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“Ah, and that didn’t go over well, coming from a recent graduate. When they refused, you took matters into your own hands.”
“Yes.”
“Were you right?”
“Yes. I exhumed the body with the help of… a friend.”
“Detective McCreadie.”
“A friend,” he says firmly.
“And you were caught with the body?”
“No, I was caught because I made a second error of hubris.”
“You told someone that you were right about the cause of death, which meant you’d dug up the body. They called it grave robbery and denied you your medical license.”
He doesn’t answer. I think he doesn’t want to discuss it further—even if he’s the one who brought it up. Then I notice his gaze, narrow eyed andfixed on a stand of trees. He lifts a hand, motioning for me to be careful. It’s only then that I spot a figure outlined against one of the trunks.
“It is only me, Duncan,” McCreadie says, stepping into the moonlight. “Testing those preternatural senses of yours.”
“Dare I ask why you are lurking around my sister’s gardens?” Gray says.
“Because it means I might not actually need to speak to her?”
Gray shakes his head.
McCreadie turns to me. “You have now met Lady Leslie. Your thoughts?”
“She’s a real piece of work.”
“I presume that is an insult.”
“The politest I can come up with. To her credit, she is interesting. In the same way as a venomous snake. I am intrigued in spite of myself. Doesn’t mean I want to spend more time with her than necessary.”
“You obviously received my note,” Gray says to McCreadie.
“And Duncan pulls us back on course,” McCreadie says. “Yes. I received it, and I agree it’s a difficult situation on multiple counts. Did you feel Annis wants me here because I know her? I have always gotten the impression she barely remembers my name.”
I glance at Gray.
McCreadie laughs under his breath. “Ah, she did not, which is why she couldn’t approach me directly.”
I glance toward the house. “She also wanted Dr. Gray to examine her husband.”
“I am not certainwhyAnnis insists on you being here,” Gray says. “So that she would have an ally among the police? Or because she has misinterpreted your good nature.”
“Mistaking it for ineptitude?” McCreadie says.
“Perhaps? But more likely she mistakes it for sympathy. You are my friend. She is my sister. You will be horrified that anyone could think she killed her husband.”
McCreadie bursts out laughing, the sound spooking an owl into a hoot of reproval.
“If Annis wanted someone to think she isn’t capable of murder,” I say, “she’d be better off with a cop who hasn’t spent a full minute in her actual presence.”
Gray sighs. “You are not wrong. I do not think my sisterincapable ofmurder. In this particular instance, though, Leslie’s death isn’t in her best interests, and so I doubt she is responsible.”
“Doubt,” I murmur. “Hardly a ringing endorsement.”
