smacked into his chin. He rocked back on his heels, but stayed on his feet… and the smile never left his face. Neil Mcllhe

Ski

Eventually, Ski

He slapped his hands together. 'Right, gentlemen. What have we got inside?'

I did as you asked, boss,' said Martin. 'I told the Marquis, but no one else. He says that they're serving breakfast in the dining room from seven-forty-five this morning, and that all the house guests should be up by then.'

Ski

The three strode towards the vast house and up the wide stone steps which led to its doorway.

Light shone through the morning gloom from several of the upper windows and all along the ground floor to the right of the entrance. Martin pointed in that direction. The Marquis's suite is along at the far end. It's been wheelchair-adapted. That's where I saw him. I don't know where Lady Kinture sleeps, but that was certainly not a woman's bedroom. Plenty of Paco Raba

The simple plastic bell-push was something of an anticlimax, but the echoing sound of its chime was impressive. The door was answered after a minute by a small middle-aged man in a dark suit. 'Hello again, Mr Burton,' said Martin to the butler. 'We are expected back. This is Assistant Chief Constable Ski

`Yes, sir. The Marquis told me to show you to the dining room, and to serve you with breakfast. Please follow me.' He ushered them into the house, and into a wide entrance hall. It was floored in yellowish marble and a stairway of the same stone, its crimson carpet held in place by heavy brass ru

Twelve people sat around the long dining table. 'Morning Ski

At his shout, ten heads swivelled round in surprise to stare at the trio framed in the doorway.

Arthur Highfield looked tense and nervous.

The butler showed Ski

Nakamura-San. Mr Weekes. Mr Wyman. Mr Morton. Mr Highfield. Lord Kinture. Lady Kinture. Mr Atkinson. Mr M'tebe. Mr Urquhart. Senor Cortes. Yes, that seems to be everyone.' A maid placed a huge platter before him, piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, black pudding and mushrooms. Kylie, his baby-sitter of the previous evening, filled his cup with thick black coffee.

`What about Mr Masur?' said Susan Kinture, a puzzle-line creasing her forehead.

I hadn't forgotten him, Sue. He's been detained elsewhere. We've just left him in fact.' He stared down the table towards the Marquis, who was biting his lip with some vigour.

Darren Atkinson leaned forward and looked along. 'What's that, Bob? Detained? Are you saying that Masur killed Michael White?'

Ski

Susan Kinture gave a small shriek. 'You're kidding,' said Atkinson. Highfield went even whiter. Gregory, Weekes, Wyman, M'tebe, Urquhart and Cortes all stared at him in blank astonishment. Tiger Nakamura looked simply bewildered. Ski

`Sorry, Darren. I wish I was kidding. I don't like looking at bodies at any time of the day, but just before breakfast is absolutely my least favourite time.'

`But he can't be dead,' said Atkinson. 'I mean, we all saw him just a few hours ago.'

`Believe me, my friend, if my wife says he's dead, then don't look forward to him buying you your next drink. And my wife isn't in any doubt.'

`What happened? Did he have a heart attack walking back?'

He snorted. 'It was a bloody weird one if he did. Look, I don't want to go into the details just now. What I need to know is where everyone in this room was at the time he died. That means between leaving the clubhouse and around two a.m.'

He glanced at McIlhe

`Let's begin at the clubhouse. After Sarah and I left in our taxi, what happened, and how did the party disperse? Lord Kinture, perhaps you could tell us?'

The Marquis nodded, and pulled himself a little closer to the table. let me think.' He scratched his eagle's-wing temple and gathered his thoughts. 'OK, the Murano party first. They're all based at North Berwick Marine. We couldn't put them all up here. They're hosting the celebrities too, all the politicians, singers and stuff. They went back to the hotel by bus, not long after you left. The others, the local people, all drifted off around then too.' He waved a languid hand at his table companions. 'That just left this lot.

`We all had another drink, while we waited for the estate bus and for my chauffeur with my battle-wagon. While we were doing that, Morton here and Masur had a shouting match.'

Ski

`To be fair to Morton,' said the Marquis, `Masur was rubbing his nose in it over the Tiger business. Man was bloody rude, being the sort of Aussie that gives Aussies a bad name.' He nodded down the table. `Savin' your presence, Sandro.'

`That's all right,' said the golfer. 'I was downright ashamed of him. In fact, I told him that if he didn't shut it he'd be losing a client while he was gaining one.'

Anyway,' the Marquis continued, 'the bus and the Range Rover arrived just then. I didn't want Morton and Masur to be going at it on the bus, so I insisted that Morton travel back to Bracklands with me. We loaded up and we left.'