house was quiet, the air hot and stuffy. Hawk yawned widely.
'Don't,' said Fisher. 'You'll set me off.'
'Sorry,' said Hawk. 'I can't sleep. Too much on my mind.'
'All right, then; you stand watch and I'll get some sleep.'
'Suits me,' said Hawk. 'I shouldn't think we'll have any more trouble tonight.'
'You could be right,' said Fisher, settling herself comfortably in her chair and wishing vaguely that she had a pillow. 'Whoever killed Blackstone, it didn't have the look of a spur-of-the-moment decision. A lot of careful planning had to have gone into it. What we have to worry about now is whether the killer had a specific grudge against Blackstone, or if he's just the first in a series of victims.'
'You know,' said Hawk, 'we can't even be sure that Blackstone was the intended victim. Maybe he just saw someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had to die because he was a witness. The killer might still be waiting for his chance at the real victim.'
'Don't,' said Fisher piteously. 'Isn't the case complicated enough as it is?'
'Sorry,' said Hawk. 'Just thinking;'
'Have you had any more ideas on who the killer might be?'
'Nothing new. Bowman and Katherine Blackstone have to be the most obvious choices; they had the most to gain. But I keep coming back to <em>how</em> the murder was committed. There's something about that locked room that worries me. I can't quite figure out what it is, but something keeps nagging at me; Ah, well, no doubt it'll come to me eventually.'
'My head's starting to ache again,' said Fisher. 'I'm no good at problems. Never have been. You know. Hawk, what gets me is the casual way it was done. I mean, one minute we're all standing around in here, knocking back the fruit cordial and chatting away nineteen to the dozen, and the next minute everyone goes off to change and Blackstone is killed. If the killer was one of the people in this room, he must have cast-iron nerves.'
'Right,' said Hawk.
They sat together a while, listening to the quiet. The house creaked and groaned around them, settling itself as old houses will. The air was still and hot and heavy. Hawk dropped one hand onto the shaft of his axe, where it stood leaning against the side of his chair. There were too many things about this case he didn't like, too many things that didn't add up. And he had a strong feeling that the night still had a few more surprises up its sleeve.
Time passed, and silence spread through the old house. Everyone was either asleep or sitting quietly in their rooms, waiting for the morning. The hall and the landing were empty, and the shadows lay undisturbed. A door eased silently open, and Edward Bowman looked out onto the landing. A single oil lamp glowed dully halfway down the right-hand wall, shedding a soft orange light over the landing. There was no one else about, and Bowman relaxed a little. Not that it mattered if anyone did see him. He could always claim he was going to the bathroom, but why complicate matters? Besides, he didn't want to do anything that might draw the attention of the Guards. He stepped out onto the landing and closed his bedroom door quietly behind him. He waited a moment, listening, and then padded down the landing to Katherine's room. He tried the door handle, but the door was locked. He looked quickly up and down the landing, and tapped quietly on the door. The sound seemed very loud on the silence. There was a long pause, and then he heard a key turning in the lock. The door eased open, and Bowman darted into the room. The door shut quietly behind him.
Katherine clung desperately to Bowman, holding him so tightly he could hardly breathe. She burrowed her face into his neck, as though trying to hide from the events of the day. He murmured soothingly to her, and after a while she quietened and relaxed her grip a little. He smiled slightly.
'Glad to see me, Kath?'
She lifted her face to his and kissed him hungrily. 'I was so afraid you wouldn't come to me tonight. I need you, Edward. I need you now more than ever.'
'It's all right, Kath. I'm here now.'
'But if we're caught together;'
'We won't be,' said Edward quickly. 'Not as long as we're careful.'
Katherine finally let go of him, and sat down on the edge of the bed. '<em>Careful</em>. I hate that word. We're always having to be careful, having to think twice about everything we do, everything we say. How much longer, Edward? How much longer before we can be together openly? I want you, my love; I want you with me always, in my arms, in my bed!'
'We won't have to keep up the pretence much longer,' said Edward. 'Just for a while, till things have quietened down. All we have to do is be patient for a little while;'
'I'm sick of being patient!'
Edward gestured sharply at the wall. Katherine nodded reluctantly, and lowered her voice before speaking again. It wouldn't do to be overheard, and there was no telling how thin the walls were.
'Edward, did the Guards say anything to you about who they think killed William?'
'Not really, but they'd be fools if they didn't see us as the main suspects. There's always been some gossip about us, and we both stood to gain by his death. We could have killed him;'
'In a way, perhaps we did.'
'What?' Edward looked at her sharply. 'Katherine, you didn't;'
'William committed suicide,' said Katherine. 'I; told him about us.'
'You did what?'
'I had to! I couldn't go on like this, living a lie. I told him I was still fond of him, and always would be, but that I loved you and wanted to marry you. I said I'd do it any way he wanted, any way that would protect his political career, but that whatever happened I was determined on a divorce. To begin with he refused to listen, and then; then he told me he loved me, and would never give me up. I said I'd walk out on him if I had to, and he said that if I did, he would kill himself.'
'Dear God;' breathed Bowman. 'And you think William;'
'Yes,' said Katherine. 'I think he killed himself. I think he died because of us.'
'Have you told anyone else about this?'
'Of course not! But that's not all, Edward, I;'
She broke off suddenly and looked at the door. Out on the landing someone was walking past the door. Katherine rose quickly to her feet and held Edward's arm. They both stood very still, listening. The sound came again;soft, hesitant footsteps that died quickly away as they retreated down the landing. Bowman frowned. There was something strange about the footsteps; Katherine started to say something, and Bowman hushed her with a finger to his lips. They listened carefully for a while, but the footsteps seemed to be gone.
'Did anyone see you come in here?' said Katherine quietly.
'I don't think so,' said Bowman. 'I was very careful. It could have been one of the Guards, just doing the rounds to make sure everything's secure. It could have been someone going to the bathroom. Whoever it was, they're gone now. I'd better get back to my room.'
'Edward;'
'I can't stay, Kath. Not tonight, not here. It's too much of a risk. I'll see you again, in the morning.'
'Yes. In the morning.' Katherine kissed him goodbye, and then moved away to ease the door open a crack. The landing was completely deserted. Katherine opened the door wide, and Bowman slipped silently out onto the landing. She shut the door quietly behind him, and Bowman waited a moment while his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. He started along the landing towards his own room, and then stopped as he heard a faint scuffing sound behind him. He spun round, but there was no one there. The landing stretched away before him, open and empty, until it disappeared in the shadows at the top of the stairs. And then the smell came to him;a sharp, musky smell that raised the hackles on the back of his neck. Bowman reached into the top of his boot and drew out a long slender dagger. The cool metal hilt felt good in his hand. He was in danger; he could feel it. Bowman smiled grimly. If all this was supposed to frighten him, his enemy was in for an unpleasant surprise. He'd never backed away from a duel in his life, and he'd never lost one. He wondered if this was William's killer after all. He hoped so; he would enjoy avenging William's death. He might not always have liked the man, but he'd always admired him. Bowman stepped forward, dagger in hand, and something awful came flying out of the shadows at the top of the stairs. Bowman had time to scream once, and then there was only the pain and the blood, and the snarls of his attacker.
