The Circle

He looked pained, like a schoolmaster disappointed with an answer. 'One of the most famous of all biographers. Blacker said Miss Snow's book reminded him of Strachey, except that she wasn't so critical of her subjects. But that was the whole point with Strachey. He really wielded the hatchet on some Victorian demigods like Florence Nightingale. I couldn't see Miss Snow doing that.'

'So was he being sarcastic? Blacker, I mean.'

'I'm afraid so. He wasn't a nice man, as I discovered.'

'He let you down badly'

'I'm sure it was calculated.' His voice took on a harder note. 'He'd buttered me up for months and he waited until almost the eve of publication before demanding extra money. A 'cash-flow crisis'. I was sure to recoup it all in royalties, he said blithely. I'm not a complete mug. I refused. Well, you must have read my statement. We had the mother and father of all rows and I walked out. I can't begin to tell you what an effort that took when I was so near to having the book in my hand. My book.'

'Great Unsolved Murders?'

'The title is Unsolved.' A faint smile. 'A single word gets larger letters on the cover.'

'Good thinking.'

'And now you're going to say what all the other policemen said, that I must be the world's leading expert on getting away with murder.'

She took her time over answering. This was a man skilled in using words. 'No, but I'm going to ask for your opinion. You've had plenty of time to think about it. Who's the arsonist?'

Maurice McDade shook his head. 'No use asking me. As a matter of fact I asked for the printer to insert a large question mark above the heading of each chapter. I don't go in for theories. That's up to my readers.'

If and when you ever get any, Hen almost said, tempted to prick his complacency. 'Put it another way, then. Some of the people in the circle took a dislike to Edgar Blacker. Should any of them be on my list of suspects?'

'You need more than just dislike to carry out a murder.'

'Which is why you're on remand, Mr McDade. You're the one he shafted.'

You won't get me to point the finger at my fellow writers.'

'And that's why you're here,' Hen said. 'We don't have another serious suspect'

He took a step forward and his voice rose sharply. 'But it's about my innocence, not their guilt. Look, I couldn't have started the fire at Miss Snow's. I was locked up here.'

'You haven't been charged with the fire at Miss Snow's. Can you help me with that?'

Now he was making a huge effort to sound more calm. 'I'll say this much. She rubbed shoulders with some desperate people.'

'At the refuge, you mean?'

'Yes, she took it upon herself to help them in whatever way she could. It wasn't just a matter of raising funds in the charity shop. She was often at the refuge itself, trying to counsel the clients, or whatever they're called. It did cross my mind that if one of those people confided in her, told her about a crime, for instance, and later panicked, they could have decided killing her was the only remedy.'

'We're looking into that, Mr McDade, but thanks for mentioning it. Did you hear anything from Miss Snow after your arrest?'

'Only at one remove. My partner mentioned on the phone that Miss Snow was doing all she could to secure my release. She and Dagmar and Thomasine.'

Hen played ignorant. 'Let me get these names clear in my head. Dagmar was one of the founders?'

'Yes, with Naomi.'

'Which one is Thomasine?'

'Thomasine O'Loughlin. A splendid woman, salt of the earth. She contributes so much, and in a positive way. Writes some rather good erotic poetry as well. I'd expect her to take the initiative.'

'Is that typical of erotic poets, then?'

'The initiative in proving my innocence.'

'It's all right, Mr McDade. I was being flippant. You also mentioned Naomi. Is she one of your supporters?'

'Naomi? She's more of a lone wolf. No, that's unkind. Her intentions are good, I'm sure, but she has an off- putting manner. I can't see her teaming up with anyone else, not the women, anyway.'

'Off-putting in what way?'

'Hard to explain. I always feel there's a mountain of resentment behind Naomi. She knew straight away that Blacker was bluffing when he said he'd read her book on the Sussex witchcraft trials and it was timed just right for the current fascination with the occult. She asked him straight out if he'd actually read it. Believe me, if you're eye to eye with Naomi you back down. He moved on rapidly to someone else.'

'Tell me about Dagmar, then.'

'Little Dagmar. A delightful person. Very serious, very earnest. Of Austrian or German stock, I would think. But she has this other side you'd never dream of until she mentions she's written twelve steamy romances as Desiree Eliot.'

'Written and published?'

'Not published yet, but I'm sure her chance will come. They could be a goldmine for an enterprising publisher, all those novels written already.'

'Are they good?'

'Who can tell, except the kind of person she's writing for? Romantic writers, more than any others, have to hit the spot, if you understand me.'

Hen thought she did, and managed to keep a straight face.

'It's a huge market,' he said, 'and to my admittedly inexpert ear, Dagmar's writing is equal to the challenge.'

'Did Blacker agree?'

'He said he'd shown her script to a friend who devoured it at a sitting. He was sounding very bullish about it until she mentioned she had eleven more that she'd been hawking around the publishers.'

'Without so much as a nibble?'

'Not up to now.'

'When Blacker heard this he went into reverse?'

'Well, yes.'

'Disappointing for Dagmar.'

'Shattering — but I must tell you she's a gentle soul. It wouldn't enter her mind to turn to violence.'

'You're being very helpful.' And Hen was being very arch — considering she'd looked at the video of Blacker's talk only a couple of hours before. 'There's an even more delicate flower in your little bunch, and I'm trying to think of her name.'

'Jessie Warmington-Smith.'

'That's her.'

'The widow of the archdeacon. Writes letters to The Lady. She's spent many years compiling a book of useful hints for everyday living. It had the working title 'Tips for the Twentieth Century', and of course she had to update it after the millennium, but unfortunately some of the tips are more suitable for the nineteenth century than the twenty-first.'

'How to water your aspidistra?'

He grinned. 'I must give Blacker some credit here. He dealt with her gently. He suggested including tips on text messaging and suchlike. She wasn't impressed.'

'Struck him off her visitors' list?'

'Very likely.'

'And she'd be capable of lighting a fire. It's got to be in the chapter on household hints.'

No smile this time. 'I can't see Jessie on the streets at night with a can of petrol.'

'Why not? What was it Shakespeare said about a woman scorned?'

'I understand you, but I think it was Congreve, not Shakespeare.'

'All right, darling, have it your way. If being relaxed on the streets at night is a factor, I guess we have to