The Old Silent

she knew neither of those weapons could get close enough to save her.

Something glimmered in her mind and she slowly raised her head and tented her hand over her eyes, squinting way off across the moor.

Sheep.

2

Where in heaven's name were they all?

The Hall was virtually deserted except for Melrose and the staff, and with the exception of Ruby, they were in their rooms, Mrs. Braithwaite having decided she could be as ill as Cook, as long as she had the poor drudge Ruby Cuff to see to getting a platter of cold chicken and cheese and salad on the luncheon table.

And following luncheon, the guests had scattered like buckshot; Mrs. Braithwaite's cooking and murder had that effect on one, Melrose supposed. It made no difference that Superintendent Sanderson had given instructions that they were all to keep themselves available for questioning. The constable who had been left behind (in his orphaned, custodial position by the door) had been removed in the morning -with some help from Ellen and her BMW. The Weavers Hall inmates seemed to breathe easier.

Dinner the previous evening had consisted of some sort of stewed chicken and mushy peas and overboiled potatoes. Today's lunch had been a drier version of the dinner.

Major Poges had tossed in the towel-or the napkin-and announced that he refused to eat another meal until Cook was up and about and said he would dine at the White Lion, would anyone care to join him? Not even the Princess cared to; she had a vicious migraine and retired to her 'rooms.' She always made her part of Weavers Hall sound like a floor of some splendid, if decaying, Venetian palace whose facade Melrose could imagine reflected in the night-lit shimmering waters of the Grand Canal. Vivian was always gondolaing by in these fantasies. He could see Vivian's latest creation from some couture house as clearly as he could imagine the Princess's room strewn about with silk and bombazine, printed velvets and brocades.

Ramona Braine, throughout the meal, had remained rigidly silent, checking her turquoise watch every ten minutes, thinking, from her expression, of their ruined holiday to Cumbria and her meeting with the Emperor Hadrian- dashed now because his specter had already been hanging about there (it being well past noon), come and gone as specters do. Melrose's attempt to solace her with the suggestion that 'perhaps next year' was met with a furious glance that removed him completely from the provenance of the spirit world.

Only Malcolm was making the most of things. He had exhausted the topic of the murder of 'the landlady' and been chillingly silenced by George Poges. Thus what he saw as the bloody corpse was transplanted by a long description of the bloody chickens he had watched Ruby throttle and then chain-saw to death (to hear him talk). The remnants now lay coldly on the platter before them; Malcolm described this slaughter with all of the relish of Agamemnon's father, Atreus, serving up the fatal pie to his brother that contained Thyestes' children. What was impressive about the Greeks was that they never forgot anything, never let a slur pass, never let a gauntlet drop without reprisals. For family feeling, they could teach the Mafia a thing or two. The Greeks reminded him of Commander Macalvie.

Melrose pushed the pale chicken piece about his plate and took a bite of cold potato and thought of Agamemnon murdered by Aegisthus and Clytemnestra. Next generation: Orestes and Electra. Yes, it went on forever. Revenge really turned their cranks (as Ellen would probably say).

He was thinking of this as he stared out of the window at dusk. He frowned. Where in hell was Ellen, anyway? After breakfast she and her bike had skittered down the drive, spitting up shale and rocks on her way to some Bronte research revel, this time in Wycoller. That had been nearly twelve hours ago.

He walked over to the fireplace, kicked at the barely burning log, looked at his reflection in the gilt mirror and found it less than inspiring. And where was Abby? He'd been checking his watch as often as had Ramona Braine and was looking through the window as if the specter might appear in its shredded graveclothes and beckon him to the pile of rocks.

Abby had been in the barn after breakfast and he hadn't seen her since. His appearance hadn't resulted in anything but her playing her Elvis record louder and stomping round the byre to medicate her cow.

He had decided to ask Ruby to fix Abby's tea, and been told, when he wandered into the kitchen that it'd do no good; Abby always did her own tea just the way she liked it.

'But she must at least come to the main house for supplies. ' Even Admiral Byrd had to get those, though Melrose had forgotten how.

'She be all right, sir; we never worry about the lass.'

He thought this so peculiar that in his abstraction he picked up a tea towel and began to wipe a platter. Ruby was doing the washing-up from their earlier meal and wasn't happy about the extra work. Her thick brows were working toward the center like burrowing moles. Clearly, she felt put upon, what with both Cook and Mrs. Braithwaite having fled the scene.

She told Melrose he needn't do the drying, but she was obviously pleased that a guest was doing scullery work and taking the load off her narrow shoulders.

Indeed, no one (including himself) had paid any more attention to Ruby Cuff than one would a lamp or a chair. He put the platter by and chose something smaller-a teacup. Police had asked Ruby a few rudimentary questions, but perhaps because Mrs. Braithwaite was clearly the head of the staff and had been there the longest, Ruby had been given short shrift. Ruby had that straight-up-and-down, tightly laced and buttonhooked look that made it hard to tell if she were twenty or forty. Had she been a beauty-like the Princess-this ageless limbo would have served her well.

'Ruby, how long have you been employed by Miss Denholme?'

'Near ten year, sir.' This seemed to please her. 'You needn't dry this,' she said, holding up a big roasting pan.

Melrose had no intention of doing so as he watched her place it on the rack.

'But then you must have known Miss Denholme quite well.'

She looked less pleased at having to admit she didn't. 'You needn't try getting that bit of stain out of the egg cup. The Princess stuffed out a cigarette in it. It's the Major's.'

'I take it that's why she did it.' The egg cup had stubby legs and blue-dotted shoes. He frowned at it.

The smile did nothing to light up her plain features. 'Cats and dogs they are.'

'I expect police asked you about your relationship with Miss Denholme?' He redried the egg cup by way of avoiding the cutlery and especially the heavy skillet.

'Well, they asked how long I been here and did I know anyone'd got anything against her.'

'Of course, there wouldn't be: I mean, no one you knew of?'

Since he'd appeared to have answered his own question, she saw no reason to answer it again and just kept on running a rag around a dented kettle.

Melrose sighed and picked up another egg cup. It had shoes, too, yellow ones. He had a vision of egg cups, hundreds of them, marching down Oxford Street. Blinking it away, he wondered how Jury got them to talk-the suspects, the witnesses, the children, dogs, cats. Grass, trees… Don't be absurd; you're just jealous. 'Did Miss Taylor happen to mention when she'd be back?' Melrose hadn't meant to give voice to this speculation; it would throw him off target.

'No, sir.' Ruby wiped a strand of hair back from her forehead. 'She's a strange one, ain't she? Do they all dress like that in New York City?'

'Yes.' He certainly had better not get into defending Ellen Taylor or her clothes or he'd never get anything out of Ruby. He gave the shoes another shine and watched Ruby bailing the water out of the plastic tub. Then, after she'd plucked another tea towel from a drawer and reached for the skillet, he beat her to it. That's what Jury would do. He'd have done all the washing up. 'No, Ruby, you've been working too hard. Just have a rest.' The skillet seemed to weigh a ton. Had he been in charge of a kitchen he'd have thrown all the heavy stuff straight out and used those plastic disposable things.