A Bitter Feast(32)

Addie appeared at Ivan’s side. “What seems to be the problem, darling?”

Ivan put a casual arm across her shoulders. “Addie, this is Detective Inspector Booth, from Gloucester CID. Inspector Booth, my wife, Lady Adelaide. Inspector Booth needs a word—in private—with Viv. It’s about last night’s accident.”

“Of course.” Addie gave Booth her most gracious public smile. “Let me see what I can arrange. Ivan and I have to attend to our guests, but perhaps we can deputize our daughter to help you.” She gave Ivan’s arm a squeeze and left them, her stride purposeful.

Kincaid looked round for Gemma, saw that she had risen, but was still hemmed in by her gentlemen admirers. He caught her questioning glance and shrugged. It seemed to him that Booth was studying the garden with undue attention. Was there foxglove in the borders? He couldn’t recall seeing it, but then his memory of his quick tour of the garden before breakfast that morning seemed a century ago. “Surely someone would know if Nell had a heart condition,” he said. Was he hoping to excuse her, find a logical reason why she had plowed into his car? But if Nell had been poisoned, she had still been alive when they crashed. Nothing made sense. He didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything more than a few seconds.

Kincaid saw Addie speak to Melody, then Melody started across the lawn towards them, but as he watched, his vision seemed to darken round the edges.

“Are you quite all right, Duncan?” asked Ivan, his voice sounding very far away.

“I think,” Kincaid managed, “I might need a bit of a lie-down.”



With her mother’s whispered instructions in her ear, Melody pasted on a smile and went to meet the newcomer.

“So sorry to disturb the party,” Booth said as he shook her hand. He was quite good-looking, Melody decided, and his clasp was warm and dry.

“If you could take DI Booth into the sitting room,” her father said, “and then fetch Vivian?” He turned to Booth. “Let us at least get you a coffee.”

This was framed as a statement rather than a question, and Melody saw Booth hesitate before he said, “Thanks. That’s kind of you, sir.” She could tell that he felt awkward, but she also saw that he was taking everything in with alert curiosity. She wouldn’t want to have secrets from this man.

“Good. Let us know if you need anything else.” Ivan gave Booth’s hand a hearty shake, and a moment later was chatting with guests who were all now rising from their tables. Kincaid excused himself as well, making a rather unsteady beeline for Gemma. Melody thought he’d looked a bit green about the gills.

Left alone with Booth, she led the way through the house to the blue sitting room. “You’re from Gloucester HQ, then?” she asked.

“Yes. Your father paid us a visit this morning.”

“Ah. I see.” Melody did, indeed.

“Lovely house,” commented Booth. “Very comfortable. Not what I expected.”

“My parents seldom do the expected,” Melody said.

Rather than taking the offered seat, Booth stood gazing out the sitting room window at the milling crowd in the garden.

“How do you take your coffee, Mr. Booth?” Melody asked from the door.

Booth turned, and she thought she saw the corner of his mouth quirk in a smile. “Black, thank you.”

She left him and bumped straight into Doug Cullen in the hall. “Who’s the cop?” whispered Doug, catching her by the shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“Gloucester CID. He wants to talk to Viv.”

“About O’Reilly? I want in on that.”

“Shh,” Melody admonished, finger to her lips. “Then go keep him company while I fetch Viv. Otherwise, I think he’ll have unearthed all of our family secrets.”

When she returned with Viv, and carrying Booth’s cup of coffee, she found Doug and Booth comfortably ensconced on the sofas, chatting about, of all things, rowing.

Booth stood to greet Viv, who looked as if her legs might give way at any moment.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it, then,” said Melody, giving Doug the eye when Viv had taken a seat.

“No, please. I’d like you to stay, Melody. You, too,” Viv added with a glance at Doug. “If that’s all right with Inspector Booth.”

Melody was surprised. She didn’t really know Viv Holland all that well. When she came to the country for weekends or holidays, her parents often took her to dinner at the pub. Viv would come out from the kitchen to speak to them, but their conversations had revolved round the food, and the usual village topic, the weather. She wasn’t even sure if Viv knew what she did for a living.

“Certainly.” Booth nodded at Melody and Doug, then turned to Viv. “Miss Holland— It is ‘miss,’ isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Viv answered, sounding hoarse. Melody sat beside her on the sofa.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I realize you’ve had a busy day.”

Viv sat forward, fingers kneading at the hem of her white chef’s jacket. “I have to clear up. And then get ready for service at the pub—Saturday is our busiest night.”

“I do have to ask you some questions.” Booth sounded almost gentle, which put Melody on alert. Booth was not just going through the motions, then. “I understand you knew Fergus O’Reilly.”