AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“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 Kenneth. I daresay he did not like to bring her here just at the moment.”
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 dinner is served. Let us go through to the dining room. Mr. Monk?”
“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. Kenneth did not appear, and Monk saw no sign of Hector Farraline, whom Hester had described. Perhaps he was too inebriated to attend.
“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 than 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 unnecessarily indelicate,” Alastair said with a frown. “Please remember you are in the presence not only of ladies, but ladies newly bereaved.”
Quinlan’s fair eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his brow.
“And what would be the delicate way of putting it?” he inquired.
Baird McIvor 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 dinner table”—she waved a slender hand—“let it at least be over something that matters. Miss Latterly brought excellent re
ferences with her, and I have no doubt whatever that she was in the Crimea with Miss Nightingale and that as a nurse she was both skilled and diligent. I can only assume she succumbed to a momentary temptation, brought about by some circumstance in her own life of which we know nothing, and that when it was too late, she panicked. It may conceivably even have been remorse.” She shot a quick glance at Monk, her eyes wide and bright. “Mr. Monk is here to make sure that the case against her is perfect and her defense counsel can spring no surprises upon us. I think it would be in all our best interests for us to assist him as we may.”
“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.
