“I don’t know.” Judith buttered the bread and started searching for mustard. “He may not have been in the car when the bomb went off. That would make sense. If he’d been…well, literally blown up…nobody at the scene would be sure how he died unless it was the result of the explosion. They might not even know if the remains were Harry’s.”
Renie had found a bowl for the salad. “I wonder how Moira’s faring on this latest voyage into widowhood. She must feel hexed.”
“I wonder where she lives,” Judith said. “Not always with Harry, since he seemed to spend time here at the castle.”
“The rich are different,” Renie pointed out, “as we have discovered. They don’t live conventional lives like the rest of us poor persons.”
“Maybe Joe can learn more when he and Bill get back tomorrow,” Judith said, cutting up the tomato. “I gather MacGowan hasn’t been called in on the case.”
Renie had returned to the refrigerator. “I see five kinds of salad dressing. What’s your choice?”
“Blue cheese?”
“Okay. Me, too.” Renie brought out a small crock. “This is homemade. See the handwritten label with the fancy letter
“Very nice. Mrs. Gibbs, I suppose.”
“Who else?” Renie spooned the thick dressing into the salad bowl. “Do we eat here or in the dining room?”
“Let’s not do either,” Judith responded. “We don’t know where the dining room lights are and there’s really no place to sit in here. We should check out the drawing room and maybe have an after-dinner drink from the liquor cabinet.”
Judith and Renie put their meals on a pewter tray and carried them out through the door Beth had used. They found themselves in a small hallway by the indoor elevator. Around the corner was the passageway that led to the drawing room. The lights were on. Someone had recently used the room. Cigar smoke hung in the air.
“Philip Fordyce?” Judith said as they settled onto a Regency sofa covered in dark green velvet. “I can’t imagine Gibbs sitting around smoking cigars.”
“Maybe it’s Chuckie,” Renie said. “He’d do just about anything.”
“I wonder if the police have tracked him down for questioning,” Judith mused. “Want half of this apple?”
“No, thanks.” Renie took a large bite of sandwich. “AhwunnerufChuggienosowtomakabum.”
“Chuckie may be the type who’d not only know how to make a bomb, but would enjoy setting it off to hear it go bang,” Judith said, accustomed to hearing Renie talk with her mouth full. “Although he did ask what the noise was, indicating it surprised him.”
The drawing room door opened. A tired-looking Philip Fordyce entered, appearing surprised to see the cousins. “Pardon,” he said, going to the liquor cabinet. “Did I leave my drink in here?”
Judith scanned the large room. “I don’t see it. Do you remember where you were sitting?”
“I wasn’t,” Philip answered tersely. “Never mind. I’ll pour a fresh one.” He went to the cabinet and got out a bottle of Scotch.
“I understand,” Judith said, “you own the Glengrim distillery. I had some of your whiskey last night. It’s excellent.”
Philip didn’t look up from the glass he was filling halfway. “Yes.”
Judith glanced at Renie, who was chomping away at her sandwich. She hoped her cousin would keep her mouth shut about her dislike of Scotch. Philip remained by the liquor cabinet, savoring his drink.
“How long will you be?” he inquired after a long pause.
Judith turned to look directly at him. “In here?”
“Yes.”
“As long as it takes,” Renie said, fortunately not with her mouth full. “Why? Isn’t this the guest part of the castle?”
“I’m expecting someone momentarily,” Philip explained.
“We’re almost—”
Judith was interrupted by Renie. “Anybody we know?”
“Doubtful,” Philip replied with a severe look for Renie. “You arrived only yesterday, did you not?”
“Right, but my coz and I get around. You’d be surprised.” For emphasis, Renie wiggled her eyebrows.
“If you don’t mind…” Philip began, but at that moment the door opened and a haggard Gibbs showed Mrs. Gunn into the drawing room.
“A fine mess this is, Philip,” she declared, though her manner seemed almost jubilant. The sparkle in her eyes dimmed when she saw Judith and Renie. “My word! What are they doing here?”
“Told you so.” Renie chortled and flexed her bare toes.
“You’re acquainted?” Philip asked Mrs. Gunn, who was eyeing Renie’s unshod feet with disgust.
“We’ve met,” Mrs. Gunn said through taut lips. “I’d no idea you were offering them hospitality.”
“It’s rather involved,” Philip said. He raised his voice and addressed the cousins. “Would you mind? Mrs. Gunn and I have private matters to discuss.”
