Archie Morton swallowed a big gulp of Scotch. “I’m leaving. I’ve got cars to fix.”
“No, sir,” Glen said politely. “You’re staying. You can’t work now anyway. Your repair site is a crime scene.”
“I think you know,” Glen replied.
Archie snarled at the constable and poured himself another shot.
“Bomb,” Will said.
Beth stared at him. “What?”
“The one that killed Harry,” Will said. “Who else but Archie would know how to make a bomb?” He avoided looking at Archie, who appeared nearly apoplectic. “Isn’t that so, Constable?” Will inquired of Glen.
“I couldn’t say, sir,” Glen answered stoically.
Archie downed three shots in a row before turning to his brother. “It wasn’t my idea! It was yours, Jocko! I thought it was a prank!”
“Ridiculous!” Marie exclaimed. “You’re all crooks!”
Jocko turned his back on Archie and looked at Will. “You and your wife better keep quiet. You’re as guilty as any of us, Fleming.”
“We’ll see about that,” Will said mildly.
Seumas advanced on Will. “You made a deal with the coppers.”
“Unlike you,” Will said, “I own a conscience. I’d never betray Moira.” He patted Marie’s hand. “You convinced me where my loyalties lie. You also knew Moira never sent those lovesick emails to Davey.”
“Of course she wouldn’t,” Marie said. “Moira spoke perfect French. When it came to love, she always wrote in longhand and in French. It’s much more romantic.” She stroked Will’s cheek. “Isn’t that so, darling?”
“Those emails you gave me when you came to dinner?” Beth asked. “I took them to Moira, but she was ill and irrational, so I decided to wait until she felt better and could deal with the situation. It wasn’t until later that day that I realized the case containing the emails was gone from my bag. Knowing what a snoop Elise was, I believed she’d gone through my things, found the case, and put it aside to read the contents at her leisure. When I phoned to ask her about the case, she swore she hadn’t kept it.”
“That might be true,” Glen said. “Apparently the maid removed the case but returned it to the wrong purse.” He glanced at Judith. “Then the emails disappeared from Grimloch where they’d been taken inadvertently. Unfortunately, we don’t know who wrote them.”
“I do,” Will said grimly. “Jocko concocted the emails to prove that Moira and Davey were having an affair.” He ignored Jocko’s voluble protests and paused to give the other man a venomous stare. “You created those emails before fleeing to Greece. I found them in your safe at headquarters. You forgot that as chief financial officer, I know all the safe combinations. I also turned up some very interesting and imaginative figures intended to bloat the company’s bottom line.”
“Bloody parasite!” Jocko shouted, and had to be restrained by Glen. “You’d betray your own mother if you thought it’d line your fancy bespoke pockets!”
Renie smirked. “I didn’t think Jocko knew words like ‘bespoke.’ His own clothes look like he bought them at Rummage ‘R’ Us.”
Will’s gaze turned to Archie. “The police have found them in your garage. I learned from Moira that you, Seumas,” he went on, pointing a finger at the attorney, who had resumed his usual air of smug respectability, “went to Hollywood House to supposedly apologize for the dustup you and Jocko had with Patrick. Elise turned you away —but not before you managed to elicit the information that the maid had erroneously put the jewel case in Mrs. Flynn’s purse instead of Beth’s.”
“Are you taking notes?” Renie asked Judith.
“I don’t need to,” she said. “Beth is Kate’s daughter. The apple never falls far from the tree. I bet this whole mess is being taped.”
Will was still speaking: “Don’t play the innocent with me, Seumas. You relayed that information to Jocko, who had Archie steal the case from Mrs. Flynn when he came to Grimloch about Gibbs’s car.”
“Of course!” Judith whispered to Renie. “We knew Archie had been at the castle that day.”
“Your batting average on this one’s pretty high—” Renie stopped, looking startled.
Archie had set upon Will. Jocko broke free from Constable Glen to join his brother in the fracas. Glen blew his whistle, summoning Adamson from outside. Seumas and Matt argued loudly; Philip shielded Beth; Marie smashed a table lamp over Archie’s head; Peggy curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Where are our husbands?” Renie said suddenly. “Joe could shoot these people and Bill could ship the survivors to a mental home.”
Judith sighed. “Let’s not think about it. I’m getting a headache.”
Adamson and Glen had subdued the combatants just before DCI MacRae entered the drawing room, accompanied by Sergeant Ogilvie and two more constables. MacRae turned to Jocko Morton. “I’m placing you under arrest for complicity in the murder of Harry Gibbs,” he announced.
Jocko started to bluster but Seumas spoke up: “Don’t say a word! I’m your attorney, remember?”
Adamson cuffed Jocko, who glared at Seumas. MacRae faced the other Morton and recited the same charge to Archie. “You,” MacRae said to Seumas, “are a person of interest, and will come along, too.” He looked at Matt. “The Yard’s special unit will deal with you. Don’t leave the area.”
