A Bitter Feast(104)

Gemma had seen that Ibby’s Toyota had already been collected from the pub car park. Booth was moving quickly.

“I don’t want her coming here,” Viv said with sudden force. “Or coming anywhere near Grace. I’ve packed up her things from the office and left them with the police officer at her house.”

“What will you do, Viv? Was it an equal partnership?”

“Yes. Mark’s going to help with the day-to-day business in the short term. Beyond that, I don’t know. I’m not at all sure I can raise the funds to buy Bea out. But this is my home, and Grace’s home. I meant it when I told Fergus that. How ironic if it’s Fergus who causes us to lose it.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that. How’s Grace?”

Viv’s expression softened. “Asleep on the sofa. They put her in a cast boot, which at the moment she thinks is pretty cool. I’ve promised her mac cheese and a Harry Potter marathon when she wakes up.”

“What about the dog, Bella?” Gemma asked, remembering Kit’s concerns.

“Mark means to offer to buy her back from Nell Greene’s ex. Grace would love to take her, but I think it’s going to be a while before she’s ready for that responsibility—and according to the doctors she’s going to be in the cast boot for some time.” Viv rubbed her face with both hands. “I still can’t believe it, you know. Bea. If I hadn’t heard her myself . . . And if Grace hadn’t heard her, and hadn’t seen her attack Mark, she might never have believed we were telling the truth about the things Bea did.” She looked up at Gemma, her blue eyes shadowed. “Why? Why did she want to turn my daughter against me? And to turn me against Mark?”

Gazing out at the tidy pub garden, Gemma thought about it. If Bea had been jealous of Mark, what must she have felt about the threat presented by Fergus? “It seems to me that she couldn’t bear not to be first. In Grace’s affections, and in yours. Maybe, in a twisted way, it was because she loved you.”



Kincaid met Mark Cain walking up Nell Greene’s drive. A Mercedes he recognized as Dr. Bruce Greene’s was parked in front of the cottage, and the cottage door stood open. Cain had texted Kincaid first thing that morning to say that he was meeting Greene to turn over Nell’s keys.

“I thought you might come,” Cain said, shaking Kincaid’s hand.

“How did it go?”

Cain looked back at the cottage. “He seems a nice enough bloke—quite cut up about Nell, I think. I offered to pay him for Bella, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said Nell would have wanted her to go with me. He’s meeting with the vicar shortly to organize a memorial service.”

“I’d better get on, then, if I want to speak to him,” Kincaid said.

“Yes, well, have a safe journey. How are you getting back to London?”

“The train, after lunch. Addie and Ivan are taking us to the station in Moreton. We’ll need two cars,” Kincaid added ruefully. “As neither of them drive a people carrier.”

“Yes, well,” Cain said again, then blurted out, “I just wanted to thank you. You and your wife, and Viv, and Detective Booth, you saved my life last night.”

“You can thank Grace, not us. Maybe some regular dog-training sessions are in order,” Kincaid added with a grin. Seeing that Dr. Greene had come out and appeared to be locking the cottage door, he said, “I’d better go,” and they shook again. As Cain turned away, Kincaid saw the neat bandage on the back of his head and thought how lucky the man had been.

They had all been lucky. Except for Jack Doyle. And Fergus O’Reilly. And Nell Greene. He walked the rest of the way down the drive.

“Dr. Greene,” he said as the man turned towards him.

“Mr. Kincaid. Or is it Detective Superintendent Kincaid today?” Greene asked, but he sounded bemused rather than irritated. In chinos and a slightly rumpled cotton shirt, he looked considerably more human than he had in his consultant’s three-piece suit. He also looked as if he hadn’t slept much since yesterday, and had missed a few spots shaving.

“Merely mister,” Kincaid replied. “Mark Cain told me he was meeting you here this morning.”

“I’d never seen the place, if you can believe it. Nell visited her aunt occasionally, but in more than twenty years of marriage, I was always too busy to come with her. I wish—” Greene sighed and shook his head. “Well, never mind. Cain told me about Bea Abbott. To think that she was in some way responsible for Nell’s death, even if not deliberately . . . I would say it beggars belief, but somehow I find I’m not all that terribly surprised.” He met Kincaid’s eyes. “I didn’t tell you yesterday—perhaps I should have. Bea Abbott was fifteen years old when she came home from school and found her mother in the shower. Laura was naked. She’d slit her wrists and left the water running.” When Kincaid grimaced, Greene said, “Yes, well, that would have been bad enough. But the worst thing was that Laura had known Bea would be the one to find her. I don’t think Bea Abbott was ever quite right after that. I wonder if I could have somehow intervened. Instead, I walked away from the whole sorry mess. And now Nell is dead.”

“Dr. Greene, I don’t think you can hold yourself responsible for Bea’s actions. Or for your ex-wife’s death. But there is something I wanted to tell you.” Kincaid gazed out at the rolling hills, fighting the blurring of his vision and the sudden constriction in his throat. After a moment he managed to go on. “Nell was trapped in her car, but she was conscious. I—I waited with her. But by the time help arrived, she had . . .” He took a breath. “It was too late. But I thought you would want to know that she wasn’t in pain. And that she wasn’t alone when she died.”