“And then you saw him being carried out?”
“I did.”
“And that’s when you saw his face?”
“I suppose so. I saw him going out on the stretcher.”
“Then what did you do? Did you do anything else?”
“I went home,” said Isabel sharply. “I gave my statement to the police and then I went home.”
McManus fiddled with his pencil. “And that was all you did?”
“Yes,” said Isabel.
3 4
A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h McManus wrote something down in his notebook. “What did he look like on the stretcher?”
Isabel felt her heart thumping within her. There was no need for her to put up with any more of this. He was a guest—of sorts—in her house and if she no longer wished to discuss the matter with him, then she had only to ask him to leave. She took a deep breath. “Mr. McManus,” she began, “I really do not think that there’s much point in going into these matters. I cannot see what bearing it has on any report which you will publish of the incident. A young man fell to his death. Surely that is enough. Do your readers need to know anything more about how he looked on the way down? What do they expect? That he was laughing as he fell? That he looked cheerful on the stretcher? And his parents—what do they expect of them? That they are devastated?
Really, how remarkable!”
McManus laughed. “Don’t tell me my job, Isabel.”
“Ms. Dalhousie, actually.”
“Oh yes, Ms. Dalhousie. Spinster of this parish.” He paused.
“Surprising, that. You being an attractive woman, sexy if I may say so . . .”
She glared at him, and he looked down at his notebook.
“I have things to do,” she said, rising to her feet. “Would you mind?”
McManus closed his notebook, but remained seated.
“You’ve just given me a little lecture on how the press should behave,” he said. “I suppose you’re entitled to do that, if you wish.
But it’s a pity your own moral authority is a little bit shaky.”
She looked at him blankly, uncertain how to interpret his remark.
“You see, you lied,” McManus went on. “You said that you went home, whereas I happen to know, from my conversations T H E S U N D A Y P H I L O S O P H Y C L U B
3 5
with the police, and with somebody else, that you went upstairs.
You were seen looking down from the exact spot where he fell.
But you very carefully failed to mention this to me. In fact, you said that you went home. Why would you lie to me, I wonder.”
Isabel answered quickly. “I had no reason to tell you that. It had nothing at all to do with the incident.”
“Really?” sneered McManus. “But what if I said that I thought you know more about this incident than you’re letting on? Don’t you think I’d be entitled to reach that conclusion now?”
Isabel moved towards the door and opened it pointedly. “I don’t have to put up with this in my own home,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind leaving now.”
McManus rose to his feet, taking his time. “Sure,” he said.
“It’s your house. And I have no wish to outstay my welcome.”
She walked to the hallway and opened the front door.
McManus followed, stooping for a moment to inspect a painting on the way.
“You have some beautiful things,” he said. “Money?”
C H A P T E R F O U R
E
COOKING IN A TEMPER required caution with the pepper; one might put far too much in and ruin a risotto in sheer pique.
She felt dirtied by contact with McManus, as she inevitably did on those occasions when she found herself talking to somebody whose outlook on life was completely amoral. There were a surprising number of such people, she thought, and they were becoming more common; people to whom the idea of a moral sense seemed to be quite alien. What had appalled her most about McManus was the fact that he intended to talk to the parents, whose grief counted less for him than the desire of the public to witness the suffering of others. She shuddered. There was nobody, it seemed, to whom one might appeal; nobody who seemed prepared to say: Leave those poor people in peace.
She stirred the risotto, taking a small spoonful to test it for seasoning. The liquid from the soaked porcini mushrooms had imparted its flavour to the rice, and it was perfect. Soon she could put the dish in the lower oven and leave it there until Cat and Toby sat down with her at the table. In the meantime, there was a salad to prepare and a bottle of wine to open.
