Aunt Sarah, short, plump and formidably energetic, snatched up the two fat bags she had insisted on carrying into the house. “Right, Carol. I’ll put these in my room while you make me a cup of tea-you’ve neglected to offer it, I might mention-and you can tell me all about it.”
Carol watched her aunt stride down the hall, her short white hair standing on end from the wind. With her tanned, wrinkled face and its mobile expressions, she was a beloved if sometimes exasperating person who had more affectionate power over Carol than she cared to permit to anyone else.
Carol had just finished pouring the mugs of tea when her aunt reappeared. “Before David comes in from teasing the cats-he shouldn’t be allowed to do that-you’d better tell me all about it.” She glared. “Don’t sigh, Carol. Just talk.”
Feeling uncertain how to broach the subject, Carol said, “Aunt, I’ve never spelled it out, but Sybil and I…”
“Are lovers. Or is it
She winced. “Are, I think. I’m not sure.”
Her aunt stirred sugar into her tea as though punishing the beverage. “Not like you to be unsure. If there’s one thing you are, my dear, it’s definite.”
She realized what an enormous relief it was to share this part of herself with someone she trusted, whose love was secure. “Sybil says we’ve grown apart. That I won’t keep up with her, won’t try. She wants me to change-and I can’t.” She could hear the echo of resentment in her voice.
Aunt Sarah marched over to the sliding door. “David, cats don’t want to play when they’re trying to sleep. That’s teasing. Don’t let me see you do it again.” Back at the kitchen bench, she said, “Is there someone else?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Your work has a lot to do with it,” said Aunt Sarah shrewdly.
Carol told her about the wedding invitation. “It only precipitated it, of course. Sybil won’t accept that I have to stay in the closet. It isn’t a matter of choice. If I want to do my job well, that’s just one of the ground rules.”
“Where’s Sybil?” asked David, coming into the room with a blast of cold air.
Carol felt herself softening as she looked at him. He had her fair hair and green eyes, but his father’s sturdy build. “She’s staying down at her house at the beach. When I spoke to her this morning she asked you and Aunt Sarah to go down for lunch. I have to go in to work, but I’ll drive you down and pick you up later this afternoon.”
“Can I go swimming?”
“Of course not,” said Aunt Sarah. “It’s far too cold. But we can try fishing, if you like. Have you got a line for me?” As David went off to find the fishing tackle he always left at Carol’s place, she said, “Carol, don’t take this so seriously. I left your uncle at least three times.”
“You’re making that up.”
Aunt Sarah frowned. “Are you calling your closest relative a liar?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” said Carol, grinning.
Sybil looked relaxed in a black track suit that emphasized the red of her hair. She welcomed David and Aunt Sarah with warmth, Carol with more restraint.
“I’ve told Aunt Sarah the situation.”
Sybil said with certainty, “She won’t take sides, Carol.”
Carol was immediately indignant. “I wouldn’t ask her to.”
Driving into the city, she wondered if that was true. What would she feel if her aunt said to her that Sybil was right, and that Carol must change? Thought was unprofitable-she felt baffled and angry. She walked into her office with a feeling of relief that she could slip into the role she played best.
Mark Bourke had just come into her office when the phone rang to announce that Kenneth Raeburn was waiting to see her.
He entered full of soft smiles. “Inspector Ashton, I do appreciate you seeing me.”
Introducing him to Bourke, she was again reminded of an aggressive bantam rooster. Bourke was much taller and more substantial, so Raeburn swelled his chest, stood almost on tiptoes, shook hands emphatically, then stepped away so that the height difference was not so obvious. “You’d like me to sit here, Inspector?”
Carol waited until both men were seated, then said, “I interviewed Alanna Brooks last night.”
“A very fine soprano. Collis thought the world of her.”
“She says she believes you were trying to persuade her to say that the book on euthanasia in the hotel room actually belongs to her. That it wasn’t your son’s at all.”
He was dressed in a dark blue suit and red tie. He picked an imaginary speck from the lapel as he said, “Alanna, of course, is mistaken. I didn’t try to persuade her of anything at all. We did, however, mention the handbook.”
“You saw her just before the performance of
“Yes?” His tone was polite.
“It was opening night, so hardly the time for an informal chat. Why did you want to see her?”
His soft voice became hostile. “I can’t imagine what this has to do with your investigation, but if you must know, I wanted her to tell me how Collis was when she last saw him.”
Carol glanced at Bourke, who said, “It’s almost a week since your son died, yet this is the first time you speak to Alanna Brooks?”
“Well, no. She rang me to offer her condolences earlier, but I felt I needed to see her face-to-face.”
Bourke was unimpressed. “It wasn’t a very convenient time, just before a major performance.”
Raeburn reddened. “My son is dead! Whether it’s convenient or inconvenient is of no interest to me.”
It was Carol’s turn. “Were Collis and Alanna Brooks lovers?”
“Years ago, when they were starting out-yes. But never after that. Besides, Collis was interested in Corinne Jawalski.” Anticipating the next question, he said so softly that Carol had to listen intently, “I don’t know if they were lovers. You’ll have to ask Corinne.”
“Ms Brooks says that you favored Corinne as a singing partner for your son.”
“This is of no importance now, but I was looking to the future. I believe Corinne will reach the very top.”
Bourke opened a folder. “Edward Livingston told us Alanna Brooks was a bankable star who could be guaranteed to pull the fans. Considering the financial state of your family company, wouldn’t it be wiser to stay with the tried and true?”
Raeburn seemed to be expanding with arrogant anger. His neck bulged over his tight white collar. “What have you got there? What have you been prying into?”
Bourke passed him the papers without a word.
Raeburn leafed through them, then said, “All right. There’s a temporary cash flow problem. Nothing to worry about, as it’s only short-term.”
Pursing his lips, Bourke said, “Your son know about it? Could have preyed on his mind if he did…”
“He wasn’t interested in the financial side of things. Left everything to me. As I said, it was a short-term problem anyway.”
“I’ve had an accountant look these papers over,” said Bourke cheerfully. “Says you were up the creek without a paddle…”
Madeline called as Carol and Bourke were reviewing the case. “Carol, could you drop in on your way home? Something’s happened you should know.”
“Can you tell me on the telephone?”
“No, I can’t. I’ll be here all afternoon, so call by any time.”
“Madeline Shipley,” said Carol in explanation as she replaced the receiver. “I’ll call you if she’s got anything important.”
“We’ve still got nothing on the photo, but it’s Saturday night when the boys come out to play, so I’ve got a couple of men checking the bars in Oxford Street.” He grinned. “Not being sexist, Carol, but this
Carol leaned her chin on her hands. “Okay, let’s get this over and done with, and we can both go home.”
He passed her a neatly ruled sheet. “Time of death is so vague that it seems almost any of his nearest and dearest could have helped him on his way, not to mention his enemies.” They went down the list together, stopping to discuss each one.
