‘She rang last night, while you were at your party. She’d had a bit to drink.’
Louise’s eyes narrowed. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘You never liked her, did you?’
‘She was wrong for you.’
People could say the same about you and Stuart Wagg, he thought, but he kept his mouth clamped shut.
‘I mean,’ Louise said in a softer tone, ‘she might have been pretty, but she was never a long-term bet.’
‘Too much the drama queen, you once told me.’
‘Someone had to say it, Daniel. So — was she all maudlin and hankering after old times?’
‘She’s split up with Ethan and he’s dropped her from the magazine. She’s working freelance for a couple of glossies at the moment, but she sounded at a loose end. Said she might come back up here sometime for a break.’
‘For God’s sake. I hope you didn’t encourage her.’ Louise uttered a theatrical groan. ‘Remember, she fell in love with the Lakes for all of five minutes before the bright lights of the big city dragged her back down south. She’s so bloody unpredictable.’
‘When she left, we agreed to stay friends. I’m glad she’s kept in touch.’
‘She used you before. She’ll use you again, if you don’t watch out. And you’ll be the one left picking up the pieces. Not her ladyship.’
Daniel perched on the arm of a leather chair. ‘That’s what people do, isn’t it? We all use each other, in one way or another. Does no harm, between consenting adults.’
‘And I thought I was the family cynic.’
‘You never told me who you met last night.’
‘Do you really want to know?’
Her gaze settled on him, cool and probing, as if he were a criminal in the dock about to be quizzed by counsel for the prosecution. How come she’d never practised as a courtroom lawyer? Her cross-examination technique would have wowed them down at the Bailey.
‘Sure.’ A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, she was amusing herself at his expense. OK, he’d hazard a guess, even if it smacked of wish fulfilment. ‘It wasn’t Hannah Scarlett, by any chance?’
‘The one and only.’ She inspected her fingernails. A vivid turquoise. He couldn’t remember her painting them in the past. ‘Father’s fancy woman.’
‘Don’t be absurd.’ He couldn’t help snapping back. ‘There was nothing between them.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘For God’s sake. Dad was so much older. He ran off with Cheryl, don’t forget. Not Hannah.’
‘No, I don’t forget.’ Her eyes glinted with satisfaction. ‘Actually, Hannah seems like a nice woman.’
‘High praise, huh?’
‘I don’t mean to sound patronising. She told me Dad taught her all she knows about detective work. She admired him.’
‘So, did I.’
A sigh. ‘Suppose I was too hard on him.’
Daniel had waited half a lifetime for that admission. She’d shared her mother’s fury at Ben Kind’s desertion. He’d walked out on all three of them and moved up to the Lake District to make a new life with a young woman. For years Louise refused to refer to her by name: she was never Cheryl, only the Blonde Bitch.
‘So, you and Hannah had a chat?’
‘Until we were interrupted by a contretemps. She was looking good, actually. Very svelte.’ Louise paused before adding, ‘She asked after you.’
‘Yeah?’ He wanted to sound casual, but knew he’d failed.
‘She hadn’t heard you were back in Britain. It seemed to come as a shock. Pleasant one, though.’
Better make it clear that he remembered Hannah wasn’t available.
‘I must visit Marc Amos’s bookshop. See if he has any local stuff about De Quincey.’
‘He was there too. When I spotted him, he was ogling one of the waitresses.’
‘Marc is a decent guy.’
Daniel had never broken up anyone else’s relationship, and he didn’t mean to start now. He was attracted to Hannah Scarlett, for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, even to himself. But she was out of bounds.
‘Stuart spends a lot of money with Amos Books. He must be one of Marc’s best customers. Especially since that man Saffell died.’
‘Saffell?’
‘The book collector, the man who died in the fire at Ullswater. I mentioned it on the way up the M6, weren’t you listening? It all sounds very mysterious, and I know how you love a mystery.’
He scarcely remembered. After flight delays on the way back from Seattle, he’d been pretty much out of it. Happy to let her conversation wash over him.
‘Reading between the lines of the newspaper coverage, the fire didn’t start by accident. If an arsonist killed Saffell, his wife must be a suspect. She certainly has a temper.’
Daniel frowned. ‘How do you know?’
‘She showed up at the party. Stuart invited her as a matter of courtesy, he’s known her for years. He didn’t seriously expect her to come. Let alone cause a scene.’
‘What happened?’
‘She and I were talking to Arlo Denstone.’
‘You met Arlo?’
‘Stuart introduced us. He’s dying to meet you, now you’re back in England.’
‘I just watched a recording of him on TV. Not only an evangelist for De Quincey, but quite a charmer as well.’
‘He’s an intense guy. Intelligent, a bit hyper. Might dabble in the odd bit of opium-eating himself, for all I know.’
‘Not your type?’
‘No, but I can see why some women might be smitten. Not that he and I had a long conversation. Wanda Saffell joined us and the look in her eyes said she wanted to speak to him on her own. I caught sight of Hannah chatting to Stuart and made my excuses. A few minutes later, Wanda chucked a glass of red wine all over Arlo’s jacket and then flounced out of the room.’
‘Party-pooper, huh?’
‘Stuart discovered her sitting cross-legged at the foot of the stairs, sobbing her heart out. He had her taken home by one of his partners. Her nerves are in tatters, he said.’
‘Why did she attack Arlo?’
‘No idea. Stuart brushed it off, said she’d had a rough time lately.’
‘How could Arlo have upset her, a woman recently widowed in horrific circumstances?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘He strikes me as a man who likes to provoke a reaction. Murder fascinates him. Maybe he suggested she knew something about her husband’s death?’
Louise shook her head. ‘You still believe historians make good detectives?’
‘Why not? I got a book and a television series out of it.’
‘Before you threw everything away.’
‘I needed to escape.’
‘I don’t-’ she broke off as her brother’s attention strayed. ‘What’s the matter?’
Daniel peered through the window. The rain was pounding harder. A dark figure in a hooded waterproof coat and hiker’s boots splashed through puddles towards the cottage from the tarn.
‘Someone has wandered into the garden.’
‘That will be Stuart. I told him about this place and he said it sounded fascinating. I dropped him off by the old mill, so he could stroll along the beck. He could do with a breath of air, he didn’t sleep last night.’
Daniel stared at the figure outside. The face was masked by the hood, but the man must have seen that he was being watched. He raised a hand encased in a black leather gauntlet.
