The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [84]
“There isn’t any doubt, Uncle Hector,” Quinlan said irritably. “If you were a little closer to sober you’d know that.”
“Would I!” Hector was annoyed. He put down the glass, very nearly spilling it. It was only saved by Eilish, on the other side, reaching forward and pulling a spoon handle out of the way. “Why would I?” Hector demanded, ignoring Eilish. “Why would I know that, Quinlan?”
“Well, apart from the fact that if it was not her then it was one of us,” Quinlan said, baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile, “she was the only one who had any reason. The brooch was found in her case.”
“Books,” Hector said with satisfaction.
“Books?” Quinlan was derisive. “What are you talking about? What books?”
A flash of temper crossed Hector’s face, but he changed his mind about letting go of it. “Company books,” he said with a smile. “Ledgers.”
There was a moment’s silence. Kenneth put down his knife and fork.
“Miss Latterly didn’t know anything about our company books, Uncle Hector,” Oonagh said quietly. “She only arrived in Edinburgh that morning.”
“Of course she didn’t,” Hector agreed crossly. “But we do.”
“Naturally we do,” Quinlan agreed. Monk thought he only just avoided adding “you fool.”
“And one of us knows whether they are right or wrong,” Hector went on doggedly.
Kenneth’s face was pink. “I do, Uncle Hector. It is my job to keep them. And they are right … to the farthing.”
“Of course they are,” Oonagh said frankly, looking first at Kenneth, then at Hector. “We all know you are distressed over Mother’s death, but you are beginning to speak irresponsibly, Uncle Hector. That does not do any of us justice. It would be a good idea if you were to stop discussing that subject before you say something we shall all regret.” Her eyes were very steady on his. “Mother would not have wished us to quarrel with each other, or make hurtful remarks like that.”
Hector looked numbed, as if for a moment he had forgotten Mary’s death, and then suddenly the whole weight of grief struck him again. The color fled from his face and he seemed about to collapse.
Eilish leaned towards him to give him physical support, which seemed necessary to keep him upright in his chair, and immediately Baird rose and came around to him, half lifting him up.
“Come on, Uncle Hector. Let me take you to your room. I think you had better he down for a while.”
A look of fury crossed over Quinlan’s face as Eilish and Baird between them helped Hector to his feet and led him, shambling erratically, out of the room. They could hear their footsteps lurching across the hall, and Eilish’s voice in encouragement, and then Baird’s deeper tones.
“I’m so sorry,” Oonagh apologized, looking at Monk. “I am afraid poor Uncle Hector is not as well as we would wish. This has all struck him very hard.” She smiled gently, tacitly seeking Monk’s understanding. “I am afraid he sometimes gets confused.”
“ ‘Not as well,’ ” Quinlan said viciously. “He’s blind drunk, the old ass!”
Alastair shot him a look of warning, but refrained from saying anything.
Deirdra rang the bell for the servants to clear away the dishes and bring the next course.
They were finished with dinner and back in the withdrawing room before Oonagh found her opportunity to speak privately with Monk. They were all in the room, but so discreetly that it seemed unnoticed by anyone else, she led him farther and farther from the others until they were standing in front of the large window, now closed against the rapidly chilling night, and out of earshot of anyone. He was suddenly aware of the perfume of her.
“How is your errand progressing, Mr. Monk?” she said softly.
“I have learned little that might not have been expected,” he replied guardedly.
“About us?”
There was no point in prevaricating, and she was not a woman to whom he would lie, or wished to over this.
“Naturally.”
“Have you discovered where Deirdra spends so much money, Mr. Monk?”
“Not yet.”
She pulled a small, rueful face, full of apology, and something else beyond it, deep