A Bitter Feast(68)

Kincaid nodded, and she thought he looked relieved not to be left on his own. “Won’t we be making a nuisance of ourselves with Ivan and Addie?”

“I’ll speak to Addie as soon as I get back up to the house. She said they were here until midweek and we were welcome to stay as long as we needed.” Leaning closer, Gemma said, “So tell me about the hit-and-run.”

“No visible skid marks. Which doesn’t rule out an accident, but the pathologist thinks someone hit him over the head once he was down.”

“Oh, bugger,” whispered Gemma. She considered this for a moment. “I don’t think it can possibly be coincidence, the deaths of Nell Greene and Fergus O’Reilly, then this. And it all starts with O’Reilly. What was he really doing here? Why was he here three weeks ago? If Viv spent years hiding from him, which is certainly what it looks like, why? Was he violent?” She relayed what Melody had told her about O’Reilly’s restaurants. “I’d start with the London address you and Booth got from the hotel here. And the name Doug found of his former partner in London.”

“Someone will have to follow up on those leads,” Kincaid agreed. “But Booth will have to liaise with the Met and that may take some time.”

“I have an idea,” Gemma said, and smiled for the first time since Viv had called Beck House.



Seeing that Doug and the kids were still occupied with their croquet game, which looked as though it was becoming a bit Alice-esque, Melody went back into the house.

She found Addie in the kitchen, arranging sliced ham and tomatoes on a platter. “I just spoke to Gemma,” Melody told her. “She and Duncan are still at the Lamb. She said to apologize if they didn’t make it back for lunch.”

“I’m not surprised,” Addie said. “I’m just putting out some ham for sandwiches. There will be plenty left for them whenever they get back. Your dad told me about the bartender.” She shook her head. “What a shame. Poor Viv.”

“It’s worse than that. Gemma says they don’t think it was an accident.”

Addie stopped, hands arrested over the ham. “Oh, no. That’s dreadful. Surely, they’re wrong.”

“I don’t get the impression that DI Booth makes a habit of being wrong.” Melody helped herself to a slice of tomato—delicious, and undoubtedly from their garden.

“No.” Addie went back to her task, adding farmhouse bread to the platter. “I’d agree with you on that. But I can’t imagine that anyone would want to hurt poor Jack Doyle. Such a nice man. This will be horrible for Viv and Bea. I must see what I can do for them.”

“It sounds like a zoo at the moment, with Gemma and Duncan at the pub as well as DI Booth. I’d go down myself except I promised Gemma I’d look after Toby and Charlotte.” Melody leaned back against the work top. “Mum, what do you know about Joe?”

Addie looked up, surprised. “Joe? Why do you want to know?”

“We were just chatting a bit ago. I was curious why a good-looking young guy would want to live like a monk.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.” The corner of Addie’s mouth turned up. “He does go down to the pub as well as into town, regularly, and there have been quite a few times when I’ve seen him coming back early in the morning. Where he chooses to spend the night is certainly none of my business—although I do like having him here on the property when we’re in London.”

“He wanted to know what I knew about Viv and Fergus O’Reilly, but then he didn’t want me to tell Viv he’d asked. I just thought it was odd.”

“Oh.” Addie considered this. “Well, as far as I know, they’re just friends. Of course he would be concerned. Roz,” she called out, “has Joe spoken to you about Viv?”

“I didn’t realize Roz was here,” said Melody.

“She was just finishing up some correspondence that needed to be done by tomorrow. We got a bit behind, with the luncheon.”

A moment later, Roz Dunning came in from the hall. “Did you call me, Addie? I was just on my way out.” She added, “Oh, hi, Melody. I thought you were out in the garden with your friend. He seems to be getting on famously with the little ones.”

“It’s not important,” said Addie. “Don’t let us keep you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Bye now.” Roz gave them a little wave and a moment later they heard the front door open and close.

“I do hope my luncheon idea wasn’t responsible for bringing O’Reilly here,” said Addie, looking down at her finished platter with an unexpected expression of regret. “If he hadn’t come, neither he nor Nell might have died. And now this, with Jack Doyle . . .”

“Mum.” Melody put her arm round her mother’s slender shoulders. The silk of Addie’s blouse felt cool under her fingers. “Whatever happened to Nell and Fergus O’Reilly, it was not your fault. Now, what about these sandwiches?”

“Right.” Addie smiled, but Melody wasn’t entirely convinced. “If you’ll fetch Doug and the children,” Addie said, “I’ll just tell your father. He’s been on the phone all morning trying to find a good car for Duncan.” She looked at Melody. “If Duncan had been hurt very badly—or died—I don’t know how I would—”