A Finer End

distance, my dear. This hill is a good climb, but nothing compared to that one.’
    She hadn’t strictly meant the climb, but she continued her upward progress without clarifying her words.
    ‘This looks the place,’ Kincaid said after a few more yards, nodding. The house just ahead was a pleasant, pale-peach stucco, with an arched entrance that gave the building a vaguely Spanish air. ‘Ready?’
    A dog barked loudly as Gemma knocked, and a moment later Andrew Catesby opened the door. Seeing his expression of neutral query change swiftly to recognition, she smiled and said, ‘Mr Catesby? We met yesterday at Garnet Todd’s house. My name’s Gemma James.’ She flashed her identification at him. ‘We’d like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.’
    Before Catesby could offer an objection, Kincaid introduced himself, and as they stepped forward, Catesby gave way.
    ‘I suppose you’d better come in, then,’ he said, and favoured Gemma with the quick smile she’d seen yesterday.
    The dog, a liver-and-white spaniel, was sniffing enthusiastically at Gemma’s ankles. Gemma knelt and fondled her silky ears. ‘She’s lovely. What sort of spaniel is she?’
    ‘Springer,’ Catesby replied. ‘Phoebe, leave off,’ he scolded affectionately. The spaniel went resignedly over to a cushion near the front door and curled up with a sigh, head on her paws.
    Gemma turned her attention to the house. The hall opened to a simple kitchen and, ahead, a living area with a glass wall that gave on to the southern view. Here Catesby led them, gesturing towards the leather sofa.
    ‘Lovely view of the Levels,’ Kincaid said as he took the proffered seat. ‘You must enjoy it.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Catesby answered pleasantly, but Gemma caught the scent of fear, and her pulse quickened.
    ‘When I saw you yesterday at Ms Todd’s farmhouse, you were hoping to commission some tiles. Yet you said you’d never met her. Did someone recommend her to you?’
    Catesby hovered restlessly near an armchair, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to sit. ’I’m an archaeologist — amateur, you know, summers and holidays — and everyone knows she’s the best there is at tile restoration. Was, I mean. She was.’
    ‘You were interested in having her do some work on an archaeological project?’
    ‘She took on personal commissions as well. It was my kitchen. It needs doing up. I thought some tile work. .
    ‘Quite.’ Kincaid nodded with such apparent sincerity that Gemma almost smiled. ‘So you went to her house. Did you by any chance happen to go inside?’
    ‘No. No, of course I didn’t. There was no answer when I knocked. I was sorry to hear of the woman’s death, but I’m not sure I understand why you’re asking me all these questions.’
    ‘You might have seen someone poking about,’ offered Kincaid. ‘Murderers do sometimes come back to the scene.’
    ‘Murder? Garnet Todd was murdered? But you said — you said she was dead! Catesby’s shock seemed genuine. ‘And I thought — a heart attack. Or an accident.’
    ‘Yes, we believe she was murdered,’ Kincaid informed him evenly. ‘And that requires us to go through a process of elimination. If we know, for instance, that you didn’t touch anything, we don’t have to worry about your fingerprints.’
    ‘But I’ve told you — I never met the woman, and I never went inside her house.’
    ‘Then you won’t mind telling us where you were on Thursday evening,’ said Gemma.
    Catesby took a breath as if to protest again. Then, shrugging, he said, ‘I was at home all evening, marking exams. And no, there’s no one that can verify that.’
    ‘And the evening of your sister’s accident?’
    ‘My sister? What the devil does my sister have to do with any of this?’
    An accident and a murder, on consecutive days and in the same area; the victims both women who knew one another... It only seems logical that there might be some connection.’
    ‘But Winnie—’ Catesby sat down for the first time. ‘But it was an accident. She was struck by a car, for God’s sake.’
    A car that didn’t stop and render aid; a location in which the car would have had to make an effort to get up enough speed to do any damage; and as I understand it, Mr Catesby, your sister is too sensible a woman to have walked out in front of a vehicle if she had heard it approaching.’
    ‘But... it’s preposterous to think anyone would deliberately hurt Winnie, of all