A Finer End

eyes met. ‘When I spoke to Nick he said he had driven by this morning. He didn’t mention coming into the yard.’
    ’I’d say that puts him right in the frame for Garnet’s murder.’
    Gemma picked up his thought, in which case, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave Faith alone with him. We should go back — but I meant to pick up a few of Faith’s things, if I can do it without disturbing the scene.’ She turned back to the house and Kincaid followed. She heard his snort of surprise when he stepped through the door.
    ’I don’t suppose Garnet had any Y two K worries. Talk about off the grid.’
    The cats, sated now and prone to view Gemma as their saviour, rubbed madly about her ankles, purring, until she let them out. ’I’ll just see what I can turn up upstairs.’
    Leaving him, she made her way through the dim passage and up the staircase. She found Faith’s room first, as comfortless a retreat as she had ever seen. The sight of the folded nightdress and the teddy bear on the pillow moved her almost to tears.
    Suddenly she wanted desperately to hold her son, to feel his small body warm against hers and rub her nose in his silky hair. Gathering a few meagre things for Faith, she left the room quickly.
    However, she couldn’t resist a peep in the bedroom across the hall. On the threshold, she stopped in surprise. The room was unexpectedly feminine, considering the rest of the house. The high four-poster bed was neatly made, and the room as undisturbed as the kitchen. There had been no struggle here.
     
    When Kincaid pulled the Escort into Jack’s drive, Jack’s blue Volvo stood in its usual spot and there was no sign of Nick Carlisle’s motorbike. ‘An unexpected changing of the guard?’ Kincaid asked. ‘Let’s see what’s up, shall we?’
    They found Jack in the kitchen, on the telephone, saying, ‘Right. I’ll ring you then. Cheerio.’ Smiling widely, he motioned them in as he hung up the phone. ‘Good news?’ Kincaid asked.
    ‘She’s awake. Winnie’s conscious! I’ve just rung the Archdeacon, and Fiona Allen.’
    ‘That’s terrific, Jack.’ Kincaid clapped his cousin on the shoulder. ‘Did you see her?’
    ‘I was there when she opened her eyes. She knew me right away.’ Jack turned away and made rather a big fuss over filling the kettle and warming the teapot, and Kincaid suspected that he was fighting to keep his emotions under control.
    ‘The bad news is that she doesn’t seem to remember anything past the evening before her accident. The nurses tell me she’ll probably regain the missing bits, but there’s no guarantee.’
    ‘Did she say anything at all that might give us a clue as to what happened?’
    ‘She seems to be worried about her brother. But that may be because her last clear recollection is Andrew’s abominable behaviour at her dinner party.’
    ‘How much longer will they keep her in the ICU?’ Kincaid asked.
    ‘As soon as they see she can handle liquids on her own, they’ll move her into a room.’
    ‘At that point, you might want to make sure that someone you trust is with her at all times.’
    Paling, Jack tended to the boiling kettle. He brought the tea things to the table and sat down heavily. ‘Somehow I’d managed to convince myself that we were over the worst.’
    ’It is wonderful news,’ Gemma reassured him. ‘And cause for celebration. Let’s drink a toast.’ She raised her cup.
    ‘Wait.’ Jack rose and fetched three glasses and a bottle of twelve-year-old Macallan. He splashed a bit in each glass and pushed theirs across the table. ‘We’ll do it properly. Here’s to Winnie.’
    They all raised their glasses, and although Kincaid and Jack downed theirs, Kincaid noticed that Gemma took the merest sip. Lately she’d been ordering orange juice in the pub, and leaving her after-work glass of wine almost untouched. Was she slimming and had not bothered to tell him?
    Now she sipped demurely at her tea, asking, ‘How’s Faith?’
    ‘Still sleeping,’ Jack told her. ‘Nick said she never stirred.’
    ‘Have you checked on her?’ Kincaid heard the unintended sharpness in his voice, and Jack gave him a puzzled look.
    ‘Yes, before Nick left. Sleeping like a baby. Why?’
    ‘Has it rained recently?’
    Jack stared at him. ‘Yesterday morning. A brief shower, but heavy. Duncan, what on earth are you getting at?’
    ‘Would you say Nick is trustworthy?’
    ‘Of course I would! What is this about?’
    ‘Nick’s