The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [66]
“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.”
“Thank you. That is most thoughtful of you,” Monk accepted. “With your permission I shall do both, perhaps tomorrow. I should also like to speak with the family physician. And I should be delighted to dine with you on Sunday. What time would be suitable?”
“A quarter to one,” Alastair replied. “Now, to speak of something pleasanter. Have you been to Edinburgh before, Mr. Monk?”
* * *
Monk returned to the Grassmarket deep in thought, trying to